- A Steampunk Tale of the Gay 90′s
- Confidence Game
- Made of Meat
- The Girl in the Picture
- A Regular Realization
- Hey @aplusk, you’ve been pnked! love, @Oprah.
- The Shrink
- Five Gallons of Love
- The Pope of Rock ‘n Roll: Divine or Diva?
- Walking Into The Wind
- Gorillas in the Midst
- True Tales of Laser Beams
- Get Well Quick!
- One Night at the Old Copper
It wasn’t everyday that you got to meet the Pope of Rock ‘n Roll.
Elvis Buddy Hendrix had been standing in line for hours, almost a full day, just for the opportunity to see the top of the pointed hat of the sainted Pontiff of Punk, Monsignor of Mosh, Bishop of Black Metal, etc. etc.
As the drum beat started, the crowd surged, a roaring scream of excited approval. Lighters were lit and held aloft, votives to the God of Rock’s earthly ambassador. The bass line started, and the screams grew louder. Women, and more than a few men swooned as the opening riff was played on the distorted guitar.
“Are you ready to rock?” echoed a voice from the massive P.A.
“Yeah!” screamed tens of thousands of die hard fans, Elvis among them.
“Then put your hands together for the one, the only… Pope Axl-Maynard Hetfield the II!”
Insanity. People were being crushed against anything that people could be crushed against. Lighters were dropped, and in a few instances where they were Zippo style lighters, small fires broke out on people, to be mostly put out by sweat and the loss of oxygen created by the teeming mass of fandom.
“Hawya duun?” the Pope said into his microphone. The screams must have pleased him, because he followed with an “Awright!” He started to sing, incoherently, the opening lines of the song that had been building for the past minute. Then he puked into the waiting, adoring fans being crushed against the stage. They recieved his whiskey laced vomit as if it were communion. He then opened the fly on his white jeans and blessed the crowd with his piss. He mumbled the half-remembered chorus into the microphone, was hit with an empty water bottle and a thong, and then stormed from the stage screaming obscenities.
As the riot began to be quelled by the teargas throwing members of the Swiss Guard, Elvis fought his way towards an exit, choking and coughing as he thought about how this would always be the greatest day of his life.
I get a fever, you get weird shit.