All The Young Punks Pt. 52 - The End

---- You'd have to be mad to include a short story in a final chapter. ----

Janie twirled like a ballerina in the street. Her shoulder-length blonde hair flew outwards. She smiled, showing the gap where her tooth once was, a new tooth poking through. Her arms extended like the wings of a delicate bird. Her eyes met Joe's. Her voice whispered.

"You must go, Joe. Your life is not here."

Joe sprang up in bed and looked at the clock. It was 5:05. He lay back down but sleep was a lost cause. He tossed and turned, his mind racing. He went upstairs and made himself peanut butter toast trying to not wake the family. He sat at the kitchen table alone, washing his breakfast down with milk, thinking.

He had been home for nearly two weeks. The pressure from his sisters and mother regarding his future seemed to have passed, except for Jackie. She had not given up on the Boston option.

"If Kim is as beautiful and cool as you say, why haven't you called her?"

"I told you... because I'm leaving soon and it would be shitty of me to..."

"Oh, I get it," Jackie smirked. "You're one of those jerks who doesn't call back when a girl gives you her digits. You said you had a great conversation. She's clearly into you but you're gonna let poor Kim sit by the phone... sadly disappointed."

Joe wasn't taking the bait. He pointed at himself. "Look at this face. Of course, she's into me. If I called every chick who was into me, I'd never get..."

"Oh, screw you. You're such a jerk."

Joe was mentally ready to hit the road to nowhere. Knowing he might not return for some time, he felt he should remain longer. He enjoyed a few relatively peaceful days since his special delivery made his sisters happy. During that calm, Joe got the sense they were finally accepting that he was leaving. As he rinsed his milk glass in the sink, he was unaware the fragile peace would soon be shattered.

Later that morning he was alone in his room after an unexpected confrontation with the last person he expected. The house erupted into Theroux family drama. The sisters were pointing fingers after Dad and Joe exchanged words. The loud, unpleasant morning left Joe in a pissy mood. He hunkered down in his bedroom dungeon, avoiding the perpetrators of the latest crisis. He considered driving away. Now. Leaving town without a word.

He'd been given a glimpse of his possible future living under this roof, a life he knew too well, but he was surprised by how little had changed during his five years in New York. His little sisters had all grown into beautiful young women but they were still the same little girls.

There was a knock on his door.

"Yeah?"

"It's me. Can I come in?"

Joe waited, making her stand in the basement. 'At least she knocked,' he thought, then made her wait a little longer to see if she would barge in as she often did.

"Sure," he said with a tone of exasperation. "Come in."

Jackie walked in and did what she does, sat at the foot of the bed. Joe was sitting, leaning against the headboard and wall, in the corner, his usual spot. His Tears For Fears vinyl record, The Hurting, was spinning on his turntable on low volume to not give Dad another reason to complain.

"What are you listening to?"

Joe didn't look up from his writing, feeling like the brooding teenager he once was. His return home felt like he was back in high school. It was disturbing.

"I know you're mad at me," she said.

"I'm not mad." He put his notebook down and looked at her. "I'm disappointed." Joe loved his sister Jackie dearly. She was smart, pragmatic, hardworking, and beautiful. It troubled him to feel if he lived in this house their relationship would suffer. He held up his Mead Composition notebook. "That's what I'm writing in my journal right now. I'm so sick of this shit. My whole life I've had to sneak around this house and keep secrets because I can't trust my sisters. It's like you girls are deliberately trying to hurt me."

Joe stared at her with a blank face, his eyes conveying his annoyance. Jackie said nothing.

"Everyone wants me to stay home," he raised his hands. "For this crap? So you can get in my business and rat me out over something I did years ago?"

"We're not trying to hurt you, and this is not a big deal. You are totally overreacting. It's not like Dad can ground you."

"That's not the point! The fact you run to Mom or Dad every time you think I've done something wrong hurts me, right here," he put his fingertips on his heart. "and I'm fucking sick of it."

"What you said upstairs hurt us. That was gross, Joe." Jackie focused hard on his eyes. "It was cruel. I can't believe you would say something like that in this house." She leaned in. "You made Julie cry."

"Stop ratting on me and I won't feel that way. You're all a bunch of gossipy little bitches. Sorry if the truth hurts."

"I don't rat! And you know that. I was never a rat."

"You have loose lips around the house. That's bad enough."

"So I told Jules a funny story about what you did to Dad. I kept that secret for what... eight years?"

"Not long enough!" Joe half shouted. "Why the fuck would Sweet Baby Jesus even come up? It's been forever."

Jackie exhaled. "When you did your drive the other day Julie was down here listening to your Out Of The Blue record. She loves ELO. I was doing laundry, using Dad's desk to fold, and that dusty old radio reminded me..."

"You brought it up?"

"Not really. I just asked Julie when was the last time she saw Dad on his radio. She's the one who brought up Jesus."

"And you ratted me out," Joe said calmly.

"No. I told her..."

"You told her it was me!"

"I'm sorry! I fucked up! Please don't make more of this than it is. You like to do that... use your moods as weapons."

"When was the last time you heard Dad yell at me like he just did? We never fight. When was the last..."

"Every time they saw your report card after Freshman year."

Joe thought for a moment. "Besides that, when was the last time..."

"The day he kicked your band out of the garage for smoking pot."

"Okay, that was almost seven years ago," Joe said. "It's so rare you recall the few times it's happened. My point is, Dad and I don't have that kind of relationship. We disagree but we don't fight. It's only when I really fuck up that he gives me shit."

"Unlike Mom."

"Yes," Joe nodded. "The tone of my relationship with Mom is different. It was bad for a long time."

"Pfft," Jackie scoffed. "Yeah, I lived through your Mommy issues."

"Who's fault was that?" Joe asked. "Who caused it?"

Jackie didn't hesitate, "Mom was insane for seven years but you didn't make it any better taunting and tormenting her." Jackie met his eyes. "She usually started it. It's good now. You moving out helped her to move on."

Joe steeled his eyes, "And you want me to come back? You want me to live in this house? Are you crazy?"

"She's not like that anymore, Joe."

"Since I've come home I've had flashbacks. All this nagging about me staying is not helping your case. Mother Superior has been resurrected. I can't go back to that." Joe held his gaze on Jackie's eyes. "And now you put Dad against me. What. The. Fuck?"

"I didn't want this to happen." Jackie put her hand on his white-socked foot. "I'm so sorry."

Joe exhaled. "We have to do something about Jules. She's eighteen! After all these years she's still a rat?" He made a goofy face and used a dumb voice. "I guess the first thing is not telling her shit we don't want Mom and Dad to know." He paused. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"Oh, this is one of those things you'll never let me forget... like the time I opened your Christmas gifts by accident?"

"You opened three of them! One is a mistake, three is malicious."

Jackie laughed. "I'm sorry about that too. Please forgive me."

"That was a misdemeanor. This is a felony?"

"Me?" Jackie's mouth opened. "I'm pretty sure Julie's the rat felon. At worst, I'm an accessory. But you won't be hard on your precious little Jules." She paused. "We wouldn't want to hurt her feelings. She's so sensitive."

"Don't worry. I'll deal with her my own way."

"Yeah. She gets the soft touch. I get this this crap."

"You did say I made her cry. Right?"

.

.

--- RADIOHEAD ----

When Joe was a young teen, his dad got hooked by the Citizens Band Radio craze of the seventies. Bill Theroux set up a desk in the basement, between his workshop and Joe's bedroom. On that desk was his new toy, a CB radio. A cable ran from the desk, out a small basement window, and up the side of the house to the roof where Dad fastened an antenna to the chimney, opposite the TV antenna.

Dad was up at all hours talking to his CB friends. The constant chatter and static drove Joe to madness, especially on school nights. "10-4 good buddy. What's your twenty?"... and all the CB lingo was so annoying when Joe was trying to sleep.

When the son protested, Dad simply said, "It's my damn house. Put your headphones on."

After midnight, Joe emerged from his room unable to sleep with the radio squawking twelve feet outside his door. He didn't have to say a word. Dad looked at him anticipating a complaint.

"Does anyone stop you from playing your goddamn guitar?"

"I don't play my goddamn guitar after everyone goes to bed. I try to be goddamn considerate." He went upstairs and slept on the couch.

There were many dozen late-night staredowns and words over Dad's nocturnal radio obsession.

Dad also had a CB in the family car. Every time he drove Dad was on that damn radio. Family vacations were the worst. They couldn't listen to music on FM radio. Dad had to have his CB on to monitor traffic ahead. He talked to truckers and Joe made wisecracks from the back seat.

"I'm haulin' cargo with my Peterbilt Pontiac station wagon rig." Then he pulled the fake horn and made a dumb sound with his lips flapping. Dad looked back through the rearview mirror and idly threatened his teenage son as driving fathers do. The CB was a source of stress in their relationship... the only source.

This was all happening a few years after Janie's death. Joe was playing guitar, deep into therapy, and just coming out of his self-imposed social exile. He was in the combative, fighting era of his teens. Dad was dealing with his demons. As much as this story is about Joe, his trauma, and how he goes through life carrying it, the pain his parents suffered cannot be overestimated. That day in 1972 changed this family forever.

Joe couldn't escape the inane chatter of old men on their radios. This problem went on for nearly two years before Joe got his revenge. That revenge remained secret for eight years until Jackie shared an old story with Jules... who then told Dad.

A couple of hours after his early morning peanut butter toast, Joe lay quietly in his bedroom. He heard a commotion upstairs between his sisters and Dad, and then thunder coming down the basement stairs. There was no knock on the door. It seemed to fly open by itself. It was the first time Dad had yelled at Joe in years. When he ran out of breath, he stared at Joe.

Joe exhaled. "Yeah. It was me," he nodded, balancing Dad's heat with cool and calm. "I'm surprised you didn't figure it out back then." He shrugged. "I mean, Dad, the clues were all there. I really can't believe you didn't bust me years ago."

Dad went on about the disrespect. That was the line he was resting his case on. Joe disrespected him and his friends... and their hobby. Bill said what he had to say but didn't go on for long. He knew Joe was at a crossroads in life wondering if he should live under this roof again. Dad was wise not to chase his son away with anger. He stared silently for a moment, turned, and walked out.

Joe knew precisely who told him because only one person in the world knew of his secret operation to torment the radio heads. He knew she'd be visiting his cellar dungeon soon. Jackie hated that her brother had the high ground. She had to take his stupid barbs.

He turned his notebook to her. "I titled this entry Rats In The Cellar. I'm gonne set some traps. What kind of cheese do you prefer?" He stared at her. "You're not twelve anymore. Stop ratting!"

Of course, Jackie instantly ratted on Jules, as if that would save her. Rats ratting out other rats in the Theroux house was so common it was predictable.

"Just leave me alone." Joe pointed. "Seriously. Leave."

"Don't make this worse than it is being a bitch about it."

"Did you happen to tell Jules that this is the oldest secret we have?" He made a duh face. "The oldest secret we... had."

"No. I didn't say that."

"You can leave now."

.

.

--- SWEET BABY JESUS ---

Eight years ago, during the Bicentennial summer of '76 when Joe was fifteen, he sat at his Dad's desk on a Saturday morning. He flipped on the radio and listened to channel 5. He knew Dad was out running an errand, many miles from Federal Hill, and he would be talking on the radio with his fellow CB nerds. Joe keyed the mic and lightly disguised his voice.

"Hey, Rotten Apple!" That was his dad's CB handle, "What's your twenty?"

"I'm on route 6 in Scituate. Who are you, good buddy?"

"Are you by any chance driving a bronze Pontiac station wagon?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm a ways behind you in a pickup. I saw your antenna when you passed me back in Johnston."

"What's your handle?"

'Shit.' Joe had to think fast. He needed a call name, a.k.a, a handle. "Sweet Baby Jesus."

"Can't say I'm familiar," Dad answered.

Joe started to break, holding back a laugh. "Yeah, I'm not usually on this channel."

Route 6 is a state highway that runs from Cape Cod to Rhode Island, west to Connecticut, and beyond. Joe knew it well enough. "There's a motel up ahead," he said, knowing there would be because that route had many shitty roadside motor lodges. "Pull off up there and I'll introduce myself."

Dad got off on meeting new CBers. Joe assumed he'd take the bait. Several minutes later, Dad informed Sweet Baby Jesus he was at the motel. Joe went silent. He waited and waited.

Dad called out again. Joe remained quiet. A minute later, Dad called out again.

"Hey, Baby Jesus. Are you close?"

Joe remained quiet. Finally, after leaving Rotten Apple hanging for a long while, Sweet Baby Jesus laughed.

"Hahahahahaha, how long are you gonna sit there like a dumbass before you realize you've been duped?"

"Who is this? Do I know you?"

"Hahahahahaha." Joe laughed into the mic. "Hey, did you paint that old wagon yourself? Those orange peels look like a five-year-old did the work."

Joe genuinely laughed imagining his Dad sitting in a no-tell-motel parking lot, cars whizzing by on Route 6, looking left and right trying to locate the asshole who was pranking him. Then Joe cut the power to the radio, snickering.

Yeah, Joe was dickhead at fifteen.

Dad had bought the family station wagon, a 1968 Pontiac Tempest after it was involved in a wreck. He rebuilt it himself, swapping out the 350ci engine for the 400ci, and beefed up the suspension for towing the tent trailer. After the bodywork was done, he repainted it bronze with the help of a friend with access to a paint booth. It was an okay paint job but Dad focused and fussed over a few minor imperfections. Joe knew precisely how to get under the old man's skin.

The errand Dad was running that day was car-related. There was an auto salvage yard in Foster that had some old Pontiac hubcaps he coveted. Dad was proud of his Pontiac because he did all the work himself. The '68 Tempest had the iconic GTO grill. It was a badass family station wagon, if there's such a thing.

When Dad got home from his hubcap errand he said nothing of the prank, but Jules had tagged along on the journey. She told everyone in the house about Sweet Baby Jesus and how angry Dad was.

Over the summer, Sweet Baby Jesus made several appearances on channel 5 when Joe knew his Dad was driving. During that time, his Uncle Raymond and two other CB pals got involved, scolding Sweet Baby Jesus for misusing the radio. Joe was breaking all the rules because he knew CB radio etiquette from overhearing his Dad for so many months.

Uncle Ray's handle was SunRay. The others were Fat Elvis and Bigfoot, men older than Dad. Joe had met them a few times. These were the main guys in Dad's local CB crew of nine. Bill claimed he had the best radio reception late at night. He had Radiohead friends a few states away, in New York, Maine, and even Quebec.

"Hey, Fat Elvis!" Joe yelled into the mic on a Saturday morning. "You don't have to call me Sweet Baby Jesus. I know that's a mouthful for you." Elvis often stumbled on words. "You can call me Sweet BJ." He paused. "Elvis. When you're giving Rotten Apple a sweet blow job, do you swallow?"

Rotten Apple and Fat Elvis chastised him for using foul language on the radio.

"I never said a bad word. Besides, I'm the savior, I don't have to follow the rules. I make the rules."

That was the worst thing Joe said on the radio, ever. After another scolding. The old men signed off. The best part of the prank for Joe was channel stalking. He knew their routine. If channel 5 was cluttered with traffic, they switched to channel 7. Joe simply followed. After that, they'd move to channel 11. Sweet Baby Jesus was there seconds later.

When the old men said they were signing off, trying to shake Sweet Baby Jesus, he knew they were just changing channels. He stalked them and it drove them mad.

"This is Sweet BJ signing off. You stinky old wet farts have a nice day now."

As weeks passed, Dad complained over dinner about this disrespectful punk on the radio. Sweet Baby Jesus became well-known in the house. Joe quietly rejoiced when Dad vented to Mom. At one point, she scolded him for cussing in front of the children.

On another Saturday, Dad and Uncle Ray were driving to see a guy about a thing in Massachusetts. Joe was giving them a hard time on the radio, laughing as he chased them from channel to channel. When Jackie came downstairs to do laundry, Joe was busted.

"Oh, my God! It's you? You're Sweet Baby Jesus?"

Joe had his hand on the mic, but he didn't know if it was keyed when she spoke those words loudly. Joe gave her a shush finger on his lips and motioned for her to come closer to listen. Jackie sat with Joe waiting to hear if Dad overheard her. There was nothing.

"Okay, you stinky old wet farts. I'm signing off. You enjoy yourself. Hey SunRay, keep your head above the dashboard and remember, Sweet Baby Jesus loves you."

After a brief negotiation, Joe convinced Jackie to join the fun. She listened in and tittered as Joe annoyed the old men. On a rare weeknight radio taunting, Joe wrote down a few lines for Jackie. She keyed the mic.

"Hey guys, this is Jesus' mom. I'm so sorry. I'm very upset with my son. Teens these days. I just caught him sinning on the radio. He's a very naughty savior."

Dad and Bigfoot didn't get the joke and asked that she please do something about her son.

"What's your name?" Bigfoot asked.

"Are you kidding? I'm Mary, mother of God."

Mother Of God became her handle. Jackie was in on the joke. It went on for many more weeks. Saturday morning was a radio fun day as Dad's day off was always filled with errands.

Sweet Baby Jesus went on through autumn, hit and run taunting, unpredictable. Sometimes he'd only fuck with them for ten minutes, other times he would spend an hour making old men's blood pressure rise. He'd skip a Saturday and strike on a weeknight if Dad went out after dinner.

Having Jackie on board proved to be helpful. They listened closely to the footsteps of little sisters or Mother upstairs. God forbid one of the rats happened into the cellar. Jackie was a lookout and ran interference on occasion, steering the girls away from the basement.