The Endless Bummer’s Summer Mixtape Vol. II and Literary Vignette

1. Someday by The Growlers [00:00]
2. Ruby Soho (Rancid Cover) by Jimmy Cliff [04:47]
3. To The Lighthouse (Millionyoung Remix) by Memoryhouse [07:47]
4. Bucktown by Smif-n-Wessun [11:22]
5. Shitty by Pangea [15:53]
6. With Your Suit and Tie On (Marvin Gaye x Justin Timberlake) by RRod [17:53]
7. The Beach by Jonathan Richman [22:02]
8. Hearts of Fools by Still Corners [24:47]
9. Shawty is Da Shit (Giraffage Remix) by The Dream [28:39]
10. Two Weeks by Scott & Charlene’s Wedding [33:43]
11. Step to My Girl by Souls of Mischief [36:45]
12. Took My Heart by Travis Bretzer [41:56]
13. I Never Dreamed by The Cookies [44:42]
14. The Error by CJ Fly (Prod. by Cookin’ Soul) [47:28]
15. Girl Watcher by The O’Kaysions [50:47]
16. Memories by Hunter Cottle (Prod. by The Ambassador) [53:20]

Independence Day

The clock’s hand was at a 90 degree angle. Mickey’s red 8-speed rolled along the black tar top of Clovercrest Park with a gentle glide. It was morning; the neighborhood’s alarm clocks had not quite rung, but Mickey was far above the lazy sleepiness of his suburb, he was wide awake. With coffee in his blood and sleep lifting off his eyes, he began the summer’s daily route. The first stop happened to be his family’s friends, the Burtons. The 8 speed’s front tire came to a stop, parking itself directly in front of the family’s walkway. Mickey lowered his arm back, grabbed a newspaper and flung it toward their home. Inside, Mickey saw Patrick Burton, the father, drinking coffee and watching CNBC. The man waved at the diligent teenager from inside his home. Mickey went on and rolled toward his favorite part of the route: Garden Street. It was a long downhill road, the canopies of large oak trees bent over the road as if trying to kiss, the houses hidden by vines and suburban vegetation, peeked out from behind the arms of their green captors with mysterious curiosity—it was something out of a movie. Today, however, was different.

Mickey peddled for a good fifteen minutes but never reached the beautiful trail’s conclusion. No end in sight. House after house. Brown roof after brown roof. The clock’s hand now rested at 180 degrees. Mickey passed a family barbecuing outside. The wife’s bosomy red and white picnic patterned dress waved hello to him as he passed. He smiled and continued peddling. He came upon a group of shaggy haired elementary students perfecting their kick flips in the middle of the street. They waved and said what’s up dude and continued their fun. Strange, Mickey thought, he had never seen any of these people—where were the Cheevers? the Thortons? He began to wonder if he had taken a wrong turn. The red 8 speed rolled through a public sports field complex. Families were laughing and swimming and pissing in the country club’s chlorine tank, big brothers were dunking little brothers. Kids ran around the diamond field. It was something out of a movie. White-Anglo-Saxon-Protestant families bounced fuzzy green balls across white nets. Mickey had never passed this in previous paper runs, he knew he was lost in his own suburb.

Mickey was still rolling down Garden Street when the sun began its gradual sink into the ground. He became worried. He’d never been late to his house. His parents would be worried sick. The 8 track came to a halt and the front wheel swapped spots with the rear wheel. He began driving back toward the bosomy red and white picnic patterned dress, but he didn’t come across the sports complex, the shaggy haired elementary kids or the barbecue. On the right, Mickey glanced at the golf course, it’s vibrant green obscured by the black of the night. Atop the largest mound he observed three teenagers smoking a funny looking, crooked cigarette. He continued down Garden Street. He came upon a large twinkling mansion with a boat named The Swimmer parked out front. He hit the brakes and observed the window to the right of the boat. He saw four high school graduates breaking into their parents’ liquor cabinet. The gang snagged a bottle of Jose Cuervo, mixed it with orange juice and guzzled it down.

Distressed and tired, he hopped onto his 8 speed and began peddling faster than he had ever before. His white sneakers blurred in a circular collage along the chainset. He peddled and peddled and peddled for what seemed an eternity until suddenly, Mickey recognized his own home—on Garden Street. He lived on Magnolia Street. But the paperboy was too exhausted to question the oddness of the scenario and the 8 speed came to a stop in front of the house. He opened the door and called out for his parents. No answer. He heard laughter coming from his backyard. He cautiously approached the back door, and peered through the blinds. His adolescent eyes lay upon the sight of a naked man and woman bouncing in the smooth water of his pool. They got up and approached the screen-door. Mickey darted behind his mother’s closet and rested his eyes between the door’s blinds. The naked pool intruders were the Burtons. Mickey leapt out from behind the closet causing Mrs. Burton to let out a frightened scream. Mickey demanded answers. Mr. Burton asked Mickey if he was lost. It was something out of a movie.

-Ryan Ricks

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