Jackass PG: Christmas in West Chester
Title: Christmas Night in West Chester
Notes: Written for the now-annual powergeneration ficathon, from a prompt by hannahrorlove. This one actually has a little holiday content. For Power Generation, Bam is a chameleon and Ryan is a firebrand. I got a little carried away into my alterna-Jackass-verse that I haven't written yet, either. I don't know if I can talk about that yet, but don't worry, I didn't kill Johnny.
It was only 9pm when he and Dunn had left the party at his parents' house to go outside and get away from the heat and the noise. It was a freakishly warm winter, with no snow to speak of, and all the Jack and Coke Bam had been drinking made him antsy. They'd escaped the tumultuous party at the Margera household and gone outside for a breath of fresh air. Or, in Ryan's case, another cigarette.
Ryan lit a smoke with a snap of his fingers and collapsed against the tire of one of the cars in the driveway. "I forget how crazy your family is sometimes," he laughed as he exhaled and the tendrils of smoke mixed with the steam of his breath in the cool air. "But Christ, Bam. No wonder you're so fucked-up."
Bam sprawled on the hood of the car, oblivious to the cold metal chill through his hoodie. Overhead in the black sky, tiny pinpoint stars wheeled. He sucked on his drink and giggled. "I'm sorta glad my Dad's cousin's in jail this year. Last year he kept calling me a little girl and I swear... if Mum-Mum hadn't have been there I probably would have kicked his ass." Never mind that his second cousin was at least twice his size, mostly sober and a mean son of a bitch at parties. "Maybe you coulda helped me!" Bam rolled up to his feet and stood on the hood, rocking the car with his weight. He shot a few rabbit-punches towards the windshield.
"Knock it off, you're making me dizzy," Ryan grumbled, "Or I'm gonna get run over." He shifted to a slightly safer position on the sidewalk, watching Bam. "And you're such an idiot. Cousin Chris could totally kick both our pansy asses and you know it."
Bam shrugged. "I was sorta getting used to it by now." He slid down the hood and over the bumper, landing lightly on the cement. He was drunk, but far from wasted. "Come on, let's go do something. This is boring."
Ryan shrugged, "What? It's Christmas Night in West Chester."
"Perfect skating weather," Bam said with gravity. He grinned fiercely, "I wanna tow. You okay to drive?"
"Oh, dude, you are gonna die tonight," Ryan fished into his hip pocket for the keys to his little shitbox car. "And then I'm gonna get killed by your Mom, and it's going to be such a mess."
"Bullshit!" Bam called over his shoulder. He ducked into the garage and came back with one of his skateboards. "The roads are gonna be totally deserted, there's no ice, this whole subdivision's one big racetrack. Come on."
"Gonna regret this," Ryan shook his head, but he climbed in behind the wheel and did it anyway. Because he was an idiot too, and Bam was crazy.
The tow rope on the bumper was only six feet long, but it had plenty of play in it, and with Ryan cruising in second gear, Bam slalomed back and forth behind the rattling piece of crap car.
"You know we shoulda brought a camera!" He called up to Ryan, "This would make excellent footage for CKY." The newly-paved subdivision roads were smooth and fast, and the board was nice and tight. Together with the Jack and Coke, Bam felt like he was flying.
They whipped around the community park a few times while Bam lined up a wicked grind. If he dropped the tow rope at the corner, he could shoot up the sidewalk into the playground, and that row of slatted benches would be at just the right angle.
"Speed up!" He yelled to Ryan, adjusting his footing. This would totally be a piece of cake.
"No fucking way you're gonna make that!" Ryan had sized up Bam's intentions, but he edged the car into third gear as they came up to the straightaway, and Bam dropped the tow rope.
In retrospect, maybe not such a good idea, but it would have made an awesome clip for CKY4, when Bam hit the sidewalk at top speed and took the ollie right over the grassy patch before the benches. It seemed like he hung in the air forever, gently nudging the board under him to line up the grind, until the nose was just in that sweet spot. It was perfect until then, but not for much longer.
The board made contact, but in the instant he touched down Bam knew he was probably going too fast. The trucks skidded along the first bench, striking sparks off the bolts along the seat, struck the gap between the first and second bench and jammed. Something cracked under him, his front foot slid off the nose, and then he was in a cold tumble along the benches, trying to keep loose and not crack his skull open when he landed. It was a long, long slide down the line of benches and he landed on the ground with one arm under him, one behind his back, and his knees drawn up to his chest. He wheezed with the breath knocked out of him.
Ryan pulled the car up onto the curb and ran out into the park. "Bam, you okay? Holy shit!"
Bam squinted against the yellow streetlight and slowly untwisted his limbs. "I dunno. " His right wrist twinged painfully and he pulled up his sleeve to see violent red-and-blue marks blossoming under the skin.
"Yeah, that doesn't look good," Ryan muttered, "But seriously, until that gap I totally thought you were gonna make it. Is it broken?"
"I fucking hope not," Bam grimaced as he picked himself up. He limped back to the gap on a twisted ankle, where his board was solidly wedged between the benches. The leading truck was hanging raggedly, the kingpin wrenched nearly in two. "Son of a bitch! Those were brand-new!" It took him three tries to extricate the board, and the last pull wrenched his wrist again and he yelped in pain.
"Think it's broken, dude," Ryan said, shaking his head. "I'll drive you."
"Well, thanks a fucking lot," scowled Bam, but he got into the shitbox anyway and it didn't really take that long, it being Christmas Night in West Chester and all. He was really starting to bruise beautifully by the time he and Ryan pulled back into his parents' driveway.
"You know she's gonna kill me now," Bam said, tapping his knuckles thoughtfully against the fresh cast on his arm. "I sorta have that showcase thing at New Year's in Miami."
"You're just lucky you didn't break your neck," Ryan reminded him. "I gotta fly out to LA and see Knoxville in a couple days while you're off partying it up in Florida." They both stood a moment on the cold cement outside the house, waiting until the hot roar of the house died down a little.
"No time like the present," said Bam with a grin, and grimped up the stairs into the house. Then he heard Bam explaining, "Dunn and I went out and I swear we got run over by a fucking REINDEER...."
Ryan waited for April's scream of "BAM! What the hell did you DO?" before he knew it was safe to go in. After all, he wanted to see the expression on her face, too.
Merry Christmas from West Chester.
Questions? Comments? Feedback always appreciated.