bbbcnnie

[bbbcnnie]

backseat-philosopher​:

who: cole & open!

where: base camp!

what: cole is sick of bonnie’s music…

Cole tried to be agreeable– he really did! Try! But hearing nothing but Madonna and Whitney for the last three days was wearing on him, making him more irritable than usual. The second their RV was in park, Cole grabbed his backpack, offered a rushed goodbye, and all but collapsed out of the front door. He was stunned for a second; half of him was expecting all the stories about the summit– about a bigger group of rubber tramps– to be just stories. But the camp was full and bustling with commotion. Slinking through the throng of people, Cole located his target. Leaning forward on an arm, he mustered up a friendly smile. “You got a stereo deck that’s unoccupied? Or a Walkman? Mine’s busted.” More than he hated talking to new people, Cole needed to cleanse his ears– to listen to some real music.

***

you see, bonnie would describe herself as a good and patient woman. others wouldn’t, perhaps, but they could shove their opinions back up their whatevers. sure, yeah, she was no mother theresa, but she had worked on her temper and it wasn’t nearly as lethal to those around her as it once had been. robbing the rich blind really did wonders of settling a person! anyway, point is, bonnie could and would endure a sensible amount of provocation and agitation. having grown up with four siblings you sort of had to, you know, to survive.

but enough was e-fucking-nough. as so often, one walden alexander cole had managed to bring things to a boil. it wasn’t a rarity for the two of them to have the occasional argument about music, who got control of the radio (bonnie, obviously) and whatnot. but the past, say, four hours leading up to their arrival at the summit had crossed the line from an amicable squabble to ‘i’m about to throw you out of this moving car’ - territory. 

and so, when cole had moved to jump out the barely parked rv at the first chance, without so much as another word other than a muttered ‘bye’, in complete disregard of their argument, bonnie had wasted no time and climbed over tatiana’s lap, jumping out after him. this, this was not fucking finished. and she felt eerily close to her mother, possessed by her spirit, even, as she speed walked past the crowd of rubber tramps, coming to a stop a few feet away from cole.

‘stereo deck’, ‘walkman’. so he was looking for another poor soul who would play his shit music, huh? well. she certainly wasn’t a saint, but if she could save just one person from steely dan’s lastest tracks then, by god, she’d do this one good deed. her smile was wide, frozen, almost freakish in how fake it was as she approached cole from behind, clasping her hands on his shoulders. /small>

“there you are, sugar! been lookin’ for you all over, had me worried sick, you had! you can’t just get up and get runnin’!” bonnie squezed his shoulders, gave him a look that read ‘don’t fucking mess with me’ in how dark and fiery it was, before she turned to the stranger cole had approached, a warm smile on her face as she gave the best impression of those ladies from her momma’s book club, accent thicker than it had been in nearly eight years. “oh, i do apologise, i do! you see, this is my son here, walden alexander - he’s just so over-excited, this is his first time at the summit -  he’s only fourteen!” accentuated by a sharp pinch to cole’s cheek. “i say ‘only’ fourteen! heaven, where’s the time gone! my little baby all grown up - why don’t you say hello to the nice stranger, wally! come on, be kind. remember your manners, honeypie.”

[bbbcnnie]

WHO: bonnie + open!

WHAT: somebody get bonnie a gd pencil or she will do something drastic

WHERE:  the campground

so, the summit was always a nice and welcome event, time to relax and sit back, put your feet up, rest your muscles sore from running from the authorities. truly, bonnie did always look forward to the summit - didn’t happen too often that they stayed in one place for an extended period of time, and the restlessness soon made one’s soul weary - however, there could always be a sort of pattern observed. for bonnie, personally, at least. when the second or third day approached, the daybreak brought the boredom with it. sure, you had plenty time to go do the things you usually didn’t have time for. but .... well, what exactly were those things? when one spent their life constantly on the move, no need to do taxes or tedious housework or any of that. and besides, existing under such rushed and dangerous circumstances, bonnie had grown used to doing everything fast.

explaining why she was on her second cigarette since stepping outside and plopping down on a folding chair set up outside the rv, not even fifteen minutes ago. sunglasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose - cheeky buggers kept sliding forward - a litany of curses fell from her lips as she struggled to twist the messed up tape of one of her favourite  cassettes back into its casing. she highly suspected walden to be resposible for this crime, but what use was that to her now. no, the only thing of use right now would be ....

“hey!” pushing her sunglasses into her hair, she squinted at someone in the distance, giving them a lackluster wave to attract their attention. usually she would’ve just thrown something at them, but the only things handy were her cigarette and the tape. maybe next time. “hey, you there! comin’ my way? you happen to have a pencil or pen, or somethin’ similar with you?”

[bbbcnnie]

ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿ' ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿ' ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵐᵐᵃ ᶜᵃˡˡ !

ᵇᵒⁿⁿⁱᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵍˡᵒʳⁱᵃ ᵐᵃʳʸ ᶜᵃʳˢᵒⁿ

BONNIE CARSON? out here on the road, they have a reputation of being CUNNING + HUMOROUS but also RECKLESS + EASILY AGITATED, no wonder they’re called BONNIE. according to local legend, they’re 30 and when they pull up to camp not a soul can mistake the sound of GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY – CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL following them. some say they carry A FADED, YELLOWED PICTURE OF HER CHILDHOOD CAT; A PIECE OF RED STRING TIED AROUND HER FINGER THAT SERVES AS A MAKESHIFT WEDDING BAND; HER NAN’S PRAYER BOOK; EVERY RAY CHARLES TAPE SHE COULD FIND IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT  and have been traveling with THE CON JOBS.  ( soph ! )

pinterest - spotify 

CUE: ‘Our Father’ – The Five Blind Boys of Mississippi

A run-down bungalow-like shack, that probably used to be a farmhouse of some kind before big corporate came to town and robbed everyone of their land. Plaster’s coming off the wall, slowly but surely, but it’ll be another couple months before it gets damp and cold and someone’s actually gotta do something about that, so it’s ignored for now. The deep south, the 1950’s, in the midst of stifling heat, that’s where Constance Gloria Mary Carson is born, to mixed feelings – her father rejoices, a girl! Just what he wanted. Her mother only sighs and slumps back into the pillows. A girl, harder to get out of the house and working than a boy. Maybe she’ll be lucky again the next time ‘round.

Rolling Fork, Mississippi may have be a literal hellhole in every aspect of the word when looking back on it now, but from 1955 to 1960, the vast wasteland her father lovingly called their ‘backyard’ had been nothing short of an adventurous playground for little Connie May. Running around the place while momma shook her head and daddy read his paper, swinging by the tracks to watch the trains roll in and out every day, try and chase them for a bit until your lungs were burning and you were forced to stop, skip back home for a bland, in no way nutritious dinner. With a population of barely 1,300 , there was not much else to do. Perfect place to grow up, huh?

Soon enough, the Carsons turned from a family of four to a family of seven, and once deemed old enough – ‘She’s five, Jerry, for Heaven’s sake, she’ll manage watching’ the little ones, calm your horses’ – Connie May’s childhood abruptly stopped as she instead assumed the role of primary caregiver for her three younger siblings. Mom and Pop had to work all day, every day, with the paint peeling off the walls and the floorboards disintegrating underfoot, they had no other choice. In the neighbourhood, though, there are people who’ve got it worse, and the Carson’s are a pious family, so Connie May doesn’t even think about being unthankful for the little they have. Because they could have even less – when little Connie thinks about that too much her lips begin to quiver and her eyes grow awfully hot, a stinging pain underneath her lids as she tries to blink away her tears. Her mother had once reported, complained, nearly, to Mrs. Johnson from too houses down that Connie May was ‘a sickly little creature blessed – or cursed – with empathy’.

CUE: ‘Oh Happy Day’ – The Edwin Hawkins Singers

From the get-go, Connie May just … knows she’s different. She can feel it. It causes trouble from the moment she starts to talk. She’s an opinionated little girl, never shy to speak her mind. Because when the Swinging Sixties roll around, as Connie grows older and wiser, it gets increasingly harder and then, one day, impossible to ignore the inevitable. Rolling Fork was a death sentence. You’re born here, you procreate here, you die here. Simple as that. As your fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers have done before you. Get married off to the highest bidders, have a couple kids – or a couple dozen – and care for them while your slob of a husband goes to work at his shitty job that has him earning just enough so you’re just poor, not dirt poor.

Everyone around her, neighbours, classmates, they just .. .accept their situation. No, they are content with it. Content with knowing there’ll be no space for surprises, for action and adventure and all the fun stuff Connie May reads about in the novels she secretly slips from the library. That the furthest they’re ever getting from here is Louisville, if they’re lucky. It’s infuriating. It’s making her lose her mind.

The only escape from insanity is every other Sunday, when Momma and Daddy have to work and Mr. and Mrs. Dowall from next door take them to church. And heavens, does Bonnie love church. Not their regular church! Oh no, that’s just a stuffy little room, full of the same snot nosed kids she sits next to at school, who pull her hair and call her ‘nanny’ because she can’t join them at the county fair, has to watch her siblings instead. No, no, the Dowall church is different. The service there is the most exciting part of Connie May’s week. There’s always laughter and singing, gospel and worship in the way that she can get behind. A few weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Dowall, with Momma’s approval, gift her two of their old records.

There are few fond memories of home, but one of them is dancing around the living room to ‘I Got A Woman’ and ‘Strange Things Happening Everyday’, standing on her father’s feet.

CUE: ‘Jesus Is Just Alright With Me’ – The Doobie Brothers

Connie May turns 17 in 1972, and by that time she’s got 2 friends, excluding her three younger siblings. Obviously excluding them, whatever connection she’s had to them has faded ever since their mother had begun to use Connie as a prime example for a person that had failed in life. Because her brother Robert had married his high school sweetheart the second they’d both turned 18, and he’d moved out a day after the wedding. They’re just … kids to her now. They’re getting older, too. They all take after her mother. It makes Connie sad, her dad, too, she sees it in the way he scratches his beard as if he’s lost in thought when, really, he’s tragically melancholic. Connie often wonders for how long her parents have been unhappy for.

Well, the ‘swinging sixties’ have come and gone, and so have the Dowell’s from next door and the fun services. Not dead, oh no, they just moved to live with their daughter and grandchildren, down in California. Good for them. Connie’s left, and she’s using the music they’ve gifted her to rebel against fucking everything in this god forsaken town. Tommy, Misha and her listen to records their parents don’t allow them to listen to because it’s ‘filthy, ungodly music’ in secret. Somehow, Connie May managed to convince her Momma that The Doobie Brothers were a nice, Christian rock n’ roll band. Maybe she’d had a gift for the odd con job ever since the beginning, huh?

CUE: ‘The Wild One’- Suzi Quatro

It takes another five fucking years for her life to finally change. In the year of our Lord, 1977, a dishevelled looking young woman with a million dollar smile rolls into town and Connie can only think of divine intervention as the cause of this … this miracle. Freshly twenty two, she’s already a burden to her parents – and reminded of that fact daily, thanks Momma! – and wants nothing more than to get out but there’s no way to escape. No loophole. Until, enter stage left, Tatiana appears. And changes her life for fucking ever,

First by changing her name. A simple mishearing turns Connie May into BONNIE and it just sticks. She sticks with it. She’s a new person and ready to embrace it.

Everything about Tatiana draws her in, and it is quite possible that the other woman is the coolest fucking person Bonnie has ever met. She’s so … god! She’s so everything that Rolling Fork is not, everything that Bonnie wants to be. She’s funny and nice, in her own way. She’s the most beautiful woman Bonnie has ever laid eyes upon. She’s dangerous and Bonnie craves the thrill of the unknown more than oxygen.

It's a quick and easy decision when Tatiana fina-fucking-lly invited her to join her on the road, live a life of adventure. In the dark of the night, Bonnie stuffs only the most important of her belongings into a duffel bag, leaves a note for her father telling him she’s safe and happy, and expressing her hope that he, too, may find happiness again, and then jumps into the passenger seat, laughing manically. Ready to leave her old life behind.

She doesn’t even glance in the rearview mirror when the pull out of the driveway.

However, Bonnie does lean out of the window as far as she can as they pass the sign that, in ugly faded letters, says: “You’re now leaving Rolling Fork! May God bless you and come again soon!” A fair bit of it was left covered in her spit.

CUE: ‘Whole Lotta Love’ – Led Zeppelin

Bonnie adjusts to life on the road fucking awfully at first but hey, she’s got much to learn and Tatiana is the best teacher one could’ve asked for. Bonnie might be naïve but she’s more than ready and willing to thrust herself into this life of crime. A little confused but she’s got the spirit! Most times her job’s simply to wait at the side of the road and look pretty and then pump the fucking gas when she goes from distraction to getaway driver. It’s turbulent, everything moving so fucking fast, but Bonnie has never felt so alive.

And so they make their way through the States, got a little routine going of sorts. Until one day, when they turn from Thelma and Louis to Bonnie and Clyde.

Usually, Bonnie’s got this thing where she puts on Creedence when they do their jobs, pull their stunts. This time, she goes for Led Zeppelin. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unfamiliar that causes the adrenaline to pump through her veins even faster, until suddenly, she finds herself standing behind some security guards who’d been about to corner and overpower Tatiana – she’s standing behind them and she’s got a gun pressed to one’s back while she’s got one of her boots pressed to the other’s neck. The guards let them go, they speed off, and once it’s safe enough, Bonnie pulls to the side of the road to yank Tatiana forward by her shirt. And, well, the rest is history. The rest is foggy windows and giggles and a drive to some poor pastor’s church who they bribe into giving them a marriage license, a fucking official one.

Next time they pull into the summit they’re fucking married. Spontaneous decisions had always been their forte.

CUE: ‘Blue Highway’ – Billy Idol

1985. It’s been some long years on the road since Rolling Fork. Hectic and dangerous and thrilling and just all in all fucking delightful. Even eight years down the line, Bonnie can’t find it within herself to regret the decisions that had brought her here, back to the summit, in their trusty old RV, her wife by her side. She fucking loves it, all of it. She loves Tatiana. Maybe not in the most conventional of ways for a married couple but she does, she loves her. Even if this open relationship typa situation they got on their hands isn’t her piece of cake – who’s she to complain? She might not be a godly woman anymore but she’s the same little Connie May that couldn’t bring herself to be unthankful for everything she had.

Hell, Bonnie even finds herself growing more fond of the other Con Jobs they picked up along the way. Even if she gets into fights with Wally over his choice of music every other day, even if Alfie and Wally do a god awful job of sneaking around every fucking night. She’s never wanted to be a mother or any of that shit, having spent her formative years as the sole caregiver of three little kids meant she had quite enough of kids for now.

But, then again, having cared for her siblings all these years had left its mark, and though she tries to hide it, Bonnie can’ t help but care when there’s a lost soul that needs her help. ‘Cursed with empathy’. At least you got that one right, Momma.

One rule has never waivered these past years on the road: Nobody touches the goddamn radio. Bonnie’s got full control over it. Even if she wants to take a trip down memory lane and listen to Sister Rosetta sing her best gospel hymns. Even if she wants to indulge her inner child with Madonna and Whitney’s latest hits. Everyone just has to sit and endure. So – Hands off!

[bbbcnnie]

[bbbcnnie]