April 26, 2008
Tour Blog: Columbus — Family Ties
“I’ve fucking had it!” I screamed. “I quit, man! Fuck this bullshit band, and fuck you!”
I punctuated those last two words by pounding my index and middle fingers into Girth’s chest. He had a stunned, slackjawed look on his face, an expressed that made me want to feel bad for him, but when I thought about all the fucking lies and the bullshit, it made me want to yell “fuck you” all over again!
The motel room had a more-tense-than-usual atmosphere. Carl, who actually turned out to be a good guy, looked ready to die. Riffs stared at the floor, shuffling his feet. Margo looked ready to jump over the bed and kill me. But, come on, more than anything else, the two of them drove me to it.
“Sorry, guys,” I said, looking in the direction of Riffs and Carl. Back to Girth and Margo, I said, “I’d appreciate it if you guys dropped my shit off at my house when you get back to L.A., but I’ll understand if you don’t.”
“You’ll live to regret this!” Girth suddenly roared. He lunged for my bass case, and before I could stop him, he’d torn it open, yanked out the bass, and smashed it against the wall. It did more damage to the cheap, thin drywall than it did to the bass, but that didn’t stop him from continuing the beat-down until he had officially pulverized my bass.
“And you wonder why I’m quitting,” I said softly, then left the motel.
You might be wondering why I quit now, after practically begging to get back into the band. Well, maybe not begging - after all, Girth asked me - but I certainly wouldn’t have turned him down. At that time, I’d lost all my money and was stranded working a shitty job in a warehouse on the northwest side of Chicago. Now, with a little nest-egg thanks to this tour (believe it or not, we played nearly half the scheduled gigs on this one), I won’t get stranded anywhere, and I can go back to L.A. and try to get myself hooked into another band.
But really, the change came about last night. I stopped at a little bar/greasy spoon called Blue Danube to get away from Girth and have a few drinks. We had a spectacularly awful rehearsal, which Girth - as usual - tried to blame all on me. But, what the fuck, when he blows a guitar solo, I don’t get how that could possibly be the rhythm section’s fault. That’s always how Girth operates, and I took it in stride like usual, then went off to be alone and get hammered.
To start, I got a few burgers and a pitcher of beer. One of the great things of being back in the Midwest is that you can order four burgers as an individual and not get funny looks. You can also down a pitcher in about 30 seconds and be declared a hero, not a “diseased” individual.
Impressed by my appetites, a sexy young thing calling herself Vicki sidled up beside me and introduced herself. I took one look at her dirty blonde hair, sunken eyes, and sallow face - and fell in love.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You seem a little down in the mouth.”
I rubbed my mouth with my hands and didn’t feel anything. Then I said, “It’s just my boss.”
“Oh yeah? Where do you work?” Vicki wondered.
“I’m in a band,” I said. “Abysmal Crucifix. You might’ve heard of us.”
She thought for a moment, then nodded in faint recognition and said, “Oh yeah, I had to watch your concert instead of Trading Spaces a couple weeks ago. I don’t really like the style, but it was kinda awesome when that chick shot the drummer. So wait, you’re in a band but you still call, I dunno, I guess that lead singer guy - you still call him your boss?”
“Look, it’s his band,” I sighed. “I just play the bass.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Eh, it was just a worse rehearsal than usual,” I said. “Also, I’m getting really tired of those assholes from Cloud Chamber showing up before we’re finished so they can watch. They all act like they’re better than us just because they believe in stuff like God and happiness.”
“Who?” Vicki asked.
“Oh,” I said. “They’re touring with us. They’re our opener. You’ve probably never heard of them unless you go to church four times a day but still pretend to like rock music. My boss refuses to even mention them. He likes to pretend they don’t exist, like we’re touring solo. They actually threatened our publicist with a lawsuit if we didn’t make note of touring with them on our site.”
“Wow,” Vicki said. “Your ‘boss’ sounds like kind of an asshole.”
“Kind of?” I said, then laughed.
Vicki smiled. “Why do you work for him?”
I shrugged. “Beats hauling air conditioners from one end of the room to another.”
“Is that what you used to do?”
“It was kind of an interim thing,” I said. “The worst thing about it is, the damn job was so easy - mindless and repetitive. If anything was moderately physically stressful, they’d insist we use a cart or a forklift. Back when I used to unwittingly run a warehouse for drug traffickers, they’d carry shit on the backs or shoulders. Teams of them would lug massive crates full of uncut cocaine onto boats. Fuckin’ pussies these days, I tell ya.”
“Sounds like you’ve led an interesting life,” Vicki said.
“It’s had its moments,” I said.
“So why don’t you quit the band and have another adventure?”
“Trust me,” I said. “My boss may be an asshole, but every damn day with the asshole is an adventure in some way or another.”
“Is it worth the aggravation?” Vicki asked.
“Probably not,” I shrugged.
“So you should quit.”
“Why?”
“Free yourself,” Vicki said. “Down that pitcher and think, for once. Think for yourself - quit that band.”
“Can I hang with you for awhile if I do?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said seductively.
So after drinking some more and spending a few private hours at her apartment (I don’t kiss and tell, even if what we did was mostly just keep drinking), I went back to the motel and quit.
I stopped by a Walgreens to pick up a few boxes of condoms, then went back to Vicki’s apartment. She was still asleep, so I hid each box in strategic locations - places they wouldn’t be seen but would be easily accessed by someone who knew they were there.
When she woke up, we did it a few times. It was a Friday, but Vicki had a weird work schedule - she worked Sunday through Thursday, as did the majority of her friends. They had a tradition of going to brunch on Friday mornings to discuss their shitty weeks. Vicki invited me along, but I opted out. She insisted, so I tied my good bandanna around my head and followed her down to her Civic.
At the IHOP, I met her four best friends - Marsha, doughy and middle-aged; a sexy younger woman named Carla; Tony, a jock asshole; and Frank, who wasn’t a jock but was certainly another asshole.
After my introduction Tony asked, “Hey, Vicki, where’d you pick this guy up? Cleveland?”
“Fuck off,” I said.
This shocked Vicki; actually, it shocked everyone, but I didn’t care too much about anyone except Vicki.
“What did you say?” Tony asked.
“I think you heard me, cocksucker.”
“I think I did.” Tony was trying to sound menacing, but it was such a stupid line I couldn’t help laughing.
Tony stood abruptly, making silverware clatter on the table.
“You wanna go outside?” Tony demanded, flexing his gargantuan biceps.
“Wouldn’t you prefer the men’s room?”
Vicki actually laughed at that. It took Tony a little longer to catch my meaning. When he did, Tony sneered and danced around the table, trying to get at me without disrupting the place settings.
I had no such qualms, so I took the opportunity to jump on the table and divebomb Tony. This got the attention of nearly everyone in the restaurant, making it all the more embarrassing when Tony threw me aside like a ragdoll, then jabbed on giant fist in my face, making me feel like he’d shattered my skull without him even breathing heavily.
“Can we get back to the meal now?” Tony asked.
Vicki kneeled down next to me, gently felt my inflamed head. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I tried to say, but it came out as a long, inarticulate grunt.
“Just watch out for Tony,” she whispered. “He has a temper. So does Frank, but you can probably take him.”
She helped me to my feet and got me seated back in a chair.
I looked at the menu until I got my bearings. Then I said, “So, Tony, how long were you in the navy before they discharged you for being too gay?”
“You motherfucker!” Tony shouted, pounding his fists on the table.
“Mikey!” Vicki gasped. “I can assure you, Tony isn’t gay. Not even a little.”
I gave Vicki a hard look. “So you fucked him?”
She looked uneasy and evasive.
“Yeah, I get it now,” I said. “She fucked both of you guys, so now you turned into hangers-on, just waiting for her to fuck you again, or maybe even commit.”
Tony and Frank exchanged annoyed glances.
“So, okay,” I said. “Maybe he’s not gay, but he probably has the smallest dick you’ve ever seen. Those melon-sized muscles gotta be compensating for something…”
Vicki looked like she was ready to agree when Tony leaped to his feet and shrieked, “In the parking lot! Right now!”
I nodded as I stood. I followed Tony to the parking lot, and as soon as he got into a fighting stance I ran. He tried to chase me, but - despite his good physical shape - he was way too bulky and actually got winded before I did. And I’m a smoker!
I ducked into an alley and called Vicki. “So what’s the deal with your friends?” I asked.
Tony overheard me and shouted, “I ain’t through with you!”
“I don’t think it’s my friends who are the problem,” Vicki sighed. “I’m sorry, Mikey. I don’t think this is gonna work out. Maybe you should go back to your band. It sounds like they were, well…right for you.”
She hung up before I could explode in a string obscenities. I tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer.
I stood in the alley for awhile, contemplating whether or not I should fight for her love or fight for Girth’s approval. I shrugged, took a piss against the wall, then went back out to the street and walked in the direction of the motel.
I knew I’d have to do something bold, possibly something that ripped off a movie Girth liked, in order to get back in his good graces. I had no idea what to do until I saw an old, partially rusted boombox sitting in the window of a thrift store. I went inside and found a half-dozen bargain-bin compilation tapes, bought all of them plus the boombox for $2.50.
When I got to the motel, I popped in a tape, turned the volume up as high as it would go, hit play, and raised it over my head.
You can buy her, you can buy her This one’s here, this one’s here, this one’s here and this one’s here Ev’rything’s for sale
For sale? dumb cunt’s same dumb questions Oh virgins? listen, all virgins are liars honey And I don’t know what I’m scared of or what I even enjoy Dulling, get money, but nothing turns out like you want it to
And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video He’s a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want
I eat and I dress and I wash and I still can say thank you Puking - shaking - sinking I still stand for old ladies Can’t shout, can’t scream, hurt myself to get pain out
I ‘T’ them, 24:7, all year long Purgatory’s circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes Funny place for the social, for the insects to start caring Just an ambulance at the bottom of a cliff
In these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video He’s a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want, if you want
I eat and I dress and I wash and I can still say thank you Puking - shaking - sinking I still stand for old ladies Can’t shout, can’t scream, I hurt myself to get pain out
Power produces desire, the weak have none There’s no lust in this coma even for a fifty Solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment
It was around this time that the motel room door popped open and Girth and Margo stepped out. They looked baffled.
The only certain thing that is left about me There is no part of my body that has not been used Pity or pain, to show displeasure’s shame Everyone I’ve loved or hated always seems to leave
Girth smiled, started descending the stairs, down from the second floor to the parking lot.
And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video He’s a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want, if you want
“I suppose you want back in!” he shouted over the music.
Power produces desire, the weak have none There’s no lust in this coma even for a fifty Solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment
I shrugged. “If you’ll have me!”
Don’t hurt, just obey, lie down, do as they say May as well be heaven this hell, smells the same These sunless afternoons I can’t find myself
He came closer and gave me a big bear hug.
Two dollars you rub her tits Three dollars you rub her ass Five dollars you can play with her pussy or you can lick her tits Choice is yours
I knew I was back in.
Written by Mikey Parker on April 26, 2008 5:08 PM
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Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08
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