Grits!
We ran through the rain tonight, our laughs tearing through the air like halcyons; we were laughing spirits gliding through the pouring rain on the city streets, racing to our unknown destination. Just running-- don’t know where to go. Right! No, Left! Faster! Duck under hear guys, for we are wet enough already.
We made it to The Social, torrents pouring from our soaking bodies, frozen by the rush of air conditioning striking us upon entrance to this domain, which, over the course of the night, would become a whole 'nother dimension.
Music traversing through time barriers played for us incredible sounds of worlds yet undiscovered by modern man. They had no lyrics, for they didn't need any. This was future music.
The singer of the daughters is a drunkard, already with 5 ginger ales and whiskeys, another is ordered and all hell breaks loose. He swims through the crowd, dissapearing and emerging like a haggard kraken with drool pouring from its face. I lose him again until I see that he has lost the wrestling match with the stage as well has his pants which are now fighting is ankles exposing his prick and testicles for all to see. I look over at Paul who looks unaware of the sight set before us all, upon which I mutter, "Paul... do you see what’s going on?" and he just nods his head and replies with a "yea" that is drowned out but the screeching guitars. Then he makes the mistake of looking around for the singer and sees what's really going on, and Paul makes the look of shack and amazement as I says to him "oh yeah? cuz I think you don’t know what’s going on right now..."
Pants are off for the remainder of the song, which concludes with an angry singer storming off stage in a mysterious fit of anger (were the pictures we took not enough, or did he demand sex?).
Interpretive dancing in the parking lot to Gil Mantera's Party Dream, Grits that stick together-- "Grits are the plauralization of a grit times a million, and this is one solid grit! I am holding grits in my hands! How am I doing this?! There are grits in my drink! Where's a plastic bag-- I need to show this to somebody!!"
Hell yes for us.
We made it to The Social, torrents pouring from our soaking bodies, frozen by the rush of air conditioning striking us upon entrance to this domain, which, over the course of the night, would become a whole 'nother dimension.
Music traversing through time barriers played for us incredible sounds of worlds yet undiscovered by modern man. They had no lyrics, for they didn't need any. This was future music.
The singer of the daughters is a drunkard, already with 5 ginger ales and whiskeys, another is ordered and all hell breaks loose. He swims through the crowd, dissapearing and emerging like a haggard kraken with drool pouring from its face. I lose him again until I see that he has lost the wrestling match with the stage as well has his pants which are now fighting is ankles exposing his prick and testicles for all to see. I look over at Paul who looks unaware of the sight set before us all, upon which I mutter, "Paul... do you see what’s going on?" and he just nods his head and replies with a "yea" that is drowned out but the screeching guitars. Then he makes the mistake of looking around for the singer and sees what's really going on, and Paul makes the look of shack and amazement as I says to him "oh yeah? cuz I think you don’t know what’s going on right now..."
Pants are off for the remainder of the song, which concludes with an angry singer storming off stage in a mysterious fit of anger (were the pictures we took not enough, or did he demand sex?).
Interpretive dancing in the parking lot to Gil Mantera's Party Dream, Grits that stick together-- "Grits are the plauralization of a grit times a million, and this is one solid grit! I am holding grits in my hands! How am I doing this?! There are grits in my drink! Where's a plastic bag-- I need to show this to somebody!!"
Hell yes for us.
posted by Tserrof at 1:09 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home