Just after midnight in some bar deep in the north, a crowd is hungry; they serve shots all around. A local band just played its last gig and the club roars for more, “where’s that encore?”
Somewhere in the mosh a local man with nothing to say downs a fifth of tanqueray and a bad idea is born. “Look out, get out of his way! Shittered and stumblin’ his confidence is synthesized like the Tragically Hip and Johnny Cash songs that run through the synths in his mind. Nevermind, he’s headed for the stage. Belligerent and bold, he storms through the herd and corners an acoustic guitar. He raises it up just to destroy it over a speaker spewing out a Kendrick record.
“Turn up that Bass, I got something to say!” he screams melodically into the void.
This dude is armed with a computer and Telecaster in one hand and a shot of Wiser's in his right. Frozen in time; the room lives in his eyes. “Pin drop? I heard that!. How about one more drink with me, Tabarnak?” He yells as he slams a drink back. Buddy staggers up to the mic, has a quick dart, rolls up a joint then leans in and whispers, ”dadbOdd, no shit they laughing”.