The Black Door

It was The Black Door before rehearsal to catch up on Andres’ escapades in Vegas. Jesus God…The Alaskan…the poor bastard…I must have looked like a dear in headlights until 11pm, at least…I’m still in serious shock after hearing the terrible chain of events…I would’ve destroyed the son of a bitch and eaten his sill beating heart. Whenever any of us travel, a renewed sense of urgency is ignited in all of us. “We must get out of our current gigs and hit the road.” We want to dance with as many devils as our scrawny limbs can handle. “Man, remember when Squeze was lean and not so completely fucked on ‘ludes and ‘The Turkey?’” Live out of a jukebox, eh? Only the lowest of parasites will suck on the seductive tit of celebrity, eh? Nothing but tight trousers and glamour bombs, eh?

“America’s great, now. If you don’t talk back you hide your face. Crawl in rubble and smile and scorn at that snail-paced creature going up and down walls. I just want to celebrate. I’m not going to sell my soul to him, when you look right in.” -RH-

Ho ho…gets me every time…preach it, brother…out like trout.
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