Rats for Breakfast

I was attending a TOP SECRET high level meeting with the Patriots Militia in a fortified underground bunker one night (ok, we were drinking at the bar) when I was informed of a possible Tunnel Rats recording session the next morning. After expressing my disbelief that they would actually show up and record, I was assured that it would indeed be taking place. Not only was it going to take place but also I was invited along to witness the historic event!

How could I possibly say no? The Tunnel Rats are like cicadas...they only come out (what seems like) every 17 years and it always becomes an event of immense terror and destruction with Bible thumpers running for cover. I would be letting down all of my fellow journalists if I were to pass up such an opportunity to witness history in the making.

Ok, ok. As you all know by now, I'm not, nor was I ever a journalist...but it sounded good. Either way, I was going to be there! I then asked what time I should show up to (hopefully) witness the raping and pillaging of music world as we know it. Someone mentioned something about starting at 9am and then everything went black....

The paramedics in the ambulance told me that I had laughed so hard that I started convulsing, blacked out from the lack of oxygen and hit my head. Hey, what's one more concussion at this point, right? Right? Ok, back to the story. What was I writing about? Peaches and Herb? Blondie? With a cow?

Moving on...

After being discharged from the hospital that morning I had headed home to grab Billy and head over to the studio. To my absolute and total surprise we were the first ones to arrive. After waiting a few moments I realized that it might be wiser for me to find a non-metered parking spot for my truck so I didn't go broke over the course of the day. After some searching around I found a little side parking lot and stored the truck there for the day while relishing in the fact that the Skunk-Bitch-Meter-Maid-Nazi couldn't do shit about it!! Ha ha! Chalk one up for Dennis Casey!!

As we wandered back to the studio we noticed what looked to be a human-like form slithering towards the front door. As we got closer we realized that it was the legendary Duke Crevanator! He looked much smaller and less bloody in person. Undeterred, we got the requisite pleasantries out of the way while I tried to avoid his stale beer and cigarette breath while we headed in to the studio. A few minutes later a few other leather-jacketed lumps of suffering joined us inside. It was right about then that I heard the studio doorbell go off. Someone was trying to get in. While I was trying to figure out who it could be at this time of day a pile of hangover asked me to go outside and see who it was and (possibly) let them in. As I walked out into the hallway, I saw a vision!

Wimpy (of The Queers and Jabbers fame) was standing there with his arms full, kicking at the door and yelling "Don't just look at me, let me the fuck in you dumb sonofabitch!!"

I scurried over to the door as per my instructions and opened it up for him. I politely asked him if he needed a hand with his packages and he said "Nah, it's just breakfast."

I stood frozen in awe.

"Breakfast" was a 30-pack of Budweiser in each hand and a bag of stale bagels under his arm.

While gazing at Wimpy with the beer and bagels under his arm it suddenly became so crystal clear to me. After years of aimlessly wandering the earth I had finally found my people! I still get emotional just thinking about it.

After my epiphany, the rest of the day went as you would expect. Everyone was drunk by noon. Many, many tremendous songs were put to tape and fun was had all around.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I also lost my truck.

Seriously.

How I originally lost it, well it had to have been the firewater. The devil's elixir! It certainly couldn't have been my fault as I am a fine (and sometimes) upstanding member of our society.
I know that I had to grab a cab to go home but I still should have been able to remember where I had parked my truck. I did go back the next day to try and find my truck because the thing does tend to come in handy but it was nowhere to be found.


You may ask...why couldn't I find my vehicle in downtown Portsmouth? It's plain and simple...I'm retarded. Downtown Portsmouth is only about 4-6 square city blocks in size with few obvious places to park a vehicle. In my defense it does have plenty of nooks and crannies to park in around all of those rich bastards condos. While searching for it the 2nd day I miraculously happened to glance over my shoulder as I wandered by a small parking lot and there it was! There were no tickets on it or anything! I was a happy man and so was the wife. She hadn't been too impressed with my actions up to that point and we'll just leave it at that.

And so ends another thrilling adventure of booze, bagels and punk rock.