Runners Beware!

“Take a good look at him fellas. What started out as fun and games ends up almost on the front page of the paper.” Said Sergeant Williams as he flips through the picture slide show of a blurred mystery jogger at night. The other officers in the room are taking notes while some study the picture up on the screen. Sergeant Williams continues,

               “As you can see, several complaints have been made in the past few weeks of our new found friend, but no one has ever been able to track who this guy is. We were able to get a witness report from an older lady who was driving her truck on county highway 138. She said that she rolled down her window and was yelling at him for being reckless and all he shouted back was ‘No thanks, I don’t need a ride’. He finishes with a grim tone. As the lights come back on with the projector shutting down, he goes for his mug.

               “Look, he’s dangerous to others as well as to himself. All of you are to keep an eye for this guy in your patrols, but I’m placing Miller and Hernandez on special surveillance for that county road. Your dismissed.”

Chairs moan and creak as the early morning brief concludes. Some crowd around the doorways with spurts of loud laughter while others move past. “Eh, did you watch that game last night?” Hernandez asks while smiling.

               “Shutup, yeah he practically pitched him the ball for crying out loud.” Miller says annoyed.

               “Eh man, those are my Seahawks for ya.”

               “Tell ya what, breakfast is on me. How bout that?” Miller says with a grimace.

They head down to the garage guard shack to dispatch a squad car. Hernandez conducts radio checks while filling out the daily checklist. After breakfast, they drive up to a nearby street overlooking highway 138. A couple of street lamps dot out the highway.

               “What time do you have?”

               “3:44,”

               “This guys an early bird.”

               “Yeah, no kidding.”

Hernandez looks through his phone, checking his emails while Miller dims down the computer screen. The radio buzzes with static from other reports.

               “Did you ever hear about that one car chase over in Garden City where the trooper was on him, and he was chasing him for a while, but then went off the road through a fence and kept going? Miller asks while shifting in his seat to get more comfortable.     

“What do you mean, the car went through the fence, didn’t the trooper go after him?”

“No man, the fence was untouched, the car went THROUGH the fence as if he was a ghost or something. The trooper stopped at the fence.”

“What? No way.”

“I kid you not my friend. He had it all on his dash cam.”

“I don’t mess with that stuff, man. No sir.” Hernandez says dreadfully.

Miller sits up as movement is spotted in and out of the street lighting along the highway. Hernandez calls it in as Miller starts up the car and proceeds to follow the distant jogger. “This could be our guy.” They drive up and stalk the runner. Hernandez gives out the description of what he is wearing. Miller turns on his lights and uses the spotlight on him outside his driver side window. “Here we go,” Miller and Hernandez leave the car while Hernandez stays back near the passenger door.

               “Excuse me, hi. How are you this morning? Just keep your hands where I can see them. Can I see some I.D.?” The jogger quietly cooperates opening up his backpack and retrieves his wallet. He hands him his driver’s license and then resumes having his hands seen at waist level. A few cows start to move up to the barbed fence beside the highway.

               “Look, we’ve been getting complaints that you have been jogging alongside this road and…” Miller is distracted by more cows joining by the fence.

               “…and you are dangerous to the…”

All of the cows start to moo – almost angrily. Some now start to push against the fence. Hernandez looks over to Miller.

               “Hey! He’s getting away!” The jogger continues on the highway disappearing into the darkness as the cows start to walk over the fence. Flashes of red and blue strobe over the moving cattle as the policemen hurry back into their car. Miller slams the brakes now blocked by the cows breaching through the fence and flood the road up ahead.

               “Beautiful, just beautiful” Hernandez says under his breath as they watch them crowding near their hood. Miller goes into the computer and types in the licensing information. “So, who is this guy?’ Hernandez asks. Miller sits back and almost turns pale. “What?” The computer screen indicates that the jogger entered in has a deceased date dated five years back.

   

Rocko's Killing Machine (Part Graceland, Seattle)

Rocko's Killing Machine is:

Max = Drums

Riley = Rhythm Guitar

Charlie = Bass

Tom = Lead Guitar/Vox

Jake = Keyboard/Everything else

I sneak beside Lily and peer through the curtains to see the first band finishing up their set list. The lights strobe with power and heavy distortion. The singer starts to thrash in place while partially consuming his mic – screaming the words ‘WAH-TAH, WAH-TAH’. The double bass pedal is dribbling away with the crowd moving like they are all being electrocuted. Lily leans in to take more photos of the band. She loves photography. I would try to get with her, but I think she is dating Charlie. My sources can’t confirm that though.

“Hey Max!” Lily shouts over one of the amps.

“Hi!” I shout back.

“Where is everybody?” She asks over the ‘WAH-TAH, WAH-TAH’. I point up in response to her question. She shrugs her shoulders. Finally, she gives up and takes my hand and walks me more towards the back where it is at least a couple decibels quieter. “They’re all upst – ” I am halted mid-sentence as she goes in to kiss me. Instantly my arms go around her and hers around me, and for those ten glorious seconds, everything around me doesn’t matter and disappears. I am lifted up into a paradisiac state. Confusion, passion, and surprise are all put in a blender for that very moment, and then she breaks away and goes back to the stage to take more photos. I stand there in the dark, off the stage listening to the crowd’s roar in thunderous praise to the closing of Hopes Autumn. What just happened? I go upstairs, into the cramped lounge room.

“Sup man,” Riley calls out while sitting back lightly strumming a part for one of our songs. I walk over and sit next to him on a dusty couch. It practically swallows you as you sit in it. “I was just checking out the opening act.” I say to Riley totally distracted from ‘other things’.

“Yeah, they’re pretty good, they are from North…Carolina” Riley says in a failed attempt to sound suave. I check my watch and look around, there’s nobody here. “Where is everyone?”

“Aside from you, Charlie is either outside watching out for Tom or with Lily, Jake is either playing Halo with the third act, Mono in their van, and Tom…well he’s running around the block…yeah. I figure once they do sound check, I’ll go round them up.” Riley finishes while re-tuning his guitar. I sit there now in the amazement phase, marveling at what just happened. Did it mean anything?

“Hey are Lily and Charlie going…?” I ask while looking over with my eyes half opened as if this question is not supposed to be asked. Riley stops strumming and looks over at me. “You mean, you haven’t heard? Dude, what’s wrong with you. Of course they are.” Riley continues to play.

“Yeah but Charlie comes off as this crazy angry girl and Lily, she is like this soft delicate flower.” I catch myself vocalizing my declared love for this girl as Riley starts to laugh. “Now I’ve heard it all.”

Tom comes up the spiral staircase, panting out of breath. “Alright…its time. Let’s…do…this! Max…you look confused…you…okay?”  

   

Worst Meeting Ever...

Jim walks into the upper management and shareholder's meeting. “Oh Jim, so glad you could make it. We were just going over tactics and marketing on how to better the grocery chain. Come, sit, sit.” Said the man at the head of the table. Jim quickly takes his seat while unloading his briefcase and pad with all the necessary items to be successful.

               “Alright, let’s get right to it.” The man at the head of the table now sounds louder and bolder. “Our sales have gone down by 5 percent last quarter and quite frankly I don’t blame them. Our products just aren’t selling like they used to, so now we need to…” The man stops himself as Jim is seen raising his hand.

“Yes Jim,” Jim puts his hand back down and looks over at everyone at the table. These men were seasoned in what they did, handling the quality, production and sales of each of the stores all across the country, what could a new hire fresh out of college have to offer?

               “Well I was thinking of this really neat idea for a phone app.”

               “A…phone app, Jim?”

               “Yeah, the grocery store would have an app where you can find items in the store much faster.” Jim says to the board with more confidence now feeling that he is on to something and that the store could be improved dramatically because of him. Aw yes, things were looking up for him that day until,

               “Why would you want to do that?” Another man leans over the table with a disgusted tone.

Jim thinks about it and then goes in for a reply, “That way the customer is not wasting time in the store and its more convenient. They can get in and get out faster.”

               “But then they won’t stick around to buy more things. We might as well put the milk and the eggs up at the front if that’s the case.” The man finishes while the rest of the board join in on the laugh.

               “Screw the customer!” Someone else says.

               “Yes well, good luck with that when there won’t be anymore customers left in your stores to screw.” Jim counters the shouted statement. There is silence in the room until Jim breaks it. “Look guys, there are so many ways to improve your stores. For example, energy costs, think about energy and how it takes energy to make energy and that costs a lot of money. Your shopping carts could be the answer to your problems. If your customers were to push the shopping carts, they would be the ones making the energy - as the wheels of the cart turn, energy could be stored in small batteries underneath the…”

               “STOP STOP STOP, what are you trying to do? How much is that supposed to cost? Huh?” The man at the head of the table has now lost his cool. “What other ideas do you have, genius?” Someone else asks mockingly.

               “Well, for one I thought of having mini scanners on each shopping cart so they can pre-scan their items and get an idea of exactly how much they will cost at the check…” The man at the head of the table interrupts Jim by slamming the table with his hand.

               “I’ve heard quite enough from you.” The man signals to the others. Some from the other end of the table get up and start moving in towards Jim. Jim gets up from his chair in a hurry. “What are you doing?”

               “Jim, its been a pleasure working with you, but unfortunately we are going in different directions.” The men approach him as if about to detain him.

               “These men are going to take you away.”

               “TAKE ME WHERE?”

               “Jim, you know our secrets now and for that we must put you away.” Said the man at the head of the table while smiling darkly. Jim bolts for the door while the others pursue after him. “Don’t let him get away!”

Jim cuts out of the hallway, through the double doors and clears the stairs with the others trailing behind. He leaps through the frozen food aisle and runs past the hardware section. Displays are knocked over and stands are crashed into. The two men in suits are starting to gain on him. Jim swooshes past the closed checkout aisles and breaks through the locked entrance doors – shattering the storefront glass. The man who was at the head of the table’s voice comes on the intercom,

               “THIS IS HOW WE DO BUSINESS JIM, IT’S HOW IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN DONE!” His voice gets louder as a helicopter hovers in over Jim who gets on his sport bike. Now several dark SUVs and a chopper are pursuing him through the night streets. “I should’ve went into business for myself!” Jim shouts to himself while doing 95 on the highway.

Travels with Ultra Blue (Part Breakdown #1)

 The road slipped like jelly under the rear tire. Interrupted from thought, the motorcycle attempted to barrel roll – literally I struggled to keep the front tire straight with every muscle in my upper body while at the same time trying to gradually give the front brakes more pressure. It happened so quick! Then stranded in the middle of Oregon late at night along Interstate 5, over 150 miles south of Portland.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” I came to a complete stop and pulled to the middle median. The shoulder of the road was several feet wide and the median was made up of a concrete barrier as tall as a small kid. There were multiple tire treads sprayed across the face of it like one of those Pollock paintings. I paused in disbelief then dismounted the bike and examined the back tire, it was completely flat to where I could squeeze it with one hand. The time read midnight.

“OK, OK WHAT DO I DO?” I scrambled to get my backpack opened and with the flashlight out. This was the flashlight that my father being the good man that he is, reminded me to take with me despite my idiot assurance that I would not need it and yet there I was, eating my words. I lit my face with the light then out came a three trailer semi around the corner. Without thinking yet again, I got out in the middle of the road and flashed an S.O.S. towards the diesel machine until the truck came to a stop. I doubt it was the signal, but more the fact that some kid was standing in the middle of the road. This was I guess my post high school graduation trip, or more like a way for me to escape the issues back home whether it was due to girl issues, the crossroads of life, or too much freedom. Ultimately the destination in mind was to see my grandfather who had cancer. Right then however, I was not making good time. 

The passenger door opens and right there I thought about what I should say or ask. The truth was that my dream was slowly spiraling into a nightmare and I was devastated by the blow. Granted I didn’t get hurt or die at all – but I wasn’t going anywhere that night. Desperate for a vague quick fix to get back on the road the first words that came out of my mouth were,

“Do you have one of those things that fixes tires?” He looked puzzled while giving me a good stare over the diesel engine's loud cranks - studying me with a look of 'who is this kid?'

“Listen, I can take you down to Rice Hill about 14 miles down the road. They have a truck stop.” Without thinking twice I climbed in and LEFT MY BIKE IN THE MEDIAN! How am I still alive today? You don’t get on board a stranger’s truck, he could have been Ed Gein’s brother hiding from the FBI as a trucker. There are some things in this life that you just don’t do and I broke all the rules that night. The guy had on a baseball cap along with a Green Bay Packers shirt. An older fellow, very calm and to himself. He had a light grizzly beard, couple of scars on his hands and forearms. There was a faint stench of stale Coke and the plastic of the dashboard. His eyes were straight towards the road never giving me one look.

He probably figured if I was that dangerous he could just grab the 12 gauge on his left side. I never rode in a semi before. It felt as if I was elevated from the road in a large cockpit looking down on the Geos and Prius’. The view from up here made the road look very narrow and the signs and shrubbery were miniature. The headlights were flawless, reaching about a football field’s distance. He was shifting about 12 times to get up to speed again. While going he was asking me some technical questions about my flat which interrupted the rhythmic tones of the engine's humming.

“So is your tire a tube or a tubeless?” His composure then shifted from calm to wanting to fix the problem quickly, he seemed more alert and quick to respond,

“Well, I think it’s..."

“They got this can of foam that you spray into your flat tire and it gives you enough to go 30 miles to a tire place, Fix-o-Flat that’s what they call it.” 

“30 miles really?”

“Oh yeah” Shifting into another gear he continued, “So it really all depends on your tire.” The conversation was heading towards nothing but bad news I could feel it.

“What’s the difference between a tube and tubeless?” I inquired, he then gave me explanations between the two. While he was talking, I thought very deeply about what it might’ve been. Suzuki manufactured the bike in 1977 and the bike still had the stock tires, with their technology then it would have be simpler. Tubeless was an innovative way to make it easier to purchase tires and that didn’t come out until maybe the 80’s or early 90’s so it would probably be…

“Tube they’re tube” I said feeling relieved for some reason. He looked over very stern and then with a distinct tone replied,

“Then you’re screwed.”

Rocko's Killing Machine (Part Getting Girlfriend Back)

Rocko's Killing Machine is:

Max = Drums

Riley = Rhythm Guitar

Charlie = Bass

Tom = Lead Guitar/Vox

Jake = Keyboard/Everything else

Mike = Dude trying to get his girl back

“Easy with that chalk, man.” Someone shouts over to Riley. “Hey, you do your job, I’ll do mine!” Riley shouts back. Another random night, in the middle of a street, we are out here drawing out a message in color chalk helping Mike get his girl back. I hope she gets the pure voice of the message, because this would sound creepy if a grown man were to read it in a movie trailer voice. ‘CHELSEA, DON’T LEAVE ME. I WILL NEVER GIVE UP, I WILL ALWAYS FIND YOU.’ Yeah she won’t get it. “Dude, you might as well find someone else.” Tom says to the poor guy. Mike walks up to Tom with fire in his eyes. Tom takes a quick step back. “We are not together because I failed to be the man she needed me to be.” Mike says to Tom in a dignified manner.

“That’s not what I heard, man. Someone said that she saw you at Jesse’s party last week kissing on Angela.” Someone says.

“That is incorrect, my friend! Incorrect!” Mike starts to whisper-yell. He stands there for a minute in silence “Well…maybe partially true,” Mike confesses as the rest of us sigh with discouragement.

“…but it’s her that I need in my life, forever til the end of time!” He says that while pointing to her door. Someone snickers in the back.

After ten more minutes, Mike stands there watching us finish up the street doodles and looks over to see Tom tuning his guitar with me holding a tambourine, along with Jake setting up his portable Casio. The rest awkwardly go into other people’s yards to hide. “Alright, stations everyone!” He frantically moves in three different places giving spot reports and finalizing the scene. “It might be too late to do this.” Tom quietly suggests. “It’s never too late to make amends with an angel.” Mike looks at Tom with fiery righteousness.  

 “I think that yard has a dog” Someone in hiding says to another nearby. “Wait, what?”

“No time now guys, it’s showtime!” Mike says as he stealthily moves up to Chelsea’s door and rings the doorbell. “Tom, I need you on this, man. Don’t let me down.”

The lights inside the house come on. “Get ready!” Her door opens up with her silhouette appearing in the opening. “Now!” Tom’s acoustic strums fill in the night air with the rest of us falling into our parts. Mike goes up to her, “…And I still believe, in what we could be…” I can’t really make out her expressions but from the looks of things…

Suddenly a high-pitched roar almost like a screaming woman is heard from behind us. “MOUNTAIN LION! REALLY BIG CAT MAN!” It’s one of those striped ones! The lights on that house now come on with an old man holding some sort of machine gun while wearing a bath robe. Now I see the cougar clawing at the chainlink with it's chained leash looking like it's about to snap.

"I'm not selling my house! Do you hear me? You can take it from my cold dead hands!" The old man shouts as a couple of shots burst into the night sky. The animal shrieks again while more lights coming on from the nearby homes.

“I’m not dying for this dude’s chick, man! She probably doesn’t even like him anyways!” Jake says as he grabs his Casio and runs for my car. "Abort, abort!" Someone yells.

"Where's Mike?" I ask Riley while bolting for the car. I look over to see him getting back with his girl all the while we are running for our dear lives to safety. Now sirens can be heard approaching the neighborhood getting closer.

"Mike so owes us like fifty bucks or something!" Jake yells.

The Mushroom War - Circa, 1987

“No fair! You cheated!” My friend shouts at me while holding the ball. We were able to get more recess time than the 5^th graders. Others at the playground were running around like kids, but me, I was battling this girl in an all-out match of….and that’s when it happened. The buzzing in the air – large metallic beasts started to cover the sky. Tractors ran over the fences in the playground while shooting up at them. Everyone around me screamed and started running away. “Wait!” I called out to my friend who already disappeared with everyone else including the teachers. Loud sirens were heard through the streets. “Daddy?” I remembered calling out under my breath in absolute horror. He was never there anyway, always on his business trips. “Marcy!” My name was shouted from one of the bunkers that the men in the white coats built for us in our school. They came to our school several times and told us about how someday the metallic beasts would come. “Marcy come on!” I ran to them, but was not fast enough. Loud whistling was above me getting closer and closer and then nothing. I was saved by one of them. The white coats.

I woke up on a hill side and saw everything from a distance. The tractors that shot at other tractors, the metal balloons that burst into hot lava fire and knocked over the buildings in the city. Those men in the white coats gathered in groups with the army men, like the one that saved me. He told me he was a wizard sent to preserve the future – whatever that meant. I was the only one there, or at least it felt that way. I was lost. Where was my dad? I look over to see more loud fireworks in the sky. And then bright lights of sky blue flashing against the fire coming from certain people on rooftops. And then that awful explosion, it was so bright that at first everything froze in white light. That’s when I was knocked down and everything blew up. I remembered feeling the burns and cuts as I was covering my ears and shouting against the noise while curled up. There was nothing I could do. I was only seven years old. The thunder was so loud and it hurt to open my eyes. I had to find my dad. The only place where he might be was at the diner where they made my favorite fries. Maybe that’s where he was at. He was probably there waiting for me. I remembered going out there to find him.

Now, it’s been over a thousand years since that day. Had I not seen the photo of one of the wizards in the white coats, I might’ve not remembered it at all. I now live amidst the immortals even if I'm a half vampire. With silent tears, I place the photo carefully back into the ammo crate that was dug up by my friend and his dog. I reach over to hug them both. “That was a very long time ago, thank you for finding this.” I say to them as I float back to my house. This gives me an idea for a new song. 

Rocko's Killing Machine (Part Ghost Hunting)

Rocko's Killing Machine is:

Max = Drums

Riley = Rhythm Guitar

Charlie = Bass

Tom = Lead Guitar/Vox

Jake = Keyboard/Everything else

“Oh crap! Yeah I see her!” Tom shouts out to us as we are standing in the dark all shoulder to shoulder, looking out at an abandoned barn on the other side of a river. “So I heard that she used to play in that barn as a little girl, but then one day fell in that river and drowned.” Somebody had the genius idea of going ghost hunting in the middle of the night during winter in Washington – it’s freezing out here. The night originally started out at a high school basketball game but then a fight almost broke out with Jake and freakin Jeff Deet. That kid always has issues. Once Jeff sped by a disabled homeless man who was trying to cross the street, all the while throwing out his leftover Taco Bell, never even stopping. The kid has no soul.

“I don’t see her.” I call out mildly.

“Dude! You don’t see her ghost, jumping up and down in that barn over there? Jake! Tell me you see her! C’mon man!” Tom whisper-shouts. Jake gives a quick nod that could be mistaken for him shivering to death. Meanwhile Riley’s friend is audio recording all of this. A loud snap of some branches sends us into a state of hysteria followed by several flashlights slicing through the night air with a couple of high shrieks from yes, sixteen and seventeen-year-old men.

“What the hell was that?” Someone shouts. Finally, one of us gets out a flashlight only to find it was Riley going in for a ‘closer look’. “RILEY YOU IDIOT!” Tom shouts.

“You do know that it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you in the dark, right? All of you want to see a ghost so you’re all ‘seeing ghosts’.” I suggest while some recover from the scare.

“Don’t listen to the naysayer. Max, you are so scared that you refuse to believe what you see in front of you!” One of Riley’s friends yell out to me with such valiance. We start to gather back to the cars. The sounds of the river starts to calm as we move further away. “I want my money back, that was lame.” I say for anyone to hear me. Of course this erupts into scoffing and ridicule. “You were so scared! I saw you shaking!”

“Hey I know where there is a real haunted house.” That would be Kate. I tried to get with her a few times, but she wasn’t interested. “This one’s for real, the guy like, killed himself in the basement. I think I remember how to get there.”

From there we cram into cars and follow her on a country road. It’s currently 11:26 pm on a Friday night. “Dude, you mean to tell me that you didn’t see anything? Really? C’mon, I’m your boy, you can tell me if you saw her ghost and were scared.” Jake says to me as he is driving. “Look, I’m not the one to fall into the psychosomatic B.S. ok? I need scientific evidence, that’s all.” I say as I lean back in my seat. “Hey, easy. I’m back here.” Riley’s friend says as he is going through his audio recording.

“Ok, but let’s say that you had this undeniable experience, where you couldn’t explain it, but you knew! Like you just knew!” Someone else from the backseat suggests.

“Well if I had one, then great. Let me know when that happens.” I conclude as I proceed to try to sleep.

“PULL THE FREAKIN CAR OVER NOW!” Riley’s friend shouts while nearly strangling me as Jake almost swerves off the road. “What? What? What?” Someone yells. “Call up everyone now!”

After a moment everyone stops and gets out of their cars. A huddle is formed around this kid with the tape recorder. “Dude, I’m not even kidding, this better be good, because it is freezing as –”

“Shutup! Shutup! Listen!” He rewinds the tape, plays, then rewinds some more and then lets is play. The recording is Tom narrating what we were doing and giving the backstory of the little girl in the barn that is until his own voice is cutout by a distorted-toned-whisper shouting out “TOMMY”, afterwards Tom’s voice on the tape comes back on as if nothing happened. From there, we are catapulted into another panic of shouting and screaming. "I TOLD YOU MAX! I TOLD YOU!"

Words that get Overused

“Hey and don’t forget to send up the rest of your demos to Chris before Friday.” My sister says to me over the phone.

“Nope, I think I’m just going to quit the band that we’ve been in for nearly ten years and feel that five records thus far is sufficient for me.” I reply back to her in a dry tone.

“Uh huh, yeah ok.” She says casually as if in a routine way.

“I was kidding by the way, just in case you couldn’t tell.” I scoff back.

“Hey what did you think of that one with the riffs and…” She is interrupted by me.

“I thought that one was really insightful, the arrow one, no its catchy.”

“Ok, when you’re using words like 'insightful', I know you are not really paying attention.”

“I’m sorry, Its just that…you are getting me at a bad time. I’m supposed to be running right now. I’m committed.” I pace back through my living room watching the clock and observe just how dark it is outside.

“Isn’t it too late to be running over there?” She questions with caution.

“Maybe for you being three hours ahead.”

“Fine whatever, just make sure that Chris has enough time to review all of our demos, please? We should try to get them in by Friday.” My sister says to me over the phone.

I roll my eyes while glancing over at the TV on mute. “Yeah, of course. Most of mine are already done, but there’s still one that I haven’t been able to put to rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, bye.”

After hanging up the phone, I change into my ‘running outfit’ if that's what you want to call it, grab my ipod, keys, and bolt out of the door. My thumb slides up the screen watching the titles swish by as I reach the top to find the shuffle. From there I take Parker passing Bosa Foods. This time I go north up Commercial drive. The song 'My Girls' comes up first, which for running in Vancouver at night can be a real treat.

Getting up to the intersection, I have been taking a left on Hastings for a month now which is in the direction of Gastown, usually I’m weary about this, but for some reason, I'm drawn to it. I feel like I need to be there. The song currently is ‘Happy Nation’ as I'm running past the curled up sleeping bags along the sidewalks of Jackson Ave. The boarded up windows from the run-down businesses are always being salvaged to make mini bonfires, keeping the hunched over silhouettes warm in between the alleyways that I pass by while continuing west. The tips of the towering seaport cranes barely are seen past the tops of the pointed houses that are shut up from urine stained mattresses and marked with painted X's. Some druggies pass by laughing incessantly while chasing others on the street with shopping carts. What am I doing? Sara would never approve of this. I’m the more ‘irrational’ one as she would put it, but whatever. There is really no way of getting out how awful this place is and just how many are suffering from addiction, hunger, deprivation of a home. I get asked for money five or six times at least to which I reply with a quick head shake. If I didn't know any better, I would say that this place is...hell.    

Rocko's Killing Machine (Part Robin's Nest)

Rocko's Killing Machine is:
Max = Drums

Riley = Rhythm Guitar

Charlie = Bass

Tom = Lead Guitar/Vox

Jake = Keyboard/Everything else

“Hello everyone, we’re Jason Voorhees!” The fat man says as he readjusts the mic back to the stand. And just like that within mere seconds the amps blast out every single ear drum within a fifty-mile radius. All five of them thrash out on stage. The fat man turns and wrestles with himself like a grown man trying to get a kid size shirt off while revealing his glorified rounded gut. He screams some more into the mic with his tongue stretching out as if it was trying to form the shape of a letter.

               “There’s nobody here tonight, this blows!” Charlie shouts out even though I can still barely hear her. Everyone is outside either trying to unload equipment or bum cigarettes. “Well we did decide to do this on a Tuesday night at the Robin’s nest, what did you expect?” I shout back to her. A few die-hards fight mosh around up near the small stage moving in sync with the band. I never understood that type of movement at shows. It never ends well, I could compare that to spicy food. You only need just enough for that zing not so much that it ruins your meal and ultimately future health. “Balls, I’m getting something to drink, if you see Riley, I’m over there.” She yells over someone really smashed in the back shouting out ‘you stabbed my girlfriend Jason Voorhees!' A few more gather towards the front of the stage as their set comes to a close. Suddenly Jake comes at me from behind smelling illegal, “Dude! Where have you been?” He shouts directly in my ear while pretending to arm choke me. “I’ve been here the whole time? Are you high again? Where’s Tom?” I shout my questions at him. He sways enough to look like you could knock him to the floor by touching his forehead with just your index.

               “Aww man, he’s…. he’s taking a lap.” Jake finishes that with the widest grin. “Not the lap thing again! Why does he do that? That’s so petty!” I shout out as the band on stage wraps up with three people barely catching the singer from his dive finale. The lights come on revealing the billions of stickers caked on the walls and mystery stains on the floors. Robin’s nest is owned by a family. One of their sons is in my history class at school. The place is not much but great for quick improvised shows and cheap too. However, in the event that a fire would break out, we’d pretty much all die from being crammed like clogged marbles trying to rush out of the only exit.

               “Look, hey pay attention! You need you to go get him. Tell him we’re up next.” I finish that with my hands holding Jake’s shoulders firmly as if trying to channel out some of my stress. He responds back with a salute. “Dude? And I thought you quit? This isn’t Portland, you know?” I wish I didn’t say that last part as he goes in to bear hug me while singing some of the lyrics to one of our songs, “AND I'LL GO TO THE PLACES...I'LL GO TO THE PLACES WHEN WE WERE...YOUNG..”

Tom comes in through the door with Riley following behind him, “Hey man, who gave him the goods? You couldn’t cut him off?” I always seem to be the grounding rod of blame. Somehow it channels down to me, lovable-pushover-me.

               “Hey, I found him like this. It was probably those kids outside who should be home practicing their spelling bees or something.” I say as I hand him off to Tom while pushing his weight towards him. Tom holds up his head,

“Dude! CAN…YOU…HEAR…ME?” Tom shouts at Jake. Jake nods while laughing.

"He’s so baked man, let’s go on without him." Charlie says while shaking her head.

“NO!” Jake jumps up pushing us away. “WE MUST FOLLOW THROUGH!” He shouts out wide eyed.

               “Jake your high as hell and besides, you only have a couple of notes to play on the keyboard. It's not like you're performing your opus,” Charlie says in the driest of tones.

               “I DON’T CARE! THEY NEED ME!”

               “No, we need you to sit this one out buddy.” Riley says as he sits him down near the improvised bar in this hole-in-the-wall establishment. I look around and notice that there are more people gathered inside. Definitely violating some fire codes, but could they really be here for us? Tom jumps up on stage and then the crowd ignites with applause and cheering. What? We must have slipped into another dimension.