BLOOD LUST
I don't even know how to talk about last night in a way that could ever possibly recreate the drama.
First: Drinks on the porch at Trudy's. Place is packed. I spot a roach on the wall behind Diane. "Don't talk about it, don't look at it, I don't even want to think about it," Bryce said, stabbing at his salad. Suddenly it rushes towards her: customers are jumping up, hitting the walls with their flip flops in their hands, kicking, stomping, screaming. The roach is killed and everyone dies down, UNTIL......... one minute later, like TEN roaches swarm out from behind the waiter's station. Waves of people are screaming, pointing, slapping, frantically stomping. Roaches everywhere. No one can kill any. Bryce continues to eat his salad; a roach runs past him on the ground and he lifts one leg (without ever leaving the chair) and SLAMS it down defiantly square on the roach. The best part was that he let out a primal scream as he did it. We're dying. Chris had two hands over his mouth and his eyeballs were huge. Before we even get over it (remember: maybe 25 - 30 people are still screaming and stomping and being roach swarmed) it happens AGAIN: again another foot stomp without ever leaving his chair, another direct kill, another primal scream. Random people are telling Bryce he's the man. He continues to eat his salad and be a complete bad ass. "Hey send those roaches over here, I'll take care of them. I don't give a fuck, obviously." And if you're not from Texas, these were the BIG fuckers too, like 2.5 inches long. Northeastern roaches aren't even worth mentioning.
Secondly: Went back to 28th. Play with the dogs and Bryce plays bartender and then these boys - they are like the lost boys, like little savages with rolled up pants and no shoes ever and BB Guns with knives taped to the end - get serious. It's rat hunting time. Food (peanut butter, cheese, and mayonnaise) is placed in the kitchen. The lights go out. The boys get their guns, they sit on the stairs, peering through the railings, and they wait. For however long it takes. Warren poked his head into Tay Thom's room, the gun barrel peeking in with him: "We have a confirmed hit." Run downstairs like kids on Christmas morning. Rat body. The blood looks fake, it's too pink. "Well, it's real." The kitchen floor has rodent blood stains on it. Just think about that for a moment. We looked at the body - Bryce held it with his hand that was wrapped in Saran Wrap and then placed into a plastic bag. One little hole, behind the eye and before the ear. Brain shot.
When I finally left Warren said, "Hey, be quiet on your way out, don't scare the rats away." Taylor was standing with his flood light, ready to go again.
My dreams were filled with rats, being shot or caught by cats and thrashing around. "Then you've got the hunt in your blood," Chris said.
---
Also, we're starting a band, 'cause we look so goddamn good together. EP and a Myspace coming soon.
First: Drinks on the porch at Trudy's. Place is packed. I spot a roach on the wall behind Diane. "Don't talk about it, don't look at it, I don't even want to think about it," Bryce said, stabbing at his salad. Suddenly it rushes towards her: customers are jumping up, hitting the walls with their flip flops in their hands, kicking, stomping, screaming. The roach is killed and everyone dies down, UNTIL......... one minute later, like TEN roaches swarm out from behind the waiter's station. Waves of people are screaming, pointing, slapping, frantically stomping. Roaches everywhere. No one can kill any. Bryce continues to eat his salad; a roach runs past him on the ground and he lifts one leg (without ever leaving the chair) and SLAMS it down defiantly square on the roach. The best part was that he let out a primal scream as he did it. We're dying. Chris had two hands over his mouth and his eyeballs were huge. Before we even get over it (remember: maybe 25 - 30 people are still screaming and stomping and being roach swarmed) it happens AGAIN: again another foot stomp without ever leaving his chair, another direct kill, another primal scream. Random people are telling Bryce he's the man. He continues to eat his salad and be a complete bad ass. "Hey send those roaches over here, I'll take care of them. I don't give a fuck, obviously." And if you're not from Texas, these were the BIG fuckers too, like 2.5 inches long. Northeastern roaches aren't even worth mentioning.
Secondly: Went back to 28th. Play with the dogs and Bryce plays bartender and then these boys - they are like the lost boys, like little savages with rolled up pants and no shoes ever and BB Guns with knives taped to the end - get serious. It's rat hunting time. Food (peanut butter, cheese, and mayonnaise) is placed in the kitchen. The lights go out. The boys get their guns, they sit on the stairs, peering through the railings, and they wait. For however long it takes. Warren poked his head into Tay Thom's room, the gun barrel peeking in with him: "We have a confirmed hit." Run downstairs like kids on Christmas morning. Rat body. The blood looks fake, it's too pink. "Well, it's real." The kitchen floor has rodent blood stains on it. Just think about that for a moment. We looked at the body - Bryce held it with his hand that was wrapped in Saran Wrap and then placed into a plastic bag. One little hole, behind the eye and before the ear. Brain shot.
When I finally left Warren said, "Hey, be quiet on your way out, don't scare the rats away." Taylor was standing with his flood light, ready to go again.
My dreams were filled with rats, being shot or caught by cats and thrashing around. "Then you've got the hunt in your blood," Chris said.
---
Also, we're starting a band, 'cause we look so goddamn good together. EP and a Myspace coming soon.
posted by taylor at 4:27 PM
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