The Ruins

Records ; IV

(F)

Sunprint Records was a comfort place of mine when I was younger. Being surrounded by all of the records felt like being surrounded by history. Though, I hadn't gone back since I was around eight years old. It's exciting to be back.

"Hey, Finn!"

I look over at him, waving enthusiastically. He looks like he's about to hop over the counter. I just nod at him, and continue on.

He works here, apparently. Isn't that great?

I wander through the aisles, my fingers ghosting over the record covers.

"Need any help?" He asks, suddenly appearing next to me. First thing I notice is that he's short, only a few inches taller than five feet. He has a bright smile planted on his face.

"No, thank you." I look back at the records that my fingers previously traced. We sit in silence for a few seconds. "Actually... do you have any Mozart?"

"Yeah, we do. Follow me." Jude says with a smile. With a skip in his step, he leads me to a back aisle.

I watch as he Scans through the records, his fingers flipping through them quickly. "Aha!" At last, he pulls out an album. "Requiem. Hope that's cool with ya." He says, handing me the record.

"Thank you." I start to walk away from him. "Wait!" He shouts, before covering his mouth with his hands and wincing at his own loudness. "Follow me." He says and runs a bit ahead of me, to guide me.

Jude takes me to another section, one way more in front of the store. "You should try out this album. It came out in 2018, maybe you'll like it." He says, whipping through the records once more, and pulling out another album. "I'll pay for it, just... try it out. Let me know if you like it." He hands me the album. 'Punk Rocks For Kids Who Can't Skate' by... Destructo Disk.

"I don't know what punk is... but it doesn't really sound like my thing." I say and try to hand it back to him.

"Nonono, you gotta try it. Please?" He draws out the please, pushing the record back to me.

...

"Fine. I'll listen to it." I tell him. He does a little "yes!" and shakes his fists with a smile.

He rings me up at the counter, writing something on my receipt, and puts ten dollars of his own into the register. "Enjoy that record!" He says as I leave, two records and one receipt in hand.

I crumple the print of my total, and stuff it into my pocket. I'll see how much it costed later.

On my way home, I stare at the covers of each one. My finger traces the letters on the punk album as I walk.

Once I get to my house, I rush up the marble stairs as silently as possible to avoid any family interaction. If they saw me coming home in this outfit, they'd freak out and ask what I was doing. Plus, it's not like they know I even own this outfit. It's entirely stolen, after all.

I close the white door leading to my bedroom quietly, attempting to muffle the noise of the latch by keeping the doorknob turned.

This house feels like a prison. Even my own room feels like a mental asylum. A bit of mud flings against one of my white walls as I kick off my dirtied sneakers, and toss the records onto my bed.

Making sure my door is locked and toweled, I turn on my record player and put the Destructo Disk record onto it. I pull the receipt out of my jeans right pocket, tossing it onto my dresser before undressing quickly, neatly folding the baggy clothes and putting them in a box underneath my bed.

I lay on my bed, my ceiling fan blowing cold air down against my bare skin. It feels peaceful. The record players volume is so quiet that I can barely hear it. I stand up and put my ear closer to it.

I wish I was a riot girl, a riot girl punk
Fighting for equality and smearing all the chumps
Across the walls of the local clubs
Fueled by feminism and hard drugs
I like to talk politics, I like to strike fear
In all of the oppressed men that'd stand in my way
I'm not your plaything
I'm a motherfucking queen, because who needs a king?

The beat surges through my body as if I'm being electrocuted.

I wish I was a riot girl, feminazi punk
Not your average ordinary day job girl
I won't take your abuse
Quit acting like a bitch, and making up excuses
Girl, hanging with Bikini Kill
Female empowerment fills up the room I'm in
A never ending movement
All of these things make me wish I was a riot girl

The lyrics feel almost poetic. All about the struggle women feel.

I wish I was a riot girl, that would be cool
Taking what you know, and breaking all the rules
Screaming in your face till your ears get tender
Teaching you a thing about race and gender
I'd like to kick your ass
Yeah, that sounds fair
Hiding my brutality behind dyed hair
Men with guitars, they don't know shit
And if they wanna talk shit, they can meet me in the pit

How have I never heard of this band before... this genre before? It's wonderful. Its like I can feel the album rushing through my veins.

Girl, hanging with Bratmobile
If I can't hit those high notes, I'll just squeal them
Into the crowd, it's where I belong
Undercover feminine punk rock called
Riot girl
Riot girl

The rest of the album is just as sick as that second song... why have I been shielded from this for so long?

I like this. I like this a lot.

Sitting on my floor, stunned by the music, I suddenly remember. My receipt. I forgot to check my total.

I grasp for it up on my dresser, and pull it down. I uncrumple it only to see in black marker, a number.

I punch it into my phone quickly, and send a quick text to him.

ME - JUDE

7:37PM

ME: Thank you for the album. I liked it.