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humblemooncat · 6 months ago

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Crystal (pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo)

I couldn't help myself. xD

Time for all the homes I didn't get to yesterday! <3

@uldahstreetrat - Crystal, Malboro | Goblet W30, P7

This was such a cute and cozy little home!

I really love the layout you have going on with the diagonal walls! It adds an interesting look to it while making the space feel more open. I also love the personality that was put into every nook with all the knickknacks! You can really tell a lot about someone through those kinds of things!

Hope you don't mind Eros munching a bit of the bread you had out. At least it's not Estinien. :3c

Crystal, Malboro | Goblet W30, P3

I also took a visit to your husband's place, and goodness, that covered painting at the top of the stairway hit me like a bus.

That said, this home is so vibrantly colored and the decor is very nice! It has a lot of charm! I especially love the window upstairs, it was so well-made!

Also, I may have had a peek behind the bookshelves downstairs. I have questions, but I don't know if I want the answers. xD

@vasheden & @diamondangelkitten - Crystal, Malboro | Mist W5, P55

Ough, this place was SO cute! I absolutely adore what you did with the layout, both with the raised floor upstairs and the bottom of the stairway (I might just have to try that in Ki'to's next house layout!)

Overall, very pretty, pink, and floral! Definitely worth a visit! Honestly, I can't believe I'm the first to hit up the message book!

@valdiis - Crystal, Mateus | Shirogane W23, P30

I can certainly see why you all are so proud of the house! It's lovely!

From the beautiful yard to the stunning interior, it is a very cozy, relaxing little Shirogane getaway! I'm also in love with how the downstairs is set up! The pillar tables are such a fun and unique idea, and being able to enjoy an onsen and a show? This FC has it all. :3c

I also took a walk around all the rooms, and I must say, that FC has some amazing interior designers! It was such a treat to look through them all! <3

@archaiclumina - Crystal, Mateus | Lavender Beds W27, Lilly Hills, Wing 1, Apt 13

What a cute little apartment! I adore the overgrown look to it, there's so much life!

Fantastic choice of BGM as well, it really brought the whole space to life. As if you were wandering around the home of an alchemist, busy at work preparing herbs and other ingredients in the next room.

@entropytea - Crystal, Zalera | Shirogane W18, P23

Another beautiful interior by @entropytea. Your layouts are always absolutely stunning.

This one in particular was so tranquil, and I adored the entryway being turned into a nighttime patio! It was such a lovely use of the space, and made for a great spot to pose!

The rest of the house gave me the vibes of stepping into a ryokan or old Japanese home, and was so peaceful to walk through.

@archaiclumina - Crystal, Zalera | Goblet W28, P21

Eros, softly but with feeling: What the fuck? He never really got used to the Namazu, they still freak him out. xD

Hey!! Ward neighbors!! Ki'to's place is in the subdivision!

What a vibrant little library you have here! So very colorful and bright! There's a plethora of books, plenty of nooks to read them in, and it gives off a very well-traveled vibe with all the different cultures being mashed up!

Also, I would have left a like in the message book, but I'm not breaking the 69. xD

Crystal, Zalera | Goblet W28, Sultana's Breath Wing 1, Apt 8

This apartment was stunning! Cyrenne is a classy lady indeed to be living in such a place!

The low lighting and BGM combo really give it a classy, enchanting feel. I adore how you decorated the space, down to the board over the tub with a wine glass and book. She sure knows how to enjoy her baths!

The balcony area at the back was also an instant fave. Very cleverly done!

Crystal, Zalera | Mist W5, Topmast Wing 2, Apt 21

And, last but certainly not least, the last of the apartments!

This was such a curious workshop! Needless to say, all the allagan nodes had Eros intrigued after Raha's many rambles.

It's very well-decorated, and has a lot of personality! You can certainly tell the owner has an interest in allagan technology! I wonder what all the nodes are programmed for!

You never disappoint, Crystal, and I love you for it. I was able to go through some stunning homes today!

Also, in case anyone might be wondering 'Orion, why do you only take one picture at obscure angles in each place?' I do so so that you have a reason to come visit yourself! The picture and description are supposed to give you but a taste of what each house is like. It's up to you to come see the rest for yourself!

And now, with Crystal done, I'm off to Primal!

... after dinner.

Crystal (pt. 1)

Sit back and kick your feet up a while, we have a lot of places to go through!

So much so, this will need a reblog with a part 2!

@entropytea - Crystal, Balmung | Mist W13, P42

This house's layout was stunning! Despite it being a small, the use of lofts and partitions made the space seem so much larger!

Not to mention, it's all very beautifully furnished! It looked like I was walking into a designer home! Also, very big fan of the gazebo leading into the house. What a clever use of it!

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Crystal, Balmung | Goblet W9, Sultana's Breath Wing 1 Apt 39

The apartment was similarly gorgeous. The layout is beyond amazing, and really makes you feel like you're stepping into some sort of woodland hut that maybe you should not have. Cozy, but a little ominous at the same time!

@cadrenebula - Crystal, Balmung | Goblet W21, P60

He was trying to blend in with the flowers. Silly boy.

What a lovely FC hall! Very spacious, but at the same time very cozy!

I love all the facilities and how thoughtfully they cater to the company's residents. Even down to the little dressing room leading to the stage downstairs. Very cute.

I also had a toot around the rooms that were open, and I must say, there are a lot of pretty, creative rooms in there! Each one had its own distinct personality, and I loved looking through them all. <3

@alannah-corvaine - Crystal, Balmung | Mist W17, P18

All I have to say is wow

The interior of this house is so well-done, every nook and cranny is filled with decor that really brings the whole thing together! Along with the BGM, you'd think you were walking into an Ishgardian manor, not a seaside cottage!

Definitely worth a look if you're in the area! <3

@wayward-hatchling - Crystal, Coeurl | Goblet W23, P13

I was NOT expecting to be invited to an in-game pizzeria of all things! That said, it was VERY cute!!

It really does give off hometown pizzeria vibes, from the brick interior to the wrought iron-backed chairs. It's extremely charming, and I will definitely be coming back sometime.

But before I left, I had to give my husbuns a little dinner date. <3

HIGHLY recommend everyone to visit at some point! It's a very fun little place! And it even has an arcade!

Just mind the mascots. We've seen too many horror games to trust them...

@disaster-husbun - Crystal, Goblin | Empyreum W26, P42

First off, hello hello! Nice to see you as I rolled through! <3

You made such good use of the space and slots provided in a large! It's hard to do effectively without blocking off a good chunk of it, but it looks very nice! Spacious, but in a cozy way!

I loved how you decorated each space inside, though the warm, cozy study was my favorite.

My second favorite though, was the basement. The floral walls leading to the tables was very nice, and the walls would be a beautiful space to gpose if you need a patterned backdrop.

Overall, very beautiful home! I would highly recommend stopping in if you're in the area!

@cadrenebula - Crystal, Goblin | Empyreum W25, P59

Another cute FC hall!

I love the look of the cafe downstairs! It's bright and open while still feeling communal and cozy. I could see myself whiling away the time with a good book and a cup of tea down there.

Very clever with the bookshelf upstairs btw! It's a nice way to make the place cohesive while still giving everyone a little hideaway to their rooms!

Speaking of; both of the rooms are nice! The second room having only the bath is amusing, but I also totally get it. Sometimes you just need a hot bath and no thoughts. xD

I only had time to get to so many today, unfortunately, but I plan on getting the rest of Crystal and Primal done tomorrow!

Thank you all for allowing me into your beautiful homes so far! I can't wait to visit the rest!

#Mooncat's Housing Crawl #Crystal DC #Part 2!#Electric Boogaloo #I'm always floored by the amount of creativity that goes into these #It's always a treat to do these walkthroughs!#<3

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.18 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has already dealt with the local sheriff about his adventures in the local woods. Seems like Edge might have a thing or three to say.

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Read ‘Electric Boogaloo’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was funny how some things become automatic. Stretch was still thinking about Buford when Edge came into the store not long after the sheriff left. Still thinking about those strange white eyes of his, wondering at exactly how much he could see. How much, how far, how deep did it go. Stretch knew a little something himself about seeing a bit too much.

Still, habits were habits. Even though his mind wasn’t necessarily working in the here and now, Stretch automatically stood up straight and greeted Edge when he came in, customer service skills were a heck of a learned trait, even if he was the only one who worked here that had them.

“morning, hey, what’s up? what do you—" need, he didn’t get to say. He barely had time to notice that Edge didn’t look like his normal gorgeous self, hips notwithstanding. Sure, he was wearing his normal motorhuckle gear and he was walking like he was on his way to kill Captain America. But he looked pale, his skull chalk-white and stark, his eye lights faded to a shade closer to dull pink.

That wasn’t what cut off his ‘can i help you’ spiel. Nope, that was Edge stalking right over to the counter and around it into the register area. Stretch found himself roughly pulled into Edge’s arms and held in a painfully tight hug that nearly threatened to crack ribs.

Okay? This was new but fuck it if Stretch wasn’t going to go for it. He wrapped both arms around Edge and squeezed back, relished the feel of that long, lean body against his own, even buffered under a layer of leather. “um. hi?”

Edge said nothing, only held on, with all ten fingers digging in through the back of Stretch’s t-shirt and damned if he was gonna try fight his way loose. Was it his imagination or was Edge shaking a little? Or maybe that was the earth moving under his feet because Edge smelled so good, no bone cologne could compare. Like spice and woodsmoke, like the heavenly pies he made for Mama’s.

Nothing to be done for it, might as well dive into the deep end and see if he could drown. Stretch closed his sockets and basked in it, reveled in it. Maybe this was some weird frosting on top of an already bizarre cake but Stretch really wanted his slice.

After a minute, Edge was showing no signs of letting up and much as Stretch would’ve been perfectly fine standing like this all day, probably he should say something. It’d be pretty hard to run register if he was stuck to Edge like a conjoined twin and considering that they were sort of the same person, maybe better not to risk it.

It was just a damn shame that Stretch was so shitty at digging beneath the layers of other people’s traumas. Hell, he could barely take a shovel to his own.

He managed to work up enough air to wheeze out, “is…something wrong?” A horrible thought occurred. What if he wasn’t the only person the lady ghoul went to visit last night? Maybe she took the nickel tour of the woods, maybe Buford’s all-seeing eye blinked and missed something. “is frisk okay?”

“Yes,” Edge choked out. His voice was muffled into Stretch’s shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Stretch shifted in his arms and only managed about an inch in any direction. “don’t take this the wrong way, but as fine as this feels, you don’t seem fine.”

That didn’t get any reply. Instead, Edge loosened his grip just enough to press his face into the hollow of Stretch’s collarbone where he inhaled deeply, mouth opened as if he wanted to taste whatever scent gathered there, get the whole experience.

Um. Holy shit. Okay, well, that was a fetish Stretch never knew he had, and if he wasn’t pinned like a sardine in Edge’s kung-fu grip, he might’ve honest to angel flailed at the feel of damp, hot breath against his clavicles. Every time Edge decided to go through his scratch ‘n sniff routine, it sent willie wonkers tingling right up his spine and right down his pants. All he could do was grit his teeth and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself any more than the usual.

Finally, all too soon, Edge drew away. He took two steps back, putting some distance between them. He seemed almost embarrassed now and Stretch could only reluctantly let him go.

He was really, really grateful for his work apron right about now; good for catching dust and gook, with a side bonus of hiding inconvenient boners. Hopefully it wasn’t the not-at-all-a-pencil-in-his-pocket that chased Edge away. “not that i mind, like, really not, but you think you could let me in on what that was all about?”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, stiffly. He crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Stretch.

“uh, nope,” Stretch shook his head, “no apologies, hugs are free real estate.” He’d been this close to Edge before a couple of times but always before there had been distractions. Now looking at him was the distraction and Stretch let his gaze linger on the razer-sharp lines of his cheekbones, the tight narrowing of his eye sockets. The crack that ran through his left socket was obviously old, the edges worn relatively smooth, smoother than their owner.

Edge still didn’t look at him, not directly, anyway. A flick of his eye lights towards Stretch, then back away as he said, tightly. “We came very close to losing you last night. It was…upsetting.”

Oh.

Well, good news traveled fast, didn’t it, basically at the speed of light around these parts. He wondered glumly if Red was in his apartment busily composing a profanity-laden symphony titled ‘I Told You So.’

“How did you know?” Stretch sighed out. Maybe Frisk was tuned in to the local airwaves or Edgar Allen might branch out into branches instead of corn gossip.

“Buford,” Edge admitted. “He is the town constable, he looks after the town. Literally, in his case.”

Also had a big mouth, seemed like. “yeah, uh, he showed me his eyes.”

“Did he?” Edge seemed surprised, then pleased. “He usually wears his sunglasses. He rarely takes them off when he’s on duty because outsiders tend to find his eyes unsettling. But yes, it’s his duty to watch out for problems and he does it well.”

Stretch nodded slowly, “must be tough on him sometimes, seeing all that.” He had a little personal experience in that.

“Buford does his duty,” Edge said with a certain finality. Welp, looked like that topic was done and Stretch was fine with that since Edge was starting to look a little calmer. His eye lights weren’t on Stretch’s but lower, focused more on the mouth region and when Stretch flicked his tongue across his teeth nervously, those crimson lights went heavy and dark.

To his disappointment, Edge didn’t go for Ginormous Hug 2: Electric Boogaloo. Instead, he reeled back, shaking himself visibly and turning towards the door. “Well. I only wanted to check in on you, I should be going.”

“wait!” Stretch blurted and Edge hesitated, raising one browbone. “don’t go, not yet.”

He waved a hand in offering at the stool behind the counter and after a moment of hesitation, Edge stepped around the dog and took it. Mutt never stirred, burrowed down in the blanket Red had laid down for him, snoring away. Good thing they hadn’t been in the market for a guard dog.

Stretch hopped up on the counter to sit, (hey, his butt was cleaner than the whole store had been when he first got here) and wondered what the hell to do now. He’d wanted Edge to stay and now he didn’t know what to talk about. Every other chat they’d had was about some kind of Backwater weirdness, the peanut butter and pickle sandwich version of a conversation. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to have a white bread and butter chat.

Edge seemed to agree. He swiped a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter and checked the results, finding it to be relatively dust-free. “The store is looking much better since my brother hired you on.”

“yeah,” Stretch latched on to that topic gratefully, it was marginally better than bringing up the weather. “try to keep up on it. he’s paying me well enough for it, plus room and board, figured i can do my mr clean impression.” He gave the top of his skull a pat. “i’ve already got the bald part down.”

Edge made a rough, scoffing sound and even that was somehow delicious in that voice of his. “I suspect most of what fills up your board comes from my kitchen.”

Stretch suspected the same but leapt to his landlord’s defense, anyway, he owned Red that much and more. “hey, red is a damn fine microwave wrangler when he puts his mind to it.” Okay, so that was less of a leap than a trip and miss, but he’d tried. Maybe better to steer the topic boat out of the rapids and into calmer water. “my bro likes to cook, too.”

“Is he very good?” Edge leaned forward curiously, propping his chin up on a hand.

Woah, wait, abandon ship, that was not calmer waters, that was a storm a’brewing, a freaking typhoon. “good is relative,” Stretch said stoutly.

“Ah,” One corner of Edge’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Rest assured, I would never force you to disparage your brother’s cooking. If it’s any comfort, my recipes were somewhat unique when we first came here as well. Like the garden, it took some time for my skills to come into bloom.”

“seriously?” There was a little too much naked relief in that one word but fuck it, Blue wasn’t here to hear it, “so how many years until he’s less ‘nailed it’ and more ‘chef’s table’?”

That half-smile widened. “Time is also relative, as are brothers. How is your brother, I’m assuming he’s still back in Ebott. Have you spoken to him since you came here?”

Welp, he’d avoided the storm only to end up in shark-infested waters, wasn’t that just his luck, “sort of,” Stretch hedged.

Edge’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’ as he successfully decoded that message. “You texted him. Well, that’s better than leaving him completely in the dark.”

“i think he’s doing okay. he was even before i left.” He really hoped so, but then, Blue settled in easily enough from the start. From the Human’s perspective, his bro looked a little like he’d stepped out of some kind of cartoon. He was small and adorable, his starry eye lights in his huge sockets were as cute as if Disney blessed him from beyond the grave. Stretch didn’t begrudge his brother for that, ‘course he didn’t, but that didn’t make his own experiences easy cheesy. “frisk was pretty right about ebott. when it comes to monsters, it sure isn’t backwater.”

“I’m sorry.” Said with enough quiet sincerity to make Stretch shift uncomfortably.

He shrugged weakly. “eh, not your fault.”

“No, but I can still let you share your pains.” Edge reached up and took his hand. He rubbed a scarred thumb gently over his knuckles and Stretch caught his breath. “You know, I used to dream about coming to the surface. Back in my world, in the Underground. Frisk told you that it was a place of LV, not love. My brother and I spent much of our time there simply struggling to survive.” The reminiscence in Edge’s voice held no hint of fondness, but there was a certain faint wistfulness. “I had such grand dreams of what the surface world would be like back then. Hope was difficult to come by in my universe, I never truly believed a human would come and when they did, well.” Edge chuckled and there was the fondness missing from before. “Frisk was not at all what I imagined.”

“did the surface world live up to your dreams?” Stretch asked, curiously. His own dreams of the Aboveground were shaken to their foundations barely an hour into the sunlight, when the first Humans to arrive greeted them not with welcome, but with automatic rifles.

“In some ways,” Edge said. “Mostly, it’s very different from what I imagine. But like Frisk, not necessarily in a bad way.”

“ebott is sure fucking different then i imagined,” Stretch only realized how hard he was squeezing Edge’s hand when both of their joints popped. He loosened his grip, then pulled away entirely, picking up the pen from the counter to fiddle with; at least if he broke that, he’d be the only one stained. “doesn’t matter, anyway. i’m not there right now, am i.”

“Indeed not. You’re here, and Backwater is probably as different from Ebott as it is the Underground.” Edge stood in a jangling, creaking rhapsody of leather and buckles. “On that note, I do need to get going.”

Stretch stood too, hopping down from the counter. Much as he’d like Edge to stay, he did have some work to get done and who knew what Edge needed to get back to. “thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course.” Too fast for Stretch to do more than blink, Edge leaned in and Stretch stood frozen as he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, the delicate scrape of his teeth almost ticklish against sensitive bone. He pulled back before Stretch managed to gather up all his scattered wits, and his smile was the soft, real one as he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“soon,” Stretch parroted dumbly. He stood there like an idiot and watched Edge leave, only coming back to himself at the jangle of the bell over the door. Then he cursed himself, roundly and in every language he knew, including modified flamespeak. Smooth moves, there, Marvin Gaye, couldn’t even turn your head for a real kiss? Just stood there with crotch plug store book and didn’t even try to kick it up a notch? But he’d gotten one hell of a hug and a hand fondle, that was worth nearly getting eaten by Lady Cthulhu out there.

Well, almost.

“mind not getting your sop all over my counter?”

Stretch whirled around, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, to see Red standing in the hallway entrance. He was leaning heavily on his cane with a brutally unimpressed look on his face.

Fuck.

“i’m sorry—” Stretch began and faltered, unsure of what to say. He’d tried to listen to Red, he really had. He’d warned Stretch against starting anything with his bro from the beginning, offered plenty of warnings against rebound fucks and people getting hurt, and Stretch had tried. Except he hadn’t, had he, not really, and he could try to blame Edge’s hips and that gorgeous voice all he wanted; in the end, it was his fault, just like everything else. He hadn’t really been fighting that hard, why would he, it wasn’t like he wanted to win.

Red only sighed heavily and waved him off. “ain’t nothing to be sorry for. toldja before, i ain’t worried about my bro. you’re the one keepin’ me awake at night.”

“speaking of worrying,” Stretch took a deep breath before plunging forward, away from the sharks and heading into the shallows where the piranhas swam. “look, before anyone else decides to spill the beans, i need to tell you something.”

Red held up a hand and Stretch fell silent. “lemme get my coffee first.”

Coffee sounded better than it had any right to and, in his chest, Stretch’s soul gave an uncomfortable lurch like it could hop out and get a cup of its own. Hopefully, he asked, “can i get some?”

“yeah, sure,” Red turned back towards the apartment and tossed back over his shoulder, “whatcha want in it?”

“honey?” May as well dream big.

“yeah, darlin’?”

What? ”No!” Stretch blurted. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“yeah, yeah,” Red snickered. “i gotcha, brat.”

It was both entirely too long and much too quickly that Red made his way back with two heavy white mugs that looked as if they’d been stolen from Mama’s diner. He handed one to Stretch and settled in to lean against the counter, sipping from his own. “so, this about why you and my bro were cozying up behind the counter?”

“uh, sort of,” Stretch hedged. He stalled by taking a sip of his coffee, glorying in the thick, over-sweetened brew. “he came by because buford got a hold of him.”

Red lurched upright as if someone goosed him right on his tailbone. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand and he hissed, shaking his wet, stinging fingers as he demanded, “he did what now? what the fuck happened?”

“it’s not that bad.”

It was a weak attempt at best, not that it mattered. Red didn’t fall for it in the slightest. He didn’t move, there was no noticeable change in his breathing or posture, but the sardonic humor that seemed to cling to Red like another shirt evaporated entirely and left behind nothing but cold sincerity. “buford don’t exactly text, he don’t get ahold of anyone unless—” Red stopped and gave Stretch a coolly assessing glance that he squirmed beneath. Quietly, he said, “kid, what did you do?”

“i didn’t do it!” Stretch blurted and no amount of defending himself to his own brother or even the Ebott police could have prepared him for this. “the dog ran off, but i didn’t go into the woods! not until—there was this…this thing!” Stretch gestured wildly, trying ineffectively to convey with skinny bone hands the shadowy, awful creature that lured him into the dark last night. He couldn’t hold back a shudder of revulsion, simply thinking about it was filling him with a renewed sense of horror. “it looked like a woman and then it didn’t, she was singing, she was doing something, and i couldn’t stop myself, i couldn’t even think!”

He stopped, panting, and Red said nothing. He only stood there statue-still and Stretch would have given about anything for the door to open, the bell to jangle as someone looking for a fresh supply of ass wipers broke that awful silence.

Desperately, Stretch pressed on, letting out a nervous laugh. “anyway, i’m okay. she didn’t touch me or bite me or anything. i got out okay.” He didn’t mention the bone dragon, wasn’t even sure why, but Red was still frozen and silent over hearing about one terrifying encounter, maybe better not to mention two.

“red?” Stretch tried, hating how his voice sounded so small and forlorn. In a dismal corner of his mind, he was already mentally packing his bags. He couldn’t go back to Ebott, not now, not yet, but where else could he go, what other job could he possibly find? Maybe a waiter at Mama’s or maybe the thrift shop needed a helping hand. He didn’t know. The little money he had wouldn’t last long and definitely not in a bigger city. He didn’t really have any options, no choices at all.

He jerked back as Red suddenly jolted into movement, limping around the counter without his cane. He staggered almost drunkenly and then swung around to violently ram his fist into the first rack of the shelves. The wooden frame rocked and groaned, scattering boxes and cans to the floor on either side. A small bag of cornmeal fell and burst open, scattering dusty yellow across the floorboards.

“i…i’ll just…” Stretch couldn’t say go, he couldn’t, saying it would make this real, and he couldn’t let it be real. He took a step towards the hallway, tasting heavy tears on the back of his tongue.

Red’s voice stopped him, “kid.”

Stretch stood there and watched Red wrap both arms around himself. The fingers of one hand were streaked with marrow, he’d probably cracked his phalanges, but Red only shuddered faintly, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a shaky rattle as he said, “if i’d’ve known she was awake, i woulda warned ya.”

Oh.

Oh, that made a terrible amount of sense and it didn’t make Stretch feel one fucking bit better to realize that Red wasn’t mad at him.

“it’s fine, red,” Stretch said, gently. It was hard to bank his own fears, but he managed, “it’s not your fault. i’m okay.”

Red heaved out a hitching little sigh and Stretch didn’t need Buford’s powers or his own magic to see that Red didn’t believe that, not even a little.

“okay,” he muttered under his breath, low and indistinct, “okay, okay.” Then louder, “okay, kid, get on out of here.”

“you’re firing me?” Stretch blurted, horrified. He’d begun to believe it was all right, more fool he, hadn’t he had the rug ripped out from under him enough times by now, when would he ever learn?

“what?” Red said, aghast. “fuck no! take a little time off, is all, after a shitty night like that, you need it. go see a movie, ‘wizard of oz’ ’s playin’, think it’ll be right up your alley.”

Relief left him weak, but he made no move towards the door. “but. your hand?”

“what about my hand?” Red raised his browbones and his hand at once and Stretch stared at the clean, pristine bones in confusion, what the fuck, he was sure he’d seen—

“okay, but,” Stretch still didn’t want to leave, some part of him vaguely convinced that if he left he wouldn’t be able to come back, like this shabby little store was some kind of fae place. “here, let me clean up.”

“i can fucking clean,” Red said impatiently. “been doing it since long before you got here.” He hooked his perfectly unbroken thumb at the door, “now, git! scoot!”

It seemed better not to comment on Red’s cleaning skills. Stretch hung up his apron and obediently scooted while Red limped over to the broom.

Outside, the temperature was just above a swelter. Stretch headed towards the theater even as the kids pulled up by the shop and dropped their bikes to head in, about five minutes too late.

Red had the right idea, he decided tiredly. A movie sounded like a good idea right about now. If, that was, he could stay awake through the opening credits.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

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creativenicocorner · 5 years ago

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“Uh-oh” - a CH11 Sneak Peek

Good grief this chapter so far has turned into such a test to see if I can balance humor and angst haha I’m enjoying the challenge!

Sometimes I do worry if I’m underlining certain things or repeating myself too much. But honestly, I’m tired of self judging and second guessing myself too much can be inhibiting. I want to get this show on the roooaaad

Anyways...

Jim’s sleep deprived brain felt like it was overheating trying to keep up with his own emotions. And with every blink, his eyes burned a little more.

“Do you need help, Jim?” went Strickler in such a helpful tone it made Jim’s skin crawl. The audacity to try and be nice after everything that’s happened. “Are you alrig-”

“No. I mean, yes.” strained Jim, “Let’s…let’s just eat. Okay?”

“Indeed.” chirped the changeling, “Oh, hang on. Napkins.”

And to Jim’s absolute horror, he watched as Strickler easily navigated his kitchen space. Heading directly to where the napkins were kept without so much as a misstep.

“There we are.” went Strickler with valorous cheer. “Ready to tuck in.”

“Yeah.” said Jim, placing the plates. Feeling as though he were experiencing what was happening in his kitchen distantly, through a telescope.

Strickler was the first to start eating. It ought to have taken the changeling sooner to notice that the air had changed as quickly as an impatient kid trying to draw with an etch -a - sketch.

The biggest clue something was indeed off, was Jim not eating. But rather staring at him.

The changeling looked at his sandwich then Jim’s untouched sandwich. And, as a knee jerk reaction, ran through their entire discussion in the kitchen. Strickler’s chewing slowed to a stop. While an entire moment to moment breakdown, contemplating when, if ever, Jim might have slipped something into his food.

Yet in Strickler’s heart of hearts, the changeling knew Jim had done nothing to tamper with the food. With an internal curse to have ever doubted Jim, Strickler swallowed the rest of his bite.

“Jim? Your sandwich will get cold.”

“It’s okay.”

Strickler’s mouth twitched from side to side, as though he were balancing his pipe on his lip, or wiggling a mustache that wasn’t there. The changeling took another bite of his sandwich. Contemplating as he tasted the oil soaked bread and cheese, the juice of the tomato and the freshness of basil leaves balanced with the crunch of various amounts of peppercorn.

To no one’s surprise, it was a damn good sandwich.

It inspired the changeling to ask, in hopes of continued amicable conversation, “Has, ah, Blinky ever tasted your cooking?”

“Hu?”

“Blinky, while he was waltzing about as a human. Did he ever get the chance to taste your cooking?”

“Um…no…” Jim’s brows furrowed in realization, “No, I guess not.” the teen’s eyes slightly bulged as another realization came to Jim. Blinky who was more deserving to taste his food never did get the chance to eat it.

Jim felt a want to throw something. But only pursed his lips.

Imagine a kettle. An emotional kettle, where with every attempt at kindness, only fueled the burner under the kettle all the more. And this kettle. This Jim Lake shaped kettle, was very ready to boil. Especially after realizing he was on the stove top this whole time.

“Oh that’s a criminal shame.” said Strickler sincerely. Though it could easily be taken as insincere with the changeling’s natural dry tone.

“Yeah…criminal.”

“Well if it happened once, who knows. Perhaps it can happen again. Blinky and Humanity Round Two Electric Boogaloo.” snorted Strickler with a hopeful attempt at a contagious laugh.

Jim didn’t laugh.

A bit of mozzarella slid out of Strickler’s sandwich. Landing as sadly as his attempt at good humor.

“Yes well…” Strickler cleared his throat, and fumbled to put the mozzarella back in the sandwich. “I’ll, ah, right. When this whole thing is over I’ll leave a note for Merideth- have you had the chance to meet her? Erm, no suppose not. She’s a very competent councilor.” Strickler paused, glancing at Jim.

But Jim remained as stoic as a drowsy cow. A cow left in a field goggling and wondering why no one is taking care of the barn that’s on fire.

Strickler continued, “No matter, I’ll leave her a note to start rounding up a few potential colleges that might interest you. With strong leanings towards the culinary of course.”

“Ah-huh.”

“You know,” went Strickler with awkwardly forced lightness. Hopeful Jim will start responding again. “you could end up hosting a dinner party for graduation - or, erm, some sort of celebration. You’d need help depending on how many courses and portions. Toby could be a great candidate, or the ever competent Claire. Perhaps not your mother, as much as I care about her she is a bit of a disaster in the kitchen.

“Although I will trust her when it comes to whip cream- do you remember the pie she made?” Strickler snorted with a laugh, hitting the table lightly like an old chum. “While we [snort] fought? Very good form by the way. How Barbara didn’t notice is beyond me. The focus on that woman when she sets out to do something, astounding. Must help in the operating room. I’d say theater but those are slowly not being used as much.”

The more Strickler talked with obvious fondness the more Jim’s face soured like spoiled milk. Until finally Jim’s stomach curdled.

It was the unintended mention of his mother that was the last straw for the frustrated sleep deprived teen. That emotional kettle was whistling more than ever now.

Even if Strickler didn’t mean anything malicious by it - it stung - it stung like Strickler’s presence stung. Like a constant sharp bitter wind. A reminder.

A reminder of how much Jim used to look up to him. A reminder of how foolish he felt to have ever looked up to him. A reminder of another betrayal by a paternal father figure.

And Jim, angry, tired, and young, wanted Strickler to feel a sting. If it couldn’t be physical what remained was the emotional - so Jim went for the only other thing (aside from his mother) that Jim knew Strickler felt strongly about.

And it wasn’t Napoleon short jokes.

“You know.” smiled Jim with a touch of acidic frost in his blue eyes, “I did a bit of digging in Blinky’s library about Shigir.”

“Did you now?” perked up Strickler, delighted.

“Yeah, came up while we were looking for more info on the Triumbric stones.”

“I’m surprised there was anything written at all! That’s incredibly rare, though not impossible. How curious.”

Jim made a non committal sound. He looked away from Strickler’s smiling face “Yeeaah, we found a nursery rhyme and a story to boot. KnotEnrique confirmed it.”

Strickler should have felt something was amiss in these statements. For one, troll knowledge on Shigir was bound to be contorted. And secondly, it was known KnotEnrique knew little of Shigir.

Yet in some recessive instinct, Strickler wanted to believe that the ever studious Blinky, brother of Dictatious, would hold a knowledgeable variety in his library. And that Jim willingly read it. So the changeling was gleeful to accept such a possibility at face value. Hopeful even.

And with that Strickler leaned forward. Hands itching, eager to hear more. “Did you bring it with you?”

“No…no, it’s still saved in Blinky’s library. Didn’t want to risk it falling out of my bag.”

“Ah. Wise move. Why the concept of zipping up your bags escapes you and your friends is beyond me.”

“-So, Shigir-” Jim said hurriedly, feeling a tangent about to happen. Not wanting to loose his nerve in dealing an emotional blow.

“Yes! Who wrote it? When was it written? Why would trolls- well, did you read the preface? Was there one?”

“Y-yeah I…don’t remember all that…but the story was…” Jim looked at his former teacher. Then the napkin, then the lack of the Inferna Copula worn on his hands, and finally that smarmy cheerful face he once looked up to so much. “..A little out of left field..” Anger prickled at the tired teen’s eyes. And Jim pushed his plate away to also lean forward, mirroring Strickler “It went a little something like this…”

There is a level of anxiety that surfaces when making something up on the spot. Sometimes (although not limited to) it’s a bit like ripping off a band-aid. The lie is told, short and sweet and to the point. And the world awkwardly continues to spin with a pin pricked after thought of ‘did I get away with it?’. But that’s quickly forgotten.

Other times it’s like thawing out a frozen meal. Slow, potentially painful, and with the curious feeling the dead absent eyes of the defrosting fish might not be as absent as you’d like to imagine.

And then there are times it feels like the water level in a video game.

The bets are open as to what Jim is about to experience.

“Once upon a time” started Jim, feeling brave in his anger. As what good story didn’t start with such famous four words? “In the land of…Lah, there’s a troll about to be duped.

“His name was Ji- Jiumb, and all he wanted was some peace for his family and friends.

“One of those friends was a person he really looked up to. And this, obviously, was Shigir.

“Now Shigir was a cool dude, said some - uh, cool stuff. Probably knew how to kick-flip at some point.”

I’m sure this ends well.

Lemony Snicket Voice: A well is a man made pool of water where one can retrieve water. In this case however, the water is pretty salty.

#A rather ominous sneak peek today folks #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Terpsichore #Jim Lake #Jim Lake Jr #Stricklander #Knife Family #Walter Strickler #Shigir Ideale #Oh ch11 ch11 #might delete later

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current-mcr-news · 6 years ago

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Casual Interactions #2: Full Transcription

Frank: I don't know if this is true but like, usual beverages, I'm fine with. If I drink red bull, even just a can of it, I have to urinate way more until I've dispersed the can.

John: It's like the same color in, same color out.

F: Well yeah, but also it's just like fishes and loaves. Like, I drink one can and I have liters of piss. Like, what the fuck?! How's that possible?

J: It really does all come back to you just really wanting to be an altar boy, doesn't it?

F: I guess, yeah. I feel like a lot of my personality and my demeanor is based on guilt that I received from the Catholic church as a young child.

J: So, welcome to episode number 2 of the Casual Interactions podcast. I'm John "Hambone" McGuire and joined with me as always is Frank Iero and Shaun Simon. How are you guys doing today?

Shaun: Hey, man.

F: Feeling good. Feeling handsome today.

S: Feeling handsome.

J: It never stops. You've always been handsome.

F: Aww! You son of a bitch!

J: Love you. Always have! So, we're going to continue with our origin story. So, this is Origin Story Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

F: Mhm!

J: It's like The Exorcist with more breakdancing and jazz hands! So last episode we talked about starting the band up, how the band started up. We talked a little bit about touring. Why don't we bring it back to that. Let's talk about when we started, we had a rehearsal space.

F: Yes! Yes, a lockout, if you will.

J: It was a lockout.

F: I feel like when we first started playing together, it was my mother's basement.

J: Right. Now, his mom's basement was awesome and it was wall to wall carpet. When you hear "wall to wall carpet," you think, "Oh, it just goes from wall to wall with no hardwood floor space." No, there was actually carpet on the wall and ceiling.

F: Ceiling to wall, to ceiling to wall, to carpet, to floor, to door.

J: It was like being in a cube of shag carpet.

F: Ugh! Yeah, that didn't help at all.

J: Didn't soundproof at all!

F: It didn't soundproof anything, it didn't make you feel warm. It was just- you didn't wanna touch anything, it was just gross.

J: Yeah, you definitely didn't wanna walk around barefoot in there.

F: No! Ultimately, it was a basement.

J: It was.

F: You know? A moist, shag basement.

J: Right.

F: Yeah.

J: And you were living down there for a little bit. Like, that was your bedroom.

F: I was! Yes! I ended up getting allocated to the basement.

J: Yeah.

F: It was good though. It provided a separate living space and exit, and a place for me to smoke cigarettes in my room. That was pretty excellent, I loved that.

J: Yeah. Everyone's like, "Oh man, what would it be like to be a teenager, but a cool basement apartment?" It was never cool down there.

F: No!

J: It was just sticky. It was always sticky.

F: Yeah! Yep, balmy, I think was the word! It was pretty balmy.

J: And there was 5 of us in there at one point, with all our gear. So you had your bed in the corner, and you had all the musical instruments.

F: Yes.

J: Now when we were in high school, my bedroom was the band's rehearsal space.

F: That's right, that was the first one! Oh my god, yeah! Do you remember why we had to stop there?

J: Why did we have to stop?

F: Because your mom would come in and yell at us for not wearing ear plugs.

J: Yeah.

F: But you had like a full PA, it was crazy!

S: In your bedroom at your house in Clifton?

F: Yes!

J: My bedroom in my house in Clifton, my childhood home that I grew up in, my bedroom was over the garage. And I pushed all the furniture over to like, one wall, and on my dresser I stacked PA speakers and the PA. I had my bed kind of right by the door because it was the only safe way to get in and out of the room, because on the other side of the bed was a drum kit. There was a half stack, there was a bass amp.

S: Oh my god!

F: It was like an episode of Hoarders.

J: It was like an episode of Hoarders!

F: Like, "Well, I sleep on top of the PA!"

J: Yeah, it was dangerous. I mean, I literally- I'd literally have to like, ninja roll out of my bed to the right to make it out the door to go to the bathroom at night.

F: Also, I don't feel like anybody put their shit away.

J: No.

F: Like, it was just cables and pedals everywhere.

J: I had to get a tetanus shot once because someone left like, their leftover guitar string snippings when they changed their strings.

S: Oh, man.

J: It was cool though because my mother is a wonderful woman.

F: No, she's fantastic.

J: One special lady in her age bracket. And she was so concerned that we were gonna go deaf. Like, every time we'd play, she'd come in and she'd give us this impassioned plea to wear ear plugs. Meanwhile, my dad loved having the band at the house. He loved that there was music. My dad raised me with music, he loves music. So every time my mom would be up there like, kind of tearfully imploring us to put ear plugs in, my dad would be out on the grill and he'd be grilling us like- this is before you became vegetarian- he'd be making like, hot dogs and hamburgers. So we were always a very well fed band.

F: Oh, yes! Yes.

J: And then he would drive us to the gigs in his pickup truck. Thank god it never rained during any of those shows, but yeah. He put a tarp over our gear, drove us down to Newark, and we played those like, Spanish halls. It was a lot of fun.

F: That was fun.

J: Eventually, my mom wanted us to not play in the house because she's like, "If you're not gonna wear ear plugs, you can't practice here anymore!" So we went to Frank's house.

F: Ultimatum.

J: She did give us an ultimatum.

F: My mom didn't give a shit! But yeah, and again though, well fed. I think we would practice on Wednesdays and there was a pizza place nearby that had like, a special.

J: Or your mom would make lasagna.

F: Oh boy!

J: Yeah. We were such a chubby little band. Little stick arms and little stick legs, but man, we were loaded to the gills with lasagna and like, homemade garlic bread at all times.

F: Yes, at all times.

J: So there was 5 of us in the basement. It was myself, Shaun, Frank, our friend Neil, our friend Tim, and all our gear, and Frank's bed just jammed into the corner.

F: There ya go.

J: And we practiced for 8, 10 hours a day sometimes.

F: Yeah!

J: Before we eventually got the studio. We'd only-

F: It's weird that we didn't get better! I mean like, we got good but we didn't get real good. We just got good and fat.

J: Yeah, we got good and fat. What also didn't help though, in the summer it would get so hot we'd need to cool the room down a little bit, so we would always go to IHOP.

S: I was gonna say, yeah, we went to IHOP before practice.

J: Because it was inexpensive, and we would like, feast. So we'd get loaded upstairs on lasagna, we'd get loaded at IHOP on pancakes, and we came back and, yeah, it was- we were really well fed.

S: Passed out.

F: These were the days though, where you could go to a diner like, after practice. Go to a diner, order one cup of coffee, drink it all night and smoke cigarettes at the table like, for hours and hours!

J: Absolutely.

F: It was like an episode of like, Larry King or something. Just fucking smoking, drinking coffee for hours, and it would cost you $2.25.

J: Tops! Because it was like a buck for the coffee, and you always tip the waitress! Gotta tip the waitress! And let's not bear the lead here, you could still smoke indoors everywhere!

F: Exactly!

J: Everywhere! Do you know the last night- the last time that Pencey Prep played CBGB's was the night that they banned smoking in New York City?

F: No shit.

J: Yeah, so we-

S: Really? Oh wow.

J: Yeah, it was a big deal. The whole- so there was no one in the club. Like, no one was coming to see Pencey Prep, let's-

F: There were actually a couple of people!

J: A couple of people.

F: And I mean a couple... Four.

J: A couple of people, the bartender, and I think, half the other bands had already left. However, whoever was in the bar- we were smoking onstage, people are smoking at the bar, like, lighting one after the other after the other, because they knew at like, 3 o'clock in the morning when the bar closed, there was no more smoking indoors in New York.

F: Well, that's why Pencey had to quit. Had to stop because Shaun couldn't smoke onstage anymore.

S: That's it!

J: I mean, if you want the real behind the music answer-

F: That's true!

J: It was like, "Well, you can't smoke indoors..."

F: We pretended it was creative differences. It was actually the smoking ban.

J: It was the smoking ban! And honestly, if they ever offered an outdoor festival, we could get back together because Shaun could smoke onstage. You quit though.

F: Yes!

S: Yeah, no cigarettes anymore, man. Yeah.

J: Now you've got nothing holding you back.

F: Meth. He's gonna smoke meth.

S: Now it's meth.

F: "I got this meth pen I keep. Yeah, it's terrible for my teeth, but at least I quit smoking."

J: Jesus. So, we went from one small space to another. So, we eventually outgrew Frank's mom's basement and then we went to a studio in Clifton that was in a warehouse.

F: Yeah.

J: And we got a very very very very small room. It was almost as small as the basement, and a lot less ventilated.

S: Oh, the first one!

J: The first room, yeah.

S: That's right!

F: Eventually, I'm pretty sure they turned that original room that we got-

J: Into a bathroom.

F: Into a bathroom, that's how small it was. It was like a single person bathroom, right?

J: Yeah.

F: But it was a lockout. You could go there 24 hours, it was yours to make as much noise and as loud as you wanted.

J: Absolutely.

F: It was sweaty as fuck. And I also remember, didn't the lights not work for a little while? So we had to keep the door open.

J: Yeah.

F: Do you remember that?

S: Is that true? I don't remember.

J: Yeah, we had a-

F: It may have just been a lightbulb, but no one replaced it!

J: Ok so, no matter how small the room is, the ceiling is really really high!

F: Yeah! Exactly, exactly.

J: So, I forget what it took to finally get one of us to like, borrow a ladder from- I think we borrowed a ladder from my dad.

F: Possibly!

J: We drove it down there, we changed the lightbulb, and that was it.

F:Yeah.

J: We had a Coke machine right next door. They made a lot of money off of us on that Coke machine.

F: Nothing tastes better than like, a cold canned Coke.

J: It was the only thing cold in that entire warehouse.

F: This is true, this is true.

J: So, we were in that room for a while and that's where- we probably wrote half of Heartbreak in Stereo, in your mom's basement. Some of the songs, I had leftover from when I was like, 13-14 years old, and that's why the subject matter- if you listen back to Heartbreak In Stereo, is very like, "Oh, a 14 year old kid with feelings wrote this."

F: There ya go, yeah!

J: Yeah. So then we wrote more of it in your mom's basement. I think we finished it in that small room in that rehearsal place.

F: I would say, yeah. Probably.

J: Yeah. And that's about the time like, we-

F: Well, there- you know what? I actually- I'm getting a flashback. There is an interstitial moment-

J: What's that?

F: Between my mom's basement and us going to hourly rehearsal studios, before the lockout. That was before, I think, a room had opened.

S: Right.

J: Oh, that was Backstage.

F: Right? There was Backstage, and then there was one on like, 1 and 3?

J: Oh, the one on 1 and 9?

F: 1 and 9, rather.

J: It was so hard to get to.

F: Yeah! It was so fucking-

J: It was so hard to get into. Most of us, we went there once. We went to Backstage a bunch of times. Now, Backstage Studios was in Little Falls, New Jersey.

F: Mhm, yep.

J: And I don't think it's there anymore.

F: I believe it's something else now.

J: It's something- I think it's called Smacktone now.

F: Okay.

J: So it was like, if you watch an 80s movie with the heavy metal bands, like this is where they practiced.

F: Oh, definitely.

J: And you know, all the amps were in various states of disrepair, they had pictures of all the bands that practiced there on the wall.

S: Yeah!

F: Mhm.

J: Including a picture of the guy who ran the place's old band, Transcontinental.

F: Oh, wow!

J: Right? And I remember this because like, you'd go in there, your friends would tell you like, "Hey, you know, Backstage is cool to practice at. You definitely wanna check it out. Check it out, it's fine, they're decent rates. They're cool if you cancel at the last second, they're not gonna like, gouge you, but you just ask for The Worm." And, I'm like-

F: The Worm!

J: "The Worm?" And like, "Yeah yeah yeah, just ask for The Worm." And I'm like, "Who- why do they call him The Worm?" Like, "Just ask for The Worm." And so, I remember going there once and I was like, "Hey, can I talk to The Worm?" And the guy got so pissed. Like, I don't even remember what his real name is, and he's like, "Don't call me that! No one calls me The Worm!" And he had like this thick German accent that I'm not going to insult the German people by trying to do that accent. Like, just imagine Hans Gruber yelling at you-

F: Oh Jesus!

J: -about trying to book your hourly rehearsal place. So we finally get there, we're going there for weeks, we're going there for weeks, and our friend Tim is looking at the pictures on the wall, and he sees the band Transcontinental. He's like, "Wow, that guy- oh my god, it's the guy that runs this place!" We all come over, we're all looking over. Now, everyone in this band is wearing like, the tightest like, you got poured into these jeans. And he had this big ol' dick that was just hanging down the side of his leg! You know like, in Police Academy where Steve Guttenberg puts the balloon down his pants? Yeah, except that this was all meat. And I'm like, "Wow, I guess that's why they call him The Worm!"

S: Oh fuck.

J: Yeah, so we didn't practice there too long... So after- What the fuck was that?

F: I have no idea! Did that come out of you?!

J: It wasn't me! Oh shit!

F: [imitates stomach gurgling] Please save that! I don't even care if it makes the- if it doesn't make the podcast! You just have to save it for us!

J: No, it's in there! So, after we learned the secret of The Worm, we ended up at the lockout. And the lockout, we spent a lot of time and we wrote the rest of the record, and we eventually recorded the record which became Heartbreak In Stereo. We went on our one ill-fated tour, and then uh, Neil left the band.

F: Mhm.

S: Wait, but at that practice space. Remember, isn't that when Hambone swallowed and then threw up a goldfish?

F: That was the rehearsal- that was the hourly! At Backstage, and I actually think that that-

J: I forgot that!

F: I think that is online somewhere. I think there's a video of that!

J: Don't Google it.

F: Oh.

J: I just, I'm sure it is. I'm sure it is.

F: I think it's like, the offical video for-

S: The Secret Goldfish.

F: The Secret Goldfish, yeah! That's how she got her name.

J: Holy shit, I completely forgot that I actually did that.

F: Yeah!

J: Why did I do that?

F: You were doing it for- that was your thing!

J: That was a party trick! That was a party trick that I used to do.

F: Yeah! You did it a couple times.

J: Yeah, if you had an aquarium in your house and I came to one of your parties in the late 90s, I'm really sorry!

F: "That's a really cool fish! It'd be cooler if it was inside me."

S: "I'm gonna swallow that fish. Hold on!"

F: "Don't worry, I'll give it back. I'm just gonna borrow it for a second."

J: Jesus Christ, I'm really sorry about that PETA. And anyone who-

F: Goddamn!

J: -who would be upset by this. I don't- I barely remembered that happened.

F: Well, here's the thing! Fish only have a like, memory for what, like 9 seconds or something, right?

S: Yeah, you might as well just swallow them. It doesn't matter.

F: Yeah! All I'm saying is if you hack them back up, like, he's gonna be alright. He's not gonna remember.

S: I don’t think they were alive though, were they?

F: Yes, they were!

S: They were?!

J: They were.

F: Very much so.

S: When you threw them back up?

J: Yeah.

F: Yeah!

S: Oh shit!

J: Oh god.

F: Alright, here's the thing. One, I don't remember how that started.

J: I don't remember. I think it was a dare.

F: I'm sure that- yeah.

J: Or I lost a bet.

F: But why did you think that you could do that? You know what I mean?! Like-

J: I don't remember! I think they uh- Oh! Because I think I was telling a story once how I used to be able to throw up on command to get out of going to school.

F: Yes! Yes, that's true, I remember you being able to do that.

J: Yeah, it was great because any time I needed to get out of school for something or like, you know, the bully was coming around, I'd get out of it.

F: Right.

J: So, yeah, I was pretty good at-

F: Nothing will stop a fight like throwing up on somebody!

J: Seriously, yeah.

F: That's true!

J: But we didn't even escalate it to that point. I would never even have to leave the house. You know?

F: I like that.

J: I was like, sitting around watching Sally Jesse Raphael in my pajamas while everyone's at work, because I was like, "I'm sick, I'm throwing up." It's like, "Well, now I'm gonna go eat this microwave pizza because I'm fine." So yeah, so I did that at Backstage, and then we got to the rehearsal space. When we got the lockout, we took it a little more seriously because we were definitely paying a lot more for it.

F: Yeah.

J: I think we were paying like 500 bucks a month for that like, tiny bathroom that we were practicing in.

F: Were we really?!

J: Yeah.

S: That's a lot!

F: That sounds like a lot, especially at that time!

J: Yeah.

F: I would say- that sounds high to me. But okay. I mean-

J: It was.

F: Yeah, that kinda goes back to like, the original origin story when we were talking about having the means to do this and sacrificing everything in your life. Like, that was truly us to a tee of, like, "Alright, well, I'm gonna not eat. I'll still buy cigarettes, know what I mean? And weed, but I'm gonna make this work so that-"

J: The important stuff!

F: Yeah! So you know, the creative stuff!

J: Creative juices, gets it flowing.

F: "So that I can do this." You know? I think, thank god we had really understanding families as well-

J: We did.

F: -you know, that didn't kick us out on our asses. At least not at that point. You know what I mean? That came later. But like-

J: Yeah, mine too.

F: Hey, at some point, you have to. That's the- Jersey curses a lot of people like, being 40 and being like, "Alright, I guess I have to get an apartment now." Like, a lot of people are still home. I mean, we moved out pretty early.

S: Yeah.

J: Yeah, I got out when I was 25. 24 or 25, and the only reason why, I think, I stayed as long as I did was because I was touring. So it was kind of, my home was a home base for me. So, it was about 500 bucks a month for this small room. We got the opportunity when another band broke up and-

F: Yes!

J: Subsequently, I think, 3 bands broke up in a room down the hall that was like, 2 and a half times the size of our room, broken up into 2 rooms.

S: Yeah.

F: Mhm.

J: Because there was a lounge room and an actual practice room.

F: Yeah. That was like the penthouse of fucking practice spaces.

J: It was like the penthouse, and it was almost- I think it was $1,200 a month.

S: Was it that much?!

J: Oh yeah.

S: Holy shit.

J: Yeah, so, I mean, I was waiting tables and working in bars at the same, so I was putting- I was paying for most of it.

F: Yeah.

J: To keep it afloat so we could keep having a place to practice, because you know, once we moved over to the new place, it was just I Am A Graveyard. And we started trying to share it with some other bands. Now, do you remember the way it was set up? I lived there for a little bit because I had a falling out with my parents.

S: Right.

F: Mhm.

J: Over like, you know, how much money and how much time I was spending in bands, and how I'd dropped out of college like, for the fourth time, and how I needed to find like, some level of responsibility. Where, when you really look at being a musician, being any kind of artist, like, it's a second job if you're taking it seriously. So, if you're putting in whatever hours you gotta put in to make ends- you know, 9-5 or like, graveyard shift, doing whatever you gotta do. And then you have your other job which is a full time job.

F: Oh, definitely.

J: Which, you know, for my parents and a lot of parents in our- in the older generation, they didn't understand that because things were supposed to be a certain way.

F: Mhm.

J: So I was living in the rehearsal studio for a while, and I remember it because the guys next door, their drummer was also living in the rehearsal studio as well, in their room. So we had- he was like my first neighbor. Like, my first apartment, he was my first neighbor. And in the lounge room, we had a TV set up. We had a full stereo, we had a little refrigerator, and we had a microwave.

F: Yes.

J: Now, what was cool was we had a Food Basics that was right in front of where he used to practice. So we were able to got there and I'd like, you know, get like full things of Chef Boyardee and like, little microwave food. So, it was a legit first apartment. And he did the same thing, and you know, knock on your neighbor's door to borrow a cup of sugar. Like, knock knock, "Do you have any Chef Boyardee?" And I'm like, "Yeah man, here's some Ramen, do your thing. Live your truth." Now, the funny thing is about where we were: Now our old room, years later, was turned into a bathroom and I still- I practice there on the regular, and that room is the bathroom that's right by where we practice on our floor. The bathroom where it used to be was on the third floor.

F: Right.

J: Now, the third floor bathroom was a murder bathroom.

F: Yeah, it was.

J: They had a lounge on the third floor with a couch that had- just, it just- covered in jizz. I mean, that couch is just- and we're talking like, jizz from like, three generations of musicians. And-

F: I never wanted to go up- I think we’d-

S: We used to pee in corners.

F: -pee in bottles.

J: We used to pee in like-

S: Oh, yeah, that's-

J: In Burger King cups.

S: I-

F: You just peed in the corner?! Goddamnit!

S: Well, not in our room! In the hallway!

F: Oh right, oh, yeah yeah.

J: No, we pissed in the room too. We did. We pissed in the room, we pissed in the cups, and the Gatorade bottles, and we'd leave them on the windowsill and some days, they'd fall over.

F: Sometimes, it happens.

J: And we almost- the first we almost got evicted was because the people in the warehouse downstairs were complaining because there were cups of falling piss, and they traced it back to our room.

F: It wasn't hard.

J: So, I'm living in the rehearsal studio, I'd have to go to the bathroom. And I'm there late at night, and it is scary there during the day. At night, it had like 3 stalls, and a couple urinals, and it had a shower.

S: Ugh!

F: Yeah.

J: I never used the shower there. I would always sneak back into my parents' house. Because as much as I was taking a stand, I was always sneaking back into their house and using the shower, or like, showering at a friend's house, because like, I thought I was gonna get murdered in this place!

F: Oh yeah, no. That- yeah. I'd rather get murdered than take a shower there.

J: Yeah, so. So bands would live there. They actually established a rule later on that bands are not allowed to have people living there.

F: Yeah.

J: Probably because of me.

F: Wow, yeah. And then also, unfortunately, like years and years later, someone passed away there.

J: Someone did die, yeah. There was a carbon monoxide leak, and unfortunately, someone did pass away there. So, it's- that's what we were up to. We were in that room and I come back one day, and so- There's two rooms. It's the lounge room and there is the main room which is huge. You could fit two bands, two and a half bands comfortably. I come back one day, and Mr. Shaun Simon just decides, "You know what? I don't like this wall here."

F: Yeah!

J: And he just demolished the wall.

F: Sledgehammered it.

S: What?!

F: Yeah! You don't remember this?!

S: No!

F: Oh my god! Alright.

S: Wait, between the two rooms?!

F: Yes!

J: Between the two rooms, yeah!

F: That's why it wasn't there anymore!

J: Yeah.

S: Come on!

F: You took a sledgehammer and knocked it down without telling anybody!

S: I couldn't have been the only one behind that.

F: Yes you were! Well, we- it had been talked about. "Oh, look at how much more space we would have if this wall wasn't here!"

J: And I said, "Don't do it! We'll probably get in so much trouble."

F: "Yeah, we don't own this fucking place!"

J: Now, mind you there is-

F: Also, none of us are knowledgeable enough to know how to do this the right way!

J: So it's in an industrial park, right?

F: Yes.

J: So there's a giant dumpster outside. So I come in one day, and there's all this like, sheet rock and like, wood and shit in the dumpster, and I'm like, "Oh, that's crazy." And then I look up- and I looked at it and I see the sheet rock, and it's painted, and it's this green color. And I was like, "Wow, that's- that looks like our room's green color."

F: "That's a familiar emerald green."

J: "I wonder if other rooms are painted the same way." And then I walked in, and mind you, the- in the lounge area, I had completely wallpapered the walls with different posters and different pictures and stuff like that. So, the lounge had its own atmosphere. Well, no more! Because I come in and all that's left is this power strip that goes down to a four panel electrical socket.

F: Yes, that's now just dangling because-

J: Right in the middle of the room.

S: I didn't do that by myself!

F: Yes you did!

S: Really?!

F: I- Yes! And I'll tell you how I know that you did it.

S: Wait. You weren't there with me?! I was-

F: No! I showed up-

S: Come on!

F: -and you were covered in sheet rock, with goggles on, holding a hammer! A large sledgehammer!

S: Really?!

F: And I was like, "Oh my god!"

S: Because this sounds like something we would've done together.

F: Yeah it does, but we didn't!

S: Fuck!

J: Well, yeah, because I immediately blamed you!

F: I know! And I was like, "I told him this was a bad idea!" I- yeah, none of us were-

S: Wow!

F: Yeah. First off, here's the thing. You're renting a place that is a certain way.

J: Yes.

F: You can't just knock down a wall. Or you shouldn't, at least, without permission. Also, none of us were knowledgeable to do anything like that. Like-

J: Right.

F: I feel like you should have some sort of experience in construction and/or demolition and/or electrical and/or- yeah! Of course.

J: Like, my brother is a contractor now.

F: Yes.

J: Back then, not so much. But I think he probably took woodshop, so he at least would've had a better idea on what to do. So, now we had this completely double wide room.

F: Yeah!

J: And then we started inviting other bands. And so, at one point, in there we had Murder By Death.

F: Yep.

J: We had Thursday, and then eventually- well, The Hostage was there.

F: The Banner.

J: The Banner, and then My Chem.

F: Day at the Fair was there.

J: Day at the Fair was there for like a hot second. They were just kinda passing through. It's crazy though because I did go to Asbury Lanes the other night to see Thursday perform. And they wrote War All The Time in our room.

F: Mhm.

J: You guys wrote Bullets.

F: Yep.

J: In our room. The Banner wrote like, a record in our room as well. So, I mean, everyone put out stuff in that rehearsal space, which I think is pretty cool.

S: And My Chem also shot your first video for Vampires.

F: We did! And Murder by Death did a video.

S: Did they?

J: Yeah.

F: Yeah. Alright, so back into construction.

J: Right.

F: I feel like, once the wall came down, like the Berlin Wall, all bets were off. It was like, "Now we can do anything!"

J: "Now we can do anything."

F: "We're free! We're free to do whatever." And we built a set for that video within the room, and then decided to keep it. Like, we made flooring.

S: Yeah.

F: I remember that was another thing too was, we put down these like, plywood sheets-

J: Right.

F: Then Gerard and I painted all that stuff overnight.

J: Yeah!

F: And got so high from the fumes that it was like, "What are we- I don't even know what we're doing." Like, you know- it was crazy!

J: Well, speaking of Gerard, it's funny because we- he and I one night, I don't even know how it happened, but I think you had paint leftover. So we painted the door.

S: That's right!

J: Not the inside of the door.

F: No, the outside, yeah.

J: We painted the outside of the door to the room black. And I had a stencil of Elvis, so we got white paint, and we got a bunch of other stencils, and we painted the little picture of Elvis on top, and the door itself said, "Who will survive and what will be left of them?"

F: Yep.

J: And that's why Murder By Death named that record that they wrote there Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left Of Them.

F: Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

J: Because at that point, we've already done construction, we're doing whatever the fuck we want in this place.

F: Fuck it, yeah!

J: So many bands had shot their videos there.

F: "Try to kick us out!"

J: Oh, they tried.

F: Yeah.

J: However, do you know what saved us?

F: Umm, love.

J: Uh, no.

F: No, oh, okay.

J: I narced on another band.

F: What?!

J: No, it had to be done.

F: Uh oh.

J: So, there was a guy who was the property manager there.

F: Okay.

J: Right? And you know, you'd run into other bands in the parking lot and people are like, "Man, like, am I crazy or- my knobs on my amp are all like, turned differently." And like, "Yeah, I'm missing like, this piece of my gear. I'm missing this piece of my gear." Like, there was stuff that would go missing, stuff that would be kind of moved around in rooms. Like, people were going in with the dude and messing around with people's gear, and like stealing stuff, and doing whatever.

S: Oh.

F: Oh, wow!

J: Because he had a master key.

F: Right.

J: So, him and his friends used to party up on the third floor on the aforementioned jizz couch, and one night, they wrecked the entire third floor.

F: I remember that!

J: There as a giant stuffed bear. Like the giant stuffed bears they sell at Costco now, that are the size of like, an actual full sized bear.

F: Yes. I have one in that closet and I'm saving it for Christmas.

J: Do you really? Just ripped apart, like, stuffing everywhere. So, we had just been blamed for like, the pee cups, we had been blamed for- they were mad at us for painting the door. All this stuff is going down. So, I just marched right into the office. And I walked in and- also, the rent was coming mostly from me, it was constantly late. So, you know, they're already on us for paying the rent late, so I just march right in the office and I go see the guy, George, who's running the place. And I sit down and he's like, "What do you want?" And I said, "Listen, out of respect for you and out of respect for your establishment, and out of self-preservation, I'm gonna tell you that it wasn't us who wrecked the third floor. Because I know, we've been getting blamed for everything." And he's like, "Well, because you guys do everything." And I was like, "Well, you know, be that what it is-"

F: "Neither here nor there!"

J: "We did not wreck the third floor." "Well, who did?" And I was like, "Well, who do you think wrecked the third floor?" I was like, "Who has a key to everything?" I was like, you know, "Who has access to the place even more than the bands do?" And he got like, real quiet for a second and I was like, "You know, just think about that. Just know, it wasn't us." And he got up, and he says, "Well, that took a lot of integrity for you to march in here like that," and he shook my hand, and he said, "Thank you very much," and we never had a problem again.

F: Hm.

J: So, I didn't actually say who it was, I just, you know-

S: Right.

J: Alluded.

F: Interesting. I'm still not putting the pieces together. I have no idea who did it.

J: Oh, he knew.

F: I think it was Shaun, to be honest!

S: Honestly, it might've been.

F: It might've been!

S: Might've been. I could've- I wouldn't know.

F: Blacked out, tore down a wall, and killed the stuffed bear.

J: Yeah.

S: You would think I was doing a lot of drugs but I never did.

F: No!

J: You didn't.

S: Never.

J: You know, for those listening at home, it was the burnout on the jizz couch with the giant bear.

F: Oh, man.

J: Mystery solved.

F: Mr. Mustard.

J: Yeah, so eventually, you know, we did ultimately leave that studio. Everyone eventually left that studio. For the time and place though, it was pretty hopping. We had a lot of fun there, and we also-

F: I met my wife there.

J: You did meet your wife there.

F: Yeah, first time I ever met her.

J: Isn't that cool?

S: I think I met my wife, too!

F: Yes, probably!

S: I think she showed up in the studio one day.

F: Isn't that weird?

S: That's fucking weird.

J: I wasn't so lucky.

F: Aww.

J: So, we are gonna wrap up this episode and next episode, we're gonna talk a little bit about touring, and a little bit about traveling back in the day, versus what it's like to tour and travel today. Frank, do you have any last thoughts on the studio?

F: Oh geez. Well, one thing that I do not miss, is the death trap of an elevator that you would have to load out of.

S: Oh god.

J: Oh god.

F: That was always- I still have nightmares about it. Here's the thing. It's a freight elevator, that sometimes would run, and sometimes wouldn't run. And you would have to kinda stick your hand into the guts of it and pull a rope to let you go up or down.

J: Right.

F: And there's a sign that like, you know, “easy to read” is questionable, that said like, you're not supposed to ride inside it. But if you didn't, it would send all your gear all the way down to like, this dark basement that was half flooded and full of snakes and bugs and rats and bullshit, and then you would never get your gear again. So, you had to ride in there to actually operate the elevator and make sure it got off at the right floor.

J: Scary.

F: Yeah. It almost was set up as a guillotine, where there was a space open in it and if you had any kind of appendage or a head sticking out, it would cut you off as it fell to the floor. I still have nightmares about that elevator and I'm so glad that I never have to go on that thing again.

J: How about you, Shaun? Any final thoughts on the studio?

S: I remember- because as you were saying that you did pay for most of us- I mean, I didn't have a job at the time. I remember buying you a car.

F: Ah!

J: You did buy me a car!

S: To make up for that-

F: How about that?!

S: At some point.

F: Yes.

J: That was the single greatest gift, I think, anyone has ever given me.

F: Green Hell!

J: Green Hell.

F: Green Hell!

S: And it was like, I remember I bought it, and you and Frank showed up and it was sitting in the parking lot.

F: Yes.

S: Is that what happened?

F: That was incredible.

J: So, Shaun and I got fired from this supermarket reset job that we had, that we're gonna talk about a little more in the next episode, because it does have to do with traveling and how we used to travel back then.

S: Oh, yeah.

J: So, we were driving around. And I was driving the Pencey Prep van around and it was my daily driver car. I sold my car to get the van. Holy shit, was that a bad deal! So, I'm driving the Pencey Prep van around and that's the only motor transportation I had. We drive past this dude's house, and on the street, there is a '69 Ford LTD, murder black with neon green flames. Like, Rat Thing (?) green.

F: Oh, so cool.

J: And I was like, "Oh man, I wish I had a car like that." I'm just like, so tired of driving this van around. Because like, you know, running out and just trying to go to the supermarket, or go to the liquor store to get a 6-pack, im with this giant murder van. And so, I was driving Frank around for something, I came back to my house, and it's parked out in front of my driveway. Shaun actually went out and bought the car. He knocked on the guy's door, and made a deal, and I own this beautiful vintage car that was a monster, and people thought I was so much tougher than I was.

F: Oh, yeah.

J: Because im driving around in there, but man, I'm a big ol' softie.

F: That was a badass gift, dude.

J: That was a fantastic gift.

S: Well, it was a very Hambone car.

J: It was a very Hambone car.

F: It was, absolutely.

J: And i've never forgotten that, Shaun. Thank you for that, man, that meant the entire world to me.

F: Well, you did until we just reminded you. So.

J: So, we're gonna wrap up this episode. Frank, where can people find you?

F: I am on Twitter @frankiero. I am on Instagram @frankieromustdie. And I have a website, frank-iero.com

J: Very cool. Shaun, you got anything you wanna plug?

S: Wizard Beach is still on its way out. I don't know when this is gonna show.

J: This'll either be right before or right after Wizard Beach. Definitely go and check out Wizard Beach when it hits stands. And who's putting it out?

S: BOOM! Studios.

J: BOOM! Studios, Wizard Beach, check that out. You can find me at maitaitv.com for my other podcast, Mai Tai Happy Hour. It is a Tiki pop culture podcast. You could also find me, The Vintage RPG podcast, wherever great podcasts are listened to. And for Frank Iero and Shaun Simon, I'm John "Hambone" McGuire. Join us next month for another episode of Casual Interactions. Until then, hold onto your friends.

#frank iero #hambone #shaun simon #casual interactions #2 #casual interactions 2 #full transcription

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sandwichbully · 7 years ago

Text

Frank from Philly 2: Electric Boogaloo, 16 September 2017

It’s September, everybody, it’s time to check your Gophers schedule if you want to maintain your soul’s healthy, lustrous coat. Today, I made the mistake of venturing into Dinkytown without first consulting the college football schedule and found I had no fucking way out because the police - who should have been arresting and beating the shit out of everybody but me - had closed off all the exits. It was like they corralling us toward the stadium like some nightmare “Down In The Park” scenario; since this is Dinkytown, the presence of “rape machines” is totally plausible. Please, tell me you get the Gary Numan reference. Anyway, there is only one way out of this labyrinth of douche-sluices clad in gold and maroon vertical striped overalls - yes, that’s a thing. That everybody was wearing. Five hundred thousand Clearisil’d goddamned teenage date rapists walking around dressed like Pogo protégés and don’t act like you don’t know who the fuck Pogo is with their Dads behind them wearing cop shades and cop ‘staches, and their main squeeze walking in front of them with her skirt hiked up to her titlets and her chicken cutlet ass cheeks hanging out, not having graduated junior high yet, and not one of these doofus Brock-bros, their apologist dads, or their underaged girlies can pay attention to a crosswalk signal WHERE THE FUCK WERE THE COPS TO BEAT THESE FUCKERS TO DEATH!? So, as mentioned, I, the lone Argonaut, my brethren slain, surrounded by the gold and maroon gophertaurs, found my one exit from the labyrinth: Just book a straight line on SE 4th to Bullshit Central, the confluence of Hennepin, University, 1st, and some other streets, too. It’s where my union hall is, I can take refuge there. There’s also a White Castle if I need a colonic and the Gopher Bar which nobody can remember if that’s racist anymore after the whole Club Jager thing a week back but the art on the wall is still creepy. Kramarczuk’s is in Bullshit Central, so is Brathaus. There’s that Japanese joint that Ron and Jo took me and Tosha to. Nye’s, god rest its overpriced soul, was over there. Bullshit Central really isn’t a bad place to be if you have fifty dollars and absolutely nothing responsible you have to do with it. If I take SE 4th all the way to Bullshit Central, I can make it home, alive, unscathed. I’m feeling pretty good about this, actually. Two Jehovah’s Witnesses buzzed my apartment while I was jacking off this morning and I just powered through that. I think I can make it. And that’s when I see it. Frank From Philly. Cheesesteaks. Real cheesesteaks. I love cheesesteaks. I have nothing else to live for. I mean, I did make a half dozen jars of pickles today but I don’t think I’ll live through the next ten days, let alone the next ten minutes, given that I’m in The Land That Consent Forgot. So, that was it. Frank cast out his line. He hooked me. I went inside. My previous review of Frank’s is a far different animal. I told a tale of suburban gym surrounded by antiseptic teens who’d never touched a cigarette or their own clits. Affable lil’ duders who could sell you a Xanax come midterms. A bunch of kids who looked like they did safe things like check in with their roommates if it got late, dipped their bread in milk, had no intention of ever fucking bareback. But that was summer time. That was when the Hitler Youth’s Townie Division was in full force. This? Heh. This is fucking football season, bitches. Everything I’ve ever told you about Dinkytown is like something from Bizarro world. I have never in my life seen so many absolutely sinister looking white kids gathered in one place in the day light. They looked like they want to beat me up just for being old and better sexed. They looked like their genital warts were burning. They looked like they did abortions the way their grandparents did them: a couple kicks to the stomach and a straightened out coat hanger up the kid shitter. And there were about two hundred billion of these absolutely psychotic looking fucks in Frank’s today. My god, the terror. Fucking football season. Little Asian lady greets me at the register and asks me how I was doing. I didn’t go into any elaborate detail over how panic-stricken I was at the moment because one: she wouldn’t care. She has to work in this environment and I bet she carries a firearm of some sort. It’s football season. And then two: She’s hot and I want her to think I am strong and capable so she will like me and ask me to stick around until she clocks out so we can go to a bar, have a few drinks, and then she takes me back to her place and her and her identical twin sister roommate take turns pegging me until the sun comes up. So I said, “Good.” “What can I get you?” “From behind,” is what my sick man devil brain wants to say but what comes out of my mouth is, “Yeah, I was looking at a cheesesteak. Can I get that with cheezewhiz, peppers, and onions?” She starts typing on the register, muttering what I think is, “God, this customer is so fucking good looking and refined, not like these short-dicked boys that always come in and out of here,” but turns out to be, “OK, cheesesteak… pppeeepppppeerrss… oooonnnnions…” She looks at me and does not tell me, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a sexual partner and I would like to give you a tour of our walk-in cooler,” opting instead to say, “You said cheezewhiz?” I want to say, “Take me to bed and lose me forever,” but I said, “Yeah.” She asks, “Is that for here or to go?” because you know I’ve beaten this joke to death when I break out a Top Gun reference. “For here,” I tell her. I’m not going to bike with a sloppy ass cheesesteak in my bag. And, unlike the last review where there was nothing going on and I had to wait a week and a half for my cheesesteak, in the middle of this crowded, hectic scene, she walks by a guy coming from the back and yells in his face, “CHEESESTEAK!” I expect him to make it but he looks confused. She starts making the cheesesteak. She’s not wearing an apron or plastic gloves or nothing protective. She just gets right on the goddamned grill like its her fucking personal grill from home and starts chopping fucking steak on the grill. I go to Trieste for two specific reasons: They have the best gyros in all of Minneapolis - I’ll put money on that statement until someone brings me to a better gyro shop - and I love watching the Greek guy in the kitchen work. It’s like watching Michaelangelo paint the Sistine, this fucking guy. And he wears an apron and gloves. And here I’m watching this little Asian lady do the same thing on this grill, just - “Hey, Dustin!” - just rocking the fuck out of - “Hey, DUSTIN!” Sorry, she’s working this grill like - “Dude, I’m going to sit over here!” Anyway, she’s - “Did you already grab your drink!?” Goddamnit. See, I can’t even enjoy watching her work the grill because whatever this shit head’s name is is yelling right next to me to let Dustin know he’s going to sit over wherever. I’ll give you three guesses how they were dressed and the first two don’t count. The Asian lady yelled “CHEESESTEAK!” at the dude from in back again and he kind of ducked as he walked to the back. Within minutes, however, my cheesesteak is ready. A lot faster than last time. The Asian lady struggles with the cheezewhiz pump and looks at me, handing me the plate. “Cheesesteak?” I say yeah, thank her, and find the cleanest table for one that I can, with a window to my right and a beam directly across from my chair. To my left, an angry young black man glowers at me over his girlfriend who is unconcerned with anything but her phone and I’m afraid I might have just done something racist. Did I do something racist? Oh, fuck, was I being racist? Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Jesus Christ. These fucking college kids, man, they’re all fucking football crazy and they’re woke “AF”. It’s bad enough I’m twice their age and I don’t rape people, I’m also fucking racist or something, too. Did I not check my privilege? I came in here and ordered a fucking cheesesteak. With cheezewhiz. And peppers. And onions. Why was this angry young black man glowering at me? Did I just unknowingly do some alt-right shit? Because those guys change their memes all the time. Did they pick up cheesesteaks and nobody told me? Is the cheesesteak the new sandwich of white nationalism? I mean - Then he looked at his table of white friends and returned to his pizza. One of the clown-suited white kids got up and said, “Dude, call me,” as he left, presumably to assault somebody and do debit card frauds, and the young black man nodded. The place was packed with a lot of little white fuckers. White boys, white girls, all straight or straight-seeming. Maybe the dude who glowered at me felt underrepresented. Maybe I did something racist without knowing it. Maybe his pizza tasted like shit. Anyway, I picked up my sandwich as the conversation behind me turned to the straightest white dude shit you could think of: Hugh Hefner. I looked out the window and saw a dude try to hold another dude’s hand and thought, “Oh, maybe football season isn’t so -” NOPE! He was just trying to ball-tag him. Goddamnit. I was in the nucleus of white jock bros doing white jock bro shit, like picking up kegs and getting young tight strange on the reg. I was the odd man out here, the stranger in the strange land, in my high-cuffed jeans, Frank Sinatra mug shot t-shirt, four week old beard that none of these kids could grow. Not a stitch of U of M color on me or a wisp of alcohol on my breath - it was five thirty, ferfucksake. The angry young black man wasn’t glowering at me. He’d been looking me over. I looked different. I was a white dude but not a white dude from around here. Or maybe I had done something racist and hadn’t known it. Still, though, he was probably checking me out and I just caught him at the wrong moment. Like when I saw Todd Trainer coming out of a Dunn Bros and I made my “Is that Todd Trainer?” face right as Todd Trainer looked up at me and saw my “Is that Todd Trainer?” face which, from the way the muscles in my face feel when I recreate it, must look an awful lot like my “Well, my IBS is fucking flaring up again!” face. It’s not a good look. That’s what Todd Trainer saw. Anyway, I let it go because I had bought the ticket, I had to take the ride. It was time to eat my goddamned cheesesteak. You’re probably wondering how it was. I hardly remember the last time I was there, a little over a year I should think. So I can’t really compare it to last time. My meat was cooked, not seasoned, didn’t need it. (Note that, PepperJax. “America’s Favorite Cheesesteak” my sexy Black Irish ass. Lay off all the goddamned Lawry’s.) The peppers were nearly goddamned fluorescent, the onions translucent. The cheezewhiz looked like something I should not be eating, like it was really just plumbing caulk and annatto, but I’ve got a fucking deathwish, like that L7 song, so yeah, fuck it. Little Asian lady, because she was trying to send me signals, doused the goddamned sandwich with it. Like she was happy about it. Like she had a plan that day. She had woke up to kill round eyes and this was her first shot all day long. It was fucking delicious. It was savory. It was heaven. All that beef grease and cheezewhiz dripped on my wax paper and I just sopped it right back up with the sandwich. As I did, the loud conversations turned to nothing but a gentle thromming around me, like the sound of my mother’s heart while I was in the womb. I had returned to the gentle place, the place before pain, the place of tranquility and security. I was home, my droogs, I was home. Not around these bros, no. In the sandwich. I pounded that fucker down in about four minutes. Then the world came rushing back at me. Saturday. Dinkytown. Sun close to going down. Football season. Jesus Christ, I had to go. Connors and Bethanies everywhere. A new throng of Bethanies entered as I got up to throw my wax paper away and all their ponytails were tied so high and tight that their eyebrows were in a constant expression of surprise, tight little non-cheeks poking out of skirts. I threw away my wax paper and tried to avoid physical contact, hell, eye contact and I SAW A GUY WITH AN UNDERCUT OH GOD DEAR JESUS HELP YOUR SERVANT PLEASE GOD MOTHERFUCKING JESUS AND MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL DELIVER THIS SINNER DELIVER THIS SINNER OH LORD SONOFABITCH THEY’RE MULTIPLYING! THEY’RE MULTI- DID SOMEBODY GET ONE OF THEM WET!? OH MY GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN BABY JESUS PLEASE I SWEAR I WILL NEVER TOUCH MYSELF AGAIN JUST DON’T LET ANYBODY FEED THEM AFTER MIDNIGHT! I begin hyperventilating. I need air. I need a pink lemonade. With some Hennessy. And a cigarette dipped in embalming fluid. God sweet lord baby Jesus get me out of here. The exit! I see the exit! If I can just make it to the exit! I make it! I’m out! I’m free! I unlock my bike, put on my headphones, and hit start on my phone. Public Enemy. Classic cut. “911 Is A Joke”. I straddle my bike, look briefly through the windows at Frank’s Football Season Patronage. They’re. All. Staring. Back. At. Me. I swear to god. They’re all staring back at me. Shit was unnerving. I got out of Dinkytown before sundown. Came back to the apartment. Slammed back a grape pop. If you go to Frank From Philly’s, go during baseball season.

#2017 #dinkytown #cheesesteak

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