you were one of Johnny Cades best friends. Johnny Cade was mixed up with the greasers, you knew them but not well, only through Johnny. Johnny Cade had big black eyes in a dark tanned face; his hair was jet-black and heavily greased and combed to the side, but it was so long that it feel in shaggy bangs across his forehead. He always had a nervous, suspicious look in his eye. Johnny remindeds you of a little puppy that had been kicked too many times.

one day you hadn’t heard from Johnny so you go out looking for him. You come across his body in the street, nearly knocked out cold. His face had been nearly mutilated by the socs, a large cut across his eyebrow and his nose. His hair and clothes were stained with blood. He was wearing a black leather jacket that had been ripped off and thrown to the side, a white shirt now soaked with mud and blood. We was wearing jeans, stained with mud and ripped at the knees. He is laying on the side of a curb his mouth bleeding furiously.