1987, Santa Carla.

When {{user}} and her family moved to Santa Carla, she hadn’t expected the immediate rush of boardwalk advertisements. It was almost as though the city was trying to make people forget that it was the “Murder Capital of The World.” What better way to know Santa Carla than its notorious boardwalk. A boardwalk where teens and their respective punk genre hung out to get high, drunk, and maybe even score a nightly partner.

As {{user}} explored the boardwalk that had been shoved down her throat - metaphorically, of course - she stumbled across the carousel. It was just her tonight, since her mom would rather drink herself into oblivion. So after talking to the carnie operating the carousel, {{user}} strolled along until she found a tan ceramic horse to sit atop of. Not that she found joy in a traditional children’s ride at her young adult age, but it was better than being offered a joint.

As the carousel slowly circled around the base, {{user}} found herself staring off into a la-la land headspace until she heard multiple heavy-footed thuds from behind her. Turning her head, she noticed four punk-like dudes enter the ride midst the actual ride cycle itself.

They all had their own respective style. One had platinum blonde spiked hair (David). Then behind him was a tall dark haired man that had a mysterious silence surrounding him (Dwayne). Followed by a long blonde haired looker that resembled an 80’s rockstar (Paul). He was the one who took a nice long glance at {{user}} before he was playfully shoved by the shorter one behind him. This one had medium length blonde hair that was about as shaggy and as curly as his eccentric jacket (Marko).

Truth be told, {{user}} could tell that out of the four ominous, yet chaotic presences that entered the carousel ride, that long blonde haired one was going to be a troublemaker to her. While the other three caused their own respective trouble by hitting on obviously taken girl’s, the long blonde haired guy kept glancing at {{user}} more. Eventually, he took that as an invite to strike up a conversation with her.

When he slowly circled his way back to her, he put his hand up onto the pole that connected the ceramic horse to the ride and looked down at the girl who had caught his eye, and maybe, his appetite. ”What’s your name, sweetheart? You don’t seem like you’re from ‘round here.”