Castor Oil...sickeningly good

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Rocking in Shitville

Peter and Sammy were loading up the gear to head to a gig. It was a Tuesday night show which fucking sucked rotten asshole but it’s all a kickass fucking band like Targets of Demolition were going to get in this shithead town full of yuppie prick motherfuckers. People in shitville didn’t like to rock, they just wanted to be lame as hell and listen to crap ass bands like the Fudgie Boys and all that other frat rock shit. Still, the show was part of a battle of the bands which is something that Targets of Demolition were totally opposed to but like the other eight battles they had competed in that year there were extenuating circumstances that made it OK to play it even though all the other bands were sellout fuckfaces that sucked the corporate rock titty and licked Clear Channel’s balls as a habit. That’s why they always won and real bands like ToD had to give it their all in the 1:00 a.m. slot to the soundguy and the back wall. ToD DID NOT suck dick, (it even said so on their website) no matter what those assholes said on the internet. Someday ToD would find out who those pricks were and then the fucking hammer was coming down, no lie. You didn’t fuck with ToD and not get a beatdown. Not that it had ever come to ToD actually having to deliver the beatdown even when that jerkoff from Mountain Lyin’ challenged Peter to fight when he caught him peeling those gayass Mountain Lyin’ stickers off the bathroom wall at Rascals. ToD would have laid him out ToD style but the bitch and all his laughing ass friends weren’t worth it even when they were calling Peter and Sammy junior high school looking girls with Herpes. Fuck those bitches,

Anyway it was bound to be another typical gig in Fratville as Peter and Sammy liked to call it. Typical shit the room would be packed with these assholes in baseball hats while the gayass frat bands were playing and then they would clear out when the rock was delivered. None of the fucking dicklickers that lived the cubicle life could hang with real music anyway and ToD didn’t need their lame asses to rock. Bitches.

Peter and Sammy arrived at Hyjynx to load in for the show. Wouldn’t you fucking know it but the pricks from the Fudgie Boys were actually judging the fucking battle, What the fuck is up with that? Peter and Sammy knew that when Brent (the singer) showed up he would be pissed. It fucking sucked that Brent couldn’t ride over with the guys but his job at the stupid mortgage company kept him late making copies and shit. Brent had to go home and change his clothes too because khakis and polo shirts (he HAD to wear that shit, he didn’t actually want to like all the other assholes that did) were not ToD material. No fucking way.

Peter and Sammy loaded in their amps and stood around sullenly until one of the fucking geeks from the Fudgie Boys came over and said hey and asked if they needed a hand with anything. What a fag, fuck him. After they let Fudgie help them load in the drums and shit they went to get a beer and watch all the assholes stare at them. People in Fratville weren’t used to a couple of badasses like the men in ToD at the bar. All the stuck up bitches pretended they weren’t even there and the jock assholes were all like “excuse me” and “did you guys want to use this chair” and shit. What lame cocks.

Brent called on his cell and said his dad needed him to mow the lawn before the show. What the fuck man?!?!?! ToD was a brotherhood and all but shit, this was taking shit a little too far. Damn, this could totally fuck up the whole gig man! Shit!!!

Tomorrow…enter the rock.


  • That reminds me, I have to go mow the lawn.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:01 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home