Greasers Monologue

Words: 890
Pages: 4

Creative Writing (Park Scene)
Ponyboy and I were half asleep sitting in the park when a familiar looking Blue Mustang began slowly circling the park. It stopped on the road right beside us and five Socs came pouring out, including Randy and Bob. I stared at Bob’s many rings and I dreaded, as I remembered who the Soc was that jumped me.
“Hey guys, look, it’s the same white trash that tried to steal our girls,” Bob spit out, a little loudly, unable to control his voice. He was extremely drunk and his words were slurred. All five Socs were drunk.
I knew that they wouldn’t back off without a fight. I peered over at Ponyboy and saw that his face was red with rage.
Pony made the first move. He spat at the Socs, a ball of saliva in response to Bob’s
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Three of the Socs slugged me a few times and then went to help the other Socs to tackle Ponyboy. Two of them yanked Pony’s hand and dragged Pony back, holding him captive. Then, Randy and one other Soc began pushing him towards the fountain and I caught a few of Randy’s words, “Hey, Greaser! Need a bath?”
I stood up with rage and noticed that the Socs were dunking Pony’s head in the park fountain, attempting to drown him. Ponyboy was defenseless under the water and Pony seemed on the verge of passing out.
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All of the other Socs seemed dazed; when they realized what had happened, the other four Socs bolted out of the park. In only a few seconds, it was just Ponyboy and me. I was still on top of Bob, with my hand gripping the knife, my knuckles pure white. And then I realized I had killed someone. I knew that it was partially just self-defense, but I would still be charged with murder. Just the thought of killing someone sent a sick feeling all the way through my body.
I sat next to the dead Soc for a while, thinking about what would happen to me. Would I be charged with manslaughter? Would I be found guilty and be sent to jail and end up as a JD like Dally? Would my parents even care? These thoughts flooded my mind and sent shivers down my spine. I had killed Bob. I actually killed him. And now, I was wanted. Not wanted by my parents, or wanted by my friends, but wanted by the police.
I knew I had to get away, or else the fuzz would lock me up in the cooler. I stood up, and carefully picked my way around the pool of blood surrounding Bob, heading towards Ponyboy’s still body. I kneeled down next to him. He was breathing regularly and his eyes were