Paranoia And Stress In The Attic

"We had blitzed Dublin with posters for this one. Justin met Big Al early to settle a bet. Big Al had bet him he wouldn't cut his hair. Justin bet he would. It was weird to see Justin with short hair for the first time in seven years. Then they went to the Off Licence and bought their fill of booze. They spent the day drinking outside Leinster House, the home of the Irish Government. Everybody met in the Attic about six o'clock. First up was the Old Scratch backdrop, taking pride of place behind the drums. Mike had some black squeedgy with him, which he and Justin divided and ate. It was quite an ordeal to sit through the Frank Mammoth set. Featuring Peter on drums for the first time, they set about playing one song: Misery: Seven Headed Dragon. "Roar to the east!" yelled Big Al. "Roar to the west!" screamed Swag. "Roooooooaaaarrrrrr!" they yelled in unison. 

By the time they were done and it was time for our show, Mike walked slowly up to Justin. "I can't feel my hands" he said. Justin couldn't help him though, as he was experiencing serious mental trauma of his own, resulting in severe paranoia. The squeedgy was taking full effect. Mike had to gotten a chair to sit on, he could barely stand. The show started well enough, but soon the cracks started to show. It was taking about two minutes to start each new song. Justin wasn't coping well at all. Wassie was also undergoing a crisis of sorts, having quaffed a heroic amount of booze before (and, indeed, during) the show. All through the show Big Al and Swag had been giving grief to Wassie. It came to a head as What's Your Name? began. What started as friendly slagging deteriorated into pure hatred. Wassie left the stage, then left the building, followed by Big Al and Swag. Onstage, Justin and Martin resolved to carry on with the show. Diamond Dave lamentably came up and finished the set, venting years of downtrodden frustration all the while. Actually, it was beautiful. Diamond Dave seizing the chance to verbally gain revenge against all the people who had knocked him in the past.. and there were quite a few. Friends and family, all got their comeuppance. Mike just sat there, Stephen Hawking-like, helpless and alone “Blue Moo-oon”. They spent the rest of the evening at the beach, hallucinating and unable to comprehend what had happened and what was happening. It turns out the squeedgy was laced with acid. 

<<