Start Date: April 26, 2003 Finish Date: January 27, 2004

Gunner smiles and the two get up as the camera slowly fades out. The two are walking down the street, accompanied by Paul and Tank. Paul and Gunner are walking together and Tank and Kevin are walking together. Paul and Gunner are sharing some vodka and Tank and Kevin are sharing some whiskey. Cars are parked all up and down the side of the road.

PAUL: So, I said to her, "You know, I think you're cute, and I would really like to fuck your brains out."

GUNNER: What'd she say?

PAUL: She was like, "Oh, well, if you had some stranger walk up to you and ask you that, wouldn't you think it was weird?"

GUNNER: Dude, she's a bitch.

PAUL: Totally. I mean, I respect a woman's right to say no.

GUNNER: Fucking right, dude. We all know that.

PAUL: But, fuck it. I know how I feel, so fuck you if you can't fucking handle that. What I think, I fucking say it. What I feel, I express it.

GUNNER: And any motherfucker who has a problem with that, and wants to intervene in my fuck-your-american-culture attitude, they'll have to get their face replaced.

PAUL: Fucking right, guy.

GUNNER: You know, Paul... Maybe I misjudged you for a housey. You're an all right kid.

PAUL: Hey, now... I do live in a house with parents, you know. Shouldn't you reserve your judgment?

GUNNER: Eh, punks don't reserve their judgment. That's what, uhhh, makes us punks.

PAUL: An act-first and think-later mentality?

GUNNER: You know, I think you summed it up in one crystal, perfect sentence.

PAUL: Nah, you're kidding, bastard... Punk is... You know, I don't give a flying fuck. And anyone who starts a sentence with "punk is" usually gets their ass whipped. By me.

GUNNER: Or your mom.

PAUL: Or her. She's quite flexible.

GUNNER: I understand whole heartedly.

PAUL: And you think punk is?

GUNNER: Loud and fast music.

PAUL: Fair enough, my comrade. Fair. E. Nough.

Paul takes a swig of the vodka and passes it off to Gunner. The camera now focuses on Tank and Kevin.

KEVIN: You know what, Tank?

TANK: What's that, Kevin?

As they're walking by, Kevin kicks the door of a car, and the alarm goes off. He keeps walking like nothing happened.

KEVIN: I was talking to this guy once. And he said to me, that I was too young to be worrying about politics and foreign, government policy. He asked me if I thought I was too young to care about justice, too young to be thinking about children working in sweatshops, to young to give a flying fuck about police officers covering up the facts. Too young, not to be hanging out with the preppy kids, not to be graduating high school or college, not to be watching TeeVee for at least six hours a day and listening to the radio every second I get, too fucking goddamn young not to be chasing girls around because they're physically attractive but mentally appalling. And when he asked if I thought I was too young to care about society, you know what I said, right?

TANK: What did you say to him?

Kevin walks by another car, kicks it, and an alarm goes off.

KEVIN: I said to him, hell fucking yeah. I'm too goddamned young to be worrying about my family having to be scared of cops, too goddamned young to worry about kids like Sweep working in sweatshops, too fucking young to see my best family imprisoned for class crime. Too goddamned young to care about Anarchism and political theory. And you know what he said?

TANK: Noooo... what did he say?

KEVIN: He asked me why I did it. And you know what I said to him, right?

TANK: You said you cared, because you're not a fucking piece of shit.

KEVIN: That's what I would have said, had I not said, first that he was a piece of fucking shit.

TANK: Ah, go on.

Kevin kicks the door of another car, but no alarm goes off. "Dammit!"

KEVIN: I said because I'm not busy working 30 hours a week for two years so I can put a miniature American flag on my SUV so the whole world can know that I pollute at the rate of one gallon per seven miles. I told him if I saw him again, I would be the living fuck out of him and his friends.

TANK: He had friends with him?

KEVIN: Yeah, a girlfriend and a normal friend.

TANK: Damn... You have my respect. Standing up to a group is never easy. Gunner did it once, and he beat the shit out of three Nazis. Almost got his ass whipped, but Tank-man came to the rescue.

KEVIN: Heh, Tank-man. Homeless super heroes.

TANK: You goddamn got that right. At night, we rule the streets.

KEVIN: Or squats.

TANK: During the day, we own the streets, and at night, we own the abandoned buildings of the world. Fear us, for we are the homeless super heroes With abilities like, snatch-handgun-from-holster, beg-from-eighty-year-old-women, and breaking-and-entering.

Tank kicks the side of a door of a car and the alarm starts.

KEVIN: Alas, world... Beats-the-shit-out-of-Nazis man, and Gunner, errr, shoplift boy, to the rescue!

TANK: Drinks-more-than-abe-lincoln ability.

KEVIN: Oooo, you have to earn that one.

GUNNER: Why the hell would you think of Abraham Lincoln as someone who drinks?

TANK: What in the fuck could you do in the 1800's for entertainment? Get drunk.

GUNNER: I don't think things have changed all that much.

Gunner kicks the side of a car door and the alarm goes off.

TANK: And judging by our way of life, you're probably fucking right.

PAUL: Hey, hey, hey, now... just what are you saying exactly?

KEVIN: Hey, Paul, didn't you go to an AA meeting once?

PAUL: Dude, don't bring up bad memories. I probably told you that over a few round of beers.... or, a few round of shots. Yeah, shots, that's the key.

GUNNER: Ha, that sucks, Paul... What was it like?

PAUL: Well, I was trashed to fucking hell when I went there. I was feeling a little sick, sorta like I overdrank. I thought that Alcoholics Anonymous was about feeling okay with the fact that you're an alcoholic in a society that hates us drunks.

Paul kicks the side of a car door, no alarm, "Well, fuck me, Mercedes."

TANK: Bwahahaha... That's awesome. They really do need to have an alcoholism awareness program, where they show that people who drink alcohol tend to make friends better, show stronger immune systems, and are the all around cool guys.

GUNNER: I'm sure one of the major brewers of the nation would be willing to support that, despite the fact that they are ultimately corporate douchebags.

KEVIN: Oh, guy, check this out... Once I worked at one of the wineries in Portland.

GUNNER: No fucking way would a legitimate business person hire a homeless person to be in charge of alcoholic substances. Ask Spike. They won't let him work at the pharmacy because he was caught drinking mouth wash on company time.

TANK: We all have our own methods of standing up to the man.

PAUL: Right on... Fuck the man.

KEVIN: Anyway, before you started to diverge on something completely unrelated, I believe I was telling a story.

GUNNER: And we already forgot everything you've said.

Gunner kicks the side of the door, and the window breaks, an alarm goes off.

GUNNER: Whoa, we better cross the street.

TANK: Oooo, man with the plan.

The group crosses the street and keeps walking, generally unafraid of the consequences of their actions.

KEVIN: I was working in a winery. Two of the waiters were fired, so they needed emergency help. The boss working there asked everyone who walked by.

TANK: When the word "wine" came up, you took the job?

KEVIN: Naturally. Apparently, I had to be the guy to carry this bucket where people spit wine after tasting it.

PAUL: What? Did they have a spacebag?

KEVIN: Nah, it's a real thing. Wine tasting. People just taste the wine and then spit it out.

TANK: I knew there was Satan.

GUNNER: Good god, hell.... Who could imagine enjoying the taste of spacebag? That's the most foul substance on the planet, at the rate of a gallon for four dollars.

PAUL: Sssshhhhh, the alcohol gods might hear you.

Paul and Gunner stop, and look up, Gunner remarking, "Whoaaa..."

KEVIN: Anyway, I'm working in this winery, and...

A yuppy walks by.

YUPPY: Shouldn't you guys be getting a job instead of getting drunk?

GUNNER: Eat my shit, you god-fearing cunt!

TANK: Hey, man... what the fuck is your problem? We're just fucking enjoying ourselves. What the fuck is wrong with you?

PAUL: How about we beat the fuck out of you?

KEVIN: FUCK YOU!!!

The yuppy tries to walk away.

TANK: Hey, where the hell are you going?

YUPPY: Just get a fucking job, man.

The yuppy tries to elude Tank, walking away, but Tank walks closer to him, with the rest of his pack following behind.

TANK: We're just enjoying ourselves. What the hell is your problem?

YUPPY: I just got off a twelve hour shift, and you've been drinking all day.

Both of them stop.

TANK: It's not my fault that you're a tool for the system. And nobody should ever feel that another person is bad when they refuse to give in. Just like nobody should ever have to work twelve hour shifts, making shit that only the upper class uses. So you should really rethink your attitude, because the current one is not really appreciated here. You got that?

The yuppy nods and keeps walking. Tank walks back with his clan, whom keeps on the move.

PAUL: Dude, that was weird. You could have just knocked the guy and the message would have been more clear.

GUNNER: Silly Paul. You'll never understand. It's because you're a goddamn housey.

PAUL: Hey, fuck you.

Paul waves his fist at Gunner, who then pretends to be old-style boxing (waving both fists).

TANK: All right, cut it the fuck out, you two.

KEVIN: Yeah, but, Tank.... You know, I think the decision you made in reacting to that, was actually intelligent.

TANK: You can beat the fuck out of them, or show them the light.

KEVIN: I agree.

GUNNER: But violence rocks!

PAUL: I second that motion.

KEVIN: Ah, well, there is some good in it, that it can accomplish things.

TANK: You poor fuckin' kids. I'm an old goddamn man, compared to you, anyway.

GUNNER: Older than Pops?

TANK (holding up a fist and squinting): Heeeyyyyy....

GUNNER: I'm joking, I'm joking.

TANK: I'm somewhere in my thirties, lost track a while ago. Thing is, there's just so much violence out here, I 'unno, you start to detest it. Like alcohol, your first taste of it, and you hate it, but your first drunkenness, and it gives you a rush.

GUNNER: That makes sense, actually. I never had a really serious fight until I was homeless. I can remember my first one, though. I was in a squat, and this kid kept fucking with my backpack. I told him to stop, but he said, "Well, fuck you, you pussy." I let him do it for a few minutes. It just pissed me off that someone thought they could violate my only property with that. I wanted to avoid a fight with this kid more than anything, though. He looked intimidating. Some fucking gutter punk. I held in all my emotions, all my hate and love, just to avoid it. It was building up in me. But then he grabbed my shoulder, and I exploded. We were both sitting down. Once he grabbed my shoulder, I stood up and kicked him in the face, knocking him against the wall, where I kicked him again, and then got down, and started punching the fuck out of him.

PAUL: I bet the week afterwards, everywhere you went, you pretended you were smoking a cigarette.

GUNNER: With a cigarette holder, too.

PAUL: Beautiful.

KEVIN: Nice, nice... I woulda' helped you had I been there.

GUNNER: I know that, brotha'. So, what's this with the winery?

KEVIN: Oh, yeah! The winery! So, I'm working there, and holding this bucket while people spit out wine. I tried to get my hands on some wine while there. There were like, these racks, that held wine, in the back. But whenever I went back there, there was this guy who eyeballed me. Anyway, the end of the day came, and the guy paid me. For about eight hours, I got fifty dollars, under the table, of course. I had to clean up the back, though. I got back there, looked into the wine bucket, where everyone had spat their wine into, and I just chugged the whole fucking thing. Got more fucked up than ever before.

PAUL: Oh, my fucking god...

Paul grabs the side of a brick building and throws up.

GUNNER: Dude, I think I could puke at that story alone. That's fucking awful, yet, awesome at the some time.

TANK: Jesus, Kevin, you have some fucking stamina in ya'. Hell, I fucking like you more already.

The group is walking down the street, and they run in to Pops and his wheel chair. Pops is drinking from a bottle that is wrapped in a plastic bag.

GUNNER: Hey, Pops! What the fuck are you up to, man?

POPS: Just wandering around this beautiful city and admiring it for what it is. Would you like a drink?

GUNNER: Sure, I'll take a drink.

Gunner drinks from the bottle wrapped in a plastic bag. Then he looks at it and takes some of the plastic off, revealing a coke bottle.

GUNNER: What the hell is this? Why do you have a non-alcoholic substance wrapped in a plastic bag? Hey, let me get some wine for ya', man.... You're looking sketchy without doing anything wrong.

KEVIN: In these here united states of whatever, looking sketchy without doing anything wrong is a crime.

TANK: Only if you get caught.

KEVIN: Ha, right.

POPS: I'm sure I'll get enough money later on from washing dishes to buy some wine. But I thank yee all kindly for your offer.

GUNNER: Pops, I'm telling ya'. You'd probably be a fantastic shoplifter or a spanger. You shouldn't be working, especially in the condition that you're in.

POPS: No, no, no, I'll manage, youngin's. But I thank you for your courtesy. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way.

GUNNER: Hey, we'll try to get you drunk later!

The group keeps walking.

KEVIN: Hey, Tank... Do you think you'll ever wind up like Pops one day?

TANK: Hey!

Tank points to Kevin (instead of making like he's going to punch him).

TANK: You cut that shit out right there.

PAUL: Whoa, you seem offended, the unoffendable.

TANK: I wasn't defending myself -- I was defending Pops.

GUNNER: (Irish accent, for no reason) Oh, how honorable of ya', laddy.

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