This past Sunday an attempt was made on my life. No, it wasn't angry readers hopped up on lattes and rabid after clicking foul, rage-inducing internet posts (that last line has been copyrighted by Metro LLC). No, this savage threat came from within the inner circle.
It was late in the afternoon and I was just waking up. Three beers later I received a phone call from the JCM's no-good scag baron of a tambourine player, Elizabeth First, saying she was outside. My first thought was, "How did she find me? Was it that whore Susanna Dean that told her?" The reason for the visit was to deliver me a care package with the evil intent of ending me. I did not realize this at the time, but I did verify that we had a conversation regarding a visit the night before, both drunk/buzzed, that I forgot. At the time I didn't even give my location because I chalked it up to late night drunk talk. I then realized that I gave the location last year when we plotted for her to come to one of my municipal appearances and toss a custard pie into [redacted's] face. The plan would have failed anyway because the Whiner Club ......ah fuck it, oh well, whatever, nevermind. I decided to exit the Compound and confront this beast.
We maintained the six foot social distancing rules (despite her already violating it by making a non-essential visit), (Spoiler alert-It was essential; more on that in the coda). I was on the porch and her sitting on the sidewalk. After seconds, that turned to me on the porch with a vodka and Coke and a case of PBR and her on the sidewalk with a quart of vodka and some other soda, looking like a princess in need, giving much more than she received. I was tempted to put the [redacted] down and lets go downtown to the neighborhood disco. But they're all closed. So we just settled in, a rare breed of battle-hardened vampires, after a decade still breaking rules. The neighbors were....curious.
We caught up with current events like social distancing, the virus, etc. Honestly, at this point, I was disgusted for even participating in it. We then had a polite and rational dialogue where I said the restriction rules were both excessive yet necessary; the perfect paradox. You have one front saying their rights are being taken away (much like my litigation with the First Amendment Freak Speech) and are fueled by government propaganda. And on the other front we have those with a more medical/scientific approach and fully subscribe to the sanctions, also fueled by government propaganda; the ultimate of ironies. The left, right, laughers, screamers all end up as lemmings. Fear, and to some degree, religion are the "go-to's" for keeping everybody in line, and that is how it always has been. Its like the whole world has turned Catholic with the mantra, "No fun until its too late, and then you die." Fuck that. I decided to lighten the mood by discussing steaks and my frustration by not being able to grill a steak. The ones I have tried have been okay to good, but not up to my standards. The devil woman said she would grill me a steak when we go up north to blow up trees and cottages. I digress, back to the attempt on my life.
I should have seen it coming but was just happy to finally see a friend. The vodka and Coke was Stage One. I stay away from hard drink and can't have caffeine because of a bad heart, Angina Pectoris, I think. You would have to ask my doctor, though he has stopped returning my calls.
Next up was the case of PBR. Now what follows could have resulted in a stroke or a brain bubble, but that pales in comparison to what a single can of PBR does to a man's stomach. Fuck it, I slammed three to start with no worries about pissing out of my ass.
Next up the fact that Nazi traitor managed to get me out of the Compound. I have extreme allergies and everything is blooming out there. This is going to croak me. Here I am spending 30 minutes outside taking it all in with a brain embolism looming.
Finally, after I was about to sic the dogs on her she gave me an envelope with [redacted]. I put my empty cup (six feet away), hoping for a refill, but she took it as the cue to leave, that vile Marxist.
Back inside the sun went down and I cut up and fried six cubed potatoes in anticipation of watching the live stream of this year's Detroit Music Awards while on [redacted]. Of course, Detroit fucks up harder and there was a 45 minute delay. By this time it was too late. I couldn't deal with Ancient Jill Jack claiming another DMA as I waited for this to take hold. The vibes started to kick in as I felt sorry for Jill as this yearly night is the vindication....of a catalogue of nothingness. I watched a Muggs video after they won and scrambled to find a calendar. To be fair, the song was good and they are good guys, although that could be the vodka, PBR, and [redacted] talking. I forgot to nominate ourselves this year and I am sure "Altered Photos" would have won. The link is one post back. Besides, we've already won so fuck it.
The care package was kicking in and I was feeling mellow (as promised) so I retreated to the bedroom office and the National Affairs Desk. I was staring at a wall with no music and the horrid, toxic news playing outside at the Sports Desk, and things began to shift. Pounding drums outside the window at 3am and crows trying to get into the room. Horrific black wings fluttering under the door, the cats were howling, cats on the roof. I saw my late father but he was older and thinner, but after a minute I realized I had gotten off the bed and was looking in the mirror, such a cruel prank. I noticed a red dot on my wrist. Too bright to be melanoma but it had tentacles that attacked my neck. THEY ARE IN MY MOUTH! The Slide had arrived and all the explosives were in the garage. No way to get past the crows and ghosts. I saw the sun rise and then set; no sleep needed. I haven't done that since 200?. And now...
Epilogue-
The day (?) after had the anticipated body buzz (as promised). I felt old even though I've always been a Pro. I probably have bruises on my ass from sitting in bed for 14 hours. I messaged my Satanic percussionist to find out if the [redacted] was zapped with a chaser. It was not. I'm just getting old. It sucks. My criminal derelict of a tambo player then messaged with, "I hope it helped with your boredom," which actually is more profound than anything I wrote above; an act of kindness meant to kill me. Or, an act to kill me meant to be an act of kindness. Again, the perfect paradox. I think we know the true intention despite the satire above.
My advocate/roommate was disappointed with me and sarcastically said, "Why not write about it?" Both of these demons were right. It has been months since I've had anything to sink my teeth into but this one little blip, bloop, charged me up. I have always kept to myself but once this silly virus got out it framed my outlook a tad into me missing my friends. That is why E First's visit on Sunday was such a catharsis, despite her attempt on my life. You can miss some people on purpose, but when you Have to, then it starts to sting. I have never missed any friends on purpose, but am miserable now that I have to. In closing, thanks to all on the Honor Roll. And as always, I'll see you in hell. Selah!
From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro
The Honor Roll:
Elizabeth First
JAG
-jr
Vinnie Rawsonville
Melissa Misfit
Kentucky Pete
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2 comments:
Does that chick knows she's a scag-baron?
Have you read Milo's latest post on The Stools? Complete pandering and name dropping. I know you are going through legal stuff but please write something new.
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