Roll anyways

This morning the city has lost its rhythm. The drummers are all on strike. His skating is all out-of-whack and he can’t seem to find his groove. But, he is still that stubborn little boy in the back of the dingy staring at the sun, so he fights and skates for what seems like days. The wheels on the trucks go ‘round and ‘round and catch on a Brussels sprout.

When did it get light out?
Boom.

He wipes-out large in Roy’s Square to the normally inappropriate yet in this case terribly appropriate sounds of ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling’ by The Righteous Brothers blasting from the speakers.

“Are you kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS… SHIT!”

He grabs his longboard and tries over and over again to snap the fucking thing over his knee. It is built far too well and he is unsuccessful, so he tosses it away like he tosses away old friends, then picks up the Brussels sprout and heads down to the subway.

That board…

He bought it blind at Hogtown. That board with the long wooden deck and Nineballs and heavy duty trucks… It was the biggest board in there and he dug it ‘cause it looked like a surfboard. He had become one with that board. Skating had become a necessary outlet, as necessary as music, as necessary as writing, as necessary as drugs and alcohol. To toss it away with such blatant disregard, such utter disrespect - not a good sign.