Posted by NL on August 09, 2004 at 17:23:18:
Why They Killed-- Part 9
It was always my intention to become a big country and western star-- you know, write some songs, get famous, play guitar, get fucked up, go to prison, go to tax court, lose everything, get in rehab, kick the drugs and alcohol and make big bucks again with god saved me here, god saved me there, jesus this and jesus that. The whole nine yards, livin' something like the way St. Augustine of Hippo lived but in Nashville, with a lot more booze and broads. And they didn't have stretch limos in St. Augustine's day neither.
I had me a girl and I was struggling and writing songs but the project was just not moving along so good. I'll give you an example by singin' fer yew one of muh songs, that I wrote. And it goes like this:
I'm a big star with a big guitar
and if you get in my way I'll kill you
and if you fuck with me I'll kill you
and I just might kill you anyway
and you better pray I don't stick
a cheap guitar up your ass and kill you
while I keep my good fender telecaster
guitar and sing some more songs
and make a lot more money.
And then it ends with this nasty E5 power chord making feedback and the refrain:
Ohhhhh, he's a gwine to killlllll yeeeeewwwww.....
See, that song sums it up-- tough yet senstive and with an edge. Everybody likes that. But somehow my rhymes weren't good and I even bought me a rhyming dictionary but it didn't help because it was too complicated to figure out. Sometimes I'd ask my girlfriend to help me because she went to college but she was spending half her time on drugs and the other half dabbling in black magic. One time I was fucking her real hard and it was like she wasn't even noticing me, and I asked her, Glabella, why don't you even pay attention to me when I am fucking you? She said, Oh, didn't you know? I've learned how to go off and visit the Asshole Plane. What are you gonna do, eh? In a way I liked it when she went off to the Asshole Plane because she was like dead and I got off on that. But then she was either out of this world or so fucked up on drugs she couldn't help me find a rhyme. Like, on that song I sung for you, she said: why don't you end it with "orange"? Nothing rhymes with orange! That'll solve your problem! Shit, cowboys don't sing about oranges. Not even fake cowboys sing about oranges. And when I got to prison, if that part of my career trajectory ever took off, and sang about oranges I rectum my asshole would be just like an airplane hanger by the time I got out.
No, it seemed like the only thing I could do was sell my soul to the devil so I looked through some of Glabella's books and stole her athame and altar stuff one autumn evening when she was zonked out on percocet or something like that and I got buck naked and started chanting and drew a circle the way she did, pointing the athame down and like indicating how the circle goes. I fucked up right away because I couldn't remember clockwise or counter clockwise. Something got in that should not have gotten in. I kind of blacked out for just a little bit and then these two guys in shades and what must have been the most expensive shoes I've ever seen, they were shining like the sun! were standing next to me, with the biggest brightest smiles on their faces, and they were dressed like some guys I saw once in a record company building, getting on the elevator-- musta been entertainment industry lawyers or big shot agents. But these guys were bathed in light and looked cleaner and neater than any attorney I've ever seen. They looked almost exactly alike. One of 'em stuck out this hand and said, Hi there big fella, my names Knick-- with a "K"! And the other guy said, Yeah! And my name's Knack! Also with a "K"! But he didn't stick out his hand. I was sorta dazed. I took the guy's hand and it felt cool and taut and strong-- and supernatural clean. Knick said, You know what it cost me to do that, Bud? You ever shake hands with a cockroach? DId you ever WANT to shake hands with a cockroach? And Knack chimed in with: No offense man, but when you're from the ASSHOLE PLANE, like us, shaking hands with a creature like you is like wading through a big tank of diseased vomit! With pig shit floating in it! They never stopped smiling! I was so zonked! THE ASSSSSSHOLE PLANE! There really was such a thing! Yep! Knick said, reading my mind I guess, there really is an ASSHOLE PLANE, and it rocks, let me tell you! And I can tell you something else: that crazy stupid pathetic creature you think of as your girlfriend doesn't know a goddamn thing about it! HAHAHAHA! So inferior! That made me a little mad. See, I've got an attitude. It's very important to have an attitude. Let me sing fer yew this here little song I made up about my attitoood, dooood...
Oh, I've got a attitude that's real bad
& if I kill you I sure won't be sad,
on account of you must have pissed me off
somehow and made me real mad
and you just better pray I get real drunk
and forget about killin' yew which is what
it is I have thunk.
Well, that rhymes better than the other one. It trails off on a long sustained A5 chord and the refrain goes, fadin' away real spooky: OHHHH he's got one heck of an attitooooooooooood.....
Hold it, Junior, Knick sez, grinnin with those shinin' teeth-- he could talk and he could grin! And he even seemed to be chewin' gum!!! Look at the shoooooz, loook at the shooooz, they said together, chanting like, and I couldn't help myself! I HAD to look at their shoes, and it was like they were pulsing with light and ripples of light like on water, and I felt all dreamy and asked them where the HELL they got those shoes! I wanted a pair like that! Ohhhh, these are very special shoes, Dick, real special shoes from the ASSHOLE PLANE-- not only could you not afford them, you couldn't even begin to figure out how to ask for them. And Knack says, they are polished aluminum, Fritz, and rarer than the holy grail! We have many such wonders-- on the ASSHOLE PLANE!!! And then I could see their beautiful shiny teeth reflecting in their shoes and I felt such sadness, to be unworthy of such beauty. I said: your teeth! Your teeth-- they're so clean! So perfect! And Knack said, yes, our teeth are made of titanium and coated with a polymer finish that never needs whitening. We could chew our way through a chainlink fence, IF we so desired! Oh god, what if they decided to bite me! Cease to fear, mere mortal, said Knick. We can do nothing for your career, for it so happens that even among these walking dead, these putrid zombie things you refer to as human beings in this realm, you are among the lowest of the low, a total zoned-out fucking self-deceived deluded fool, absolute and to the core of your being-- a big fat zerio, with nary a cheerio. HEHEHEHE! Knick said, he means you don't have any talent. That's right! Knack said, but you CAN do something, something that would please many of us who dwell above, on the ASSHOLE PLANE. Right, Knick said. We are so goddamn highly evolved that it's a bit difficult for us to get our rocks off. We sort of have to go slumming, can you dig that. Yes, I could dig that. I knew what it was to go slumming. Great! Knack said! What we want you to do, is take that athame, and stab your girlfriend to death and fuck her corpse-- pull out her entrails, mutilate her tits, gouge out her eyes. Use your Imagination, Knick said-- we're sure you can think of something. Yeah, Knack said. And don't feel bad about it. Neither of you are worth very much. This is really the very best thing you can do with your life, and hers-- provide some entertainment for highly evolved beings. You always wanted to be an entertainer, right? Right?
How could I argue with that? Well, I did what they wanted, and gee, it was fun, although, knowing I'd never be able to have shoes like that gave me kind of a hollow feeling.
And that's why I killed. Blame it on--THE ASSHOLE PLANE!