ZID Punk Church: THE END

Remember what happened last night? Good. Now tell the world.

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The Urbane Spaceman
Super Drunkard
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Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 5:18 pm

ZID Punk Church: THE END

Post by The Urbane Spaceman »

Sean lied there in that tub for a few moments.


He was quite a sight I tell you. All of his body hair was singed off, and the hair on his noggin was much shorter now. He still wore them long black boots, which probably saved the soles of his feet from getting sliced, but one might surmise that his soul was kinda cut up now.


The shower curtain suffered some melting, and that added to the curious aroma of 151 when flambéed, in addition to the powerful odor of burnt hair. If you don’t know what that smells like, then you should right here and now, take a lighter-




-and put it back into your pocket. You should never smell burned hair. It smells like a bad day at the morgue. It smells like you drove your vehicle with the parking brake engaged upon the highway.



Jerry said, “You have now been washed and cleansed by Desire!”

Sean said, “Fuck You, Asshole!”


He placed his huge, meaty arm over the side of the soaked tub and pulled his body up a bit. He tried to put his heavy legs underneath him to get up, but those thigh high boots didn’t allow him to bend his knees all that well.


He would need help to get back up and out of the tub so that he could have a quiet word with that Fat Jerry.


Yeah, right. There would be more fighting. It was always the way with them two.


Joey went forth and he grabbed the only towel in the whole place. Once bright white, it was now quite tanned with various spots of wiping dirty arse.


Sean said, “Ah, thank you Joseph. I could use a good wiping.”


But no, Joey knelt and used it to wipe away all of the glass chards. He was trying to help Sean, but Sean didn’t see it that way. He screamed.


He said, “Duuuuude! I thought you had my back!”


Joey said, “You need to stop slipping and start tripping. You don’t need this nasty-ass rag all over your cuts. Now stop crying like a little baby.”


I looked over at Fat Jerry, and he was smiling his most evil grin. Then I saw him do something unspeakable.


You see, he still had half a bottle of that 151 in his hand, and he was raising it to his lips.



That fat fucker.



The first sip form it after this shit happened to Sean would go to Sean.

I ran and grabbed it and pulled it close to my chest as I smacked into Fat Jerry.


He fell down on that toilet and he smashed the reservoir. The cheap plastic seat lid went sideways, and so did that mean prick.

He rolled over onto his side, and then he moaned like a dirty whore.


I held that bottle straight out and Joey got up from his cleaning duties. He smiled.


I said, “Sean, welcome to the party.”


Now, I would have hoped that Sean was all of a sudden better, and he should have known that it was all good now,


But no:


He took that bottle and he threw it at Joey's head and he killed my best friend.




And that was how it all ended.



Dayam.



Good night.

























Just kidneying ya.



Did you forget about the ZID?

Jeez.




Yeah, such a thing removes you from the occurrences happening to you, by one degree of reality.


You are a passenger; along for the ride. Nothing is really happening to you, until you come down.


Then, there will be pain to pay. He would end up stuck to his dirty sheets from bloody scabs, if he was lucky after the night ahead had finished its squalid unfolding.

Sean had watched Joey clean up, and he witnessed what I had just done to Jerry,

-and so he welcomed that bottle of 151.



He chugged hard, and deep, and he left some in it for us.


He said, “Man, I don’t feel anything now.”


Do ya ken, that was the scariest part of the whole thing.





Time for a Martini. I wonder how a rum martini from 151 would taste right now?





This is the End of the Beginning, that’s all.







Indeed, the next part is our travel to the punk show gig, and that was where we began to sell our wares. This will be about how we became the Kings of ZID, there, in that desolate, arid land in the middle of a high desert river valley.



It will be called, “The ZID Party” and I sure hope that you follow along. Let us have some fun, shall we? I know that we did, until it all came crashing down.


It's all true, you know.



*ahem*



I am the Urbane Spaceman, and I will never let you down, until we splash down in the ocean upon our return to the Earth.


I will DRINK! to you now, magnificent, mighty Modern Drunkard.


*chug*



Let’s go to town and burn it down. Crank this shit up to 11, baby.



Tahoooo...




.

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