Photo by John Connelly
Grommunist Slamifesto, Vol 2: The Hunger
In the past month, the otherwise peaceful, drum-circle-drenched town of Santa Cruz has been haunted by a disquiet that many feel but few can name. Reports of the sounds of grinding wheels and anguished howls emanating from caves obscured by morning fog have been whispered among only the bravest, and only in the shelter of the safest places. The sights of foaming mouths and battered helmets, caught only momentarily behind lighthouses, beneath roller coasters, or in the doorways of eco-friendly businesses, continue to burn as a lingering after-image in the retinas of the poor souls unfortunate enough to witness them. The afflicted, even more unwashed and scraggly than is average around here, lurch from stranger to stranger, seeking, if not relief, then understanding. The lucky few – if indeed, it is humane to call them that – receive their answer in two hushed words: Sugar Skulls.
Yes, the benighted half of the Derby Groms have not taken their 74-48 loss to the Bumper Scars with the grace one would see from girls better acquainted with the pleasantries of refined society, since refined the sugar comprising these Sugar Skulls is not. That sugar is raw, and the Skulls wanted to use it as sweetener in the bitter, black coffee of revenge on Saturday night as skate-to-skate grombat resumed. Very soon, it was apparent – just having the hunger for victory would not be enough. The Bumper Scars had not gone soft while basking in their victory. Any team with Dirty Die Anna and Roadkill Ruby must be considered as dangerous as a cornered wolverine, one which, in addition to being cornered, also has possession of a gun and knowledge of how to use it, anomalous though that may be for this species. Add Hana Slam Tana’s speed, Gwen StepOnYa’s grit, and T-N-Tink’s power to that team, and suddenly you’ve perhaps unwisely equipped said wolverine with a whole arsenal of man-made implements of unmitigated destruction.
Does this simile frighten the Sugar Skulls? Of course, it does not, you fool. Comet Striker and Jackie Skellington were on the case, and the lead was batted back and forth like one of those formerly popular koosh balls: 7-4, 11-12, 17-18, 21-18, 24-24. Kenny the Shark heard the call to do the Shark Chomp, to be sure, but the time for childish things had passed. She was too busy racking up nine crucial points, so the masses would just have to entertain themselves. They responded by chanting for Sugar Skull Betty BiteMe, but the Bumper Scar bench would have none of it, responding with a chant that made up in ferocity what it lacked in low-end frequencies.
Then, with six minutes to go and reigning champion Bumper Scars sitting on a 33-27 lead, a rogue element disrupted plans for a repeat victory. That element?
Scoreboard mix-up.
It was not the Bumper Scars who led 33-27. It was the Sugar Skulls. And as the old saying goes, don’t ever give the Sugar Skulls a lead. You might not – and very likely won’t – and in this case, specifically, definitely will not – see that lead again. Final score: 51-42. Vengeance is fine.
How did it happen? The Scars may have asked themselves that, but they already knew, deep in their hearts. A star had been born that night, a star who was not a Scar but a Skull, and her name is Betty BiteMe. Sitting on stage after the bout alongside her sisters-in-arms, she heard her mountainous, astonishing point total announced to the adoring crowd: 31! As the audience roared, she leaned back, tipped her head heavenward and sounded her barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. Any grom hearing it, be she Bumper Scar or Sugar Skull, will surely never rest until reaching such majestic heights herself.
Write-up by Brian James
Santa Cruz Derby Girls - THE Rollergirls of Santa Cruz
