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My coworker double-checked his Concert
Kit- a snap-open plastic
box small enough to fit in those
bony fingers dangling from a
braced wrist- as i
pulled up to the sooty
bus stop. He was happy to have
remembered his
ear plugs.
'In my day (did i say that?) they'd 'a' called me a f-'
*If it's too loud/y're too old*-
his 25 way too old for Metal when i was 18,
even if
it seemed only my cohorts w/ kids or in The
service still cranked up
Sabbath 'n' Zep' over
'Rock 'n' Roll High School' & 'shake yr groove thing' &
'Truckin'' & 'weeeeee may
never
pass this way again.'
'Who cares what anyone thinks? ' he said,
stepping onto the curb, satisfied he was
seeing Rob Zombie,
sound optional, equally pleased with being
willfully ignorant
about the Ramones opening the show as he slammed my door.
What a fag.
Cretan Maineiac
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