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.    

The Birth of Something Great

I feel like my hands will short the mic from holding onto it so tight as if it were a gun. The man across from me seems to be playing the negotiator with his calm slow movements towards me. I really don’t want to cry in front of nearly 4,500 people especially if this is recorded. The broad built man with the deep raspy voice wearing the wireless mic headset comes closer to me. I can barely maintain eye contact feeling so inadequate to speak up.

               “So tell me Richard, why do you want to kill yourself?” He asks confidently while moving steadily in. His eyes never leave mine. The room is so still, the air is stagnant – not a movement or sound as if it was all vacuumed out.

               “Look…I just can’t…” I fail to maintain my composure and start to crash. Wishing that somehow I could just disappear right there.

               “You came here because you DID want to change!” The motivational speaker stands there with his coaching voice giving comfort but with stern lips.

               “No…it’s over…I don’t know what I want in life…” I say with weakness. Inside I know just what to say but can’t gather the reasoning to get it out.

               “Don’t lie to me, you know that deep down you have something to give back. You’re not going to quit, you know that you won’t let yourself quit.”

               “I’m…useless…I can think of so many reasons…” I stop there now fully consumed in my emotions unable to navigate through my words and just fold over and give up. Why did I come here?

               “I can think of so many reasons of why you shouldn’t do it. First off…” He pauses and starts to smile at me, “…you’re a very handsome man…has anyone ever told you that?” I look up with a grin and start to laugh. This is ridiculous, this man is paid to say these things all so that he can accrue enough readers and up his publicity. He doesn’t care how I really feel. I shouldn’t have come here. What a waste of my –

               “Second, you’re a person who possesses the strength to enter in a room of over 5,000 people to MAKE A STAND AND END THIS PAIN…I know you’ve had these thoughts for years, right? If it’s anything I went through, you’ve probably stayed awake for endless hours at night contemplating the quickest, painless way out because you felt that you had no place in the world and that you were never heard and weren’t taken seriously. You’ve probably looked at your peers around you supposedly taking off with life as you were supposedly left behind and that you were still that child who still walks and acts like one inside…haven’t you?”

I stand there motionless but have the courage to look right back at him in the eyes. Suddenly I see that he is in tears as well. Now standing in front of me, he looks down at me (he is a very tall person),

               “In fact, you’re probably so tied up in your own self-criticisms and inner judgments, that its sometimes hard to breathe…and that you would do the world a favor by slipping quietly out the back door…so not to disturb anyone…” We are both in tears. His hands rest on my shoulders,

               “Well…let me tell you what I see in front of me today. I see raw courage – in the flesh. I see so much strength and honesty. You see, we are all creatures of habit and comfort and will take the easy road out 99.999 percent of the time. But you, Richard are not taking that easy road – NO, you have had enough and are changing your life – RIGHT NOW.” He points downward with intent to emphasize the ‘right now’ part.

               “Richard, look around you.” I take a quick glance over to see others with damp eyes and are seated in motionless awe. Are they compassionate? They sure do look like it.

               “Do you believe that no one cares about you? If you do…you’re wrong. I’m not a gambling man, but I would take that to Vegas and you and I could split the winnings.” Some laughter follows as I find myself cracking a smile.

               “Richard, you are too hard on yourself. And just like you and the rest of the world, we have this nagging voice in our heads – not like we’re actually hearing things, but more like its our own voice telling us that we are not good enough, we’ll never make it, we’re too fat, we weren’t supposed to win – whatever it tells us, we believe it. The only thing you need to do with this nagging voice is to STOP BELIEVING IT." He steps back for a moment, "I don't know what it is, but I feel like you have a great mission ahead of you in life. You were meant to be a beacon to those around you who need your help, what would you like to do in your life. I know there is a masterpiece of some sort you would like to build, what is it?."

I stand there for a good while thinking about it, then suddenly my world is better. How could I not see this before? Of course. I have always wanted to help others who are in my shoes and to give back. I never saw it until now. A burden has been lifted. I put the mic up to my mouth, "I want to create a university that helps people with problems like mine."    

Rocko's Killing Machine (Part Halo/Gummo Night)

Rocko’s Killing Machine is

Max = Drums

Riley = Rhythm Guitar

Charlie = Bass

Tom = Lead Guitar/Vox

Jake = Keyboard/Everything else

Josh = Extra buddy

Ted = Extra buddy

Carl = Extra buddy

Matt = Extra buddy

“THIS ISN’T ART!” Ted shouts out for everyone to hear as we watch this absurd movie that Riley wanted to show us. Laughter follows after Ted’s critique. Personally I don’t get what is going on here. So far we’ve seen a man in a rabbit suit smoking while crouched down on an overpass bridge while an old lady sings a folk song, and then these kids are trying to work out in someone’s basement while their mom comes down and starts to sing to them about how a tornado killed the people that used to live in that house all while she is wearing an eye patch, and then there is random footage of house cats…yeah I have no idea what is going on.

          “This movie makes me want to kill myself,” Matt says in a mild manner.

          “KILL YOURSELF THEN!” Riley blurts out to Matt very much peeved. Some are laughing in the room. “SHUT UP! I can’t hear it!” Someone else calls out.

          “There’s nothing to hear,” Another says followed by some snickering.

          “OK, that’s it. Let’s go back to Halo, c’mon. My house, my rules.” Josh says as gets up about to turn it off.

          “HEY! It’s almost over!” Riley says sharply while folding his arms.

          “Over? Nobody gets this movie but you.” Josh says as he hits the eject button followed by the lights coming back on.

          “I’ll fight you for it,” Riley stands up now.

          “Dude, hands down you know I can kick your ass. C’mon let’s just play some Halo,” Josh says with a reasoning tone. Riley disregards by trying to lean into him which of course is never a good thing, Josh is pretty built on top of being over six foot. Plus, he has Irish blood. He can definitely throw a mean left hook, but luckily for Riley's sake, he is really level headed.

          “C’mon Riley! Don’t start what you can’t finish!” Charlie shouts out. Riley is in a hold by Josh. They at first block the TV then work their way over to the side of the room with grunts and wheezing. Meanwhile, I lean in to turn on the machine and uncoil the controllers and the rest of us begin the game. Some playing start to lean in abruptly as if trying to dodge other characters in the game.

          “YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Shouts Carl

          “You’re the one who died,” Charlie laughs at him.

          “Hey did a Mark get a new motorcycle?” Someone asks.

          “What do you need that for when a normal bike will do?” Jake asks

          “Well it’s not that new,” I clarify then continue, “You have to kickstart it, that’s cool I guess,” Music comes on in the background.

          “Story of the Year! I love these guys! WHOA IN THE SHADOWS…”

More grunting continues with the lights flashing as a lamp gets kicked over.

          “C’mon Josh! Just knock him out already!” Charlie yells as she dies in the game.