Death's Door presents the Bar Years
Back “in the day” when I bounced at night and worked at the music store I had a few adventures and shit. This highlights just a few of em.Tuesday, November 02, 2004
don't drink and play with sharp objects
I’m sittin here at work and for some odd reason I’m on the Internet, go figure. I’m goofing around and I type in the work “Arhooly”. Not only is that the name of a record label but it’s also the name of a blues band from the Carolinas. Years ago back in the early eighties I dropped into Parody Hall to check out a new band I just heard of. The band was Arhooly and they were fronted by “Shelia” the badass blues singer. Tall, red hair and big tits, and could sing her ass off. For some reason that night Shelia thought I was the proverbial “cat’s meow” and after the gig I got to hang with her and the band in the “tour Bus”. The bus was so cool, it was an old Greyhound bus from the sixty’s and was fitted out in the rear with a full size round waterbed. Each week on the road a different member of the band got to share the bed with her, or so I was told. But between you muthafuckers and me, that was the happiest band I’d ever seen so you figure it out. After the gig we all crawled on the bus and got to knockin em back. The band had the bus parked in Nicholson’s Restaurants parking lot and nobody was gonna bother us so noise was no limit. To this day I still haven’t figured this one out and maybe it was a sign of the times. But that night me and all the guy’s in the band had switchblades. Big nasty old school cut shit open switchblades. The shit we did when we were young. We’re sittin on the bus with the stereo blasting blues and we’re passing around bottles of Wild Turkey. Check out the game we’re playin, every time a cat takes a drink from the bottle he has to flip his knife and catch it by the blade. The cat who can flip his knife the most times wins! I never said the fuckin game made sense. I guess I won; I threw the knife up and flipped it like a circus freak. The only thing different that happened was me catching the knife in the palm of my hand, sharp point down. Next thing I knew I’m sittin there suckin Wild Turkey down and Shelia’s straddling my lap tryin to pull the knife out of the palm of my hand. Yeah, I caught the damn knife all right.
Peace
It went straight through the palm of my hand. As I’m typing this I can faintly after all this years still see the entry scar. Well I ended up stayin drunk on that bus all weekend. I lost some blood, some brain cells and a day or two of work but I dig it. When I typed in the word Arhooly I actually found Sheila. She’s livin in South Carolina still shouting the blues. I dropped her a line to see how she’s doing, she’s slowed after all this years and gotten off the road. But she remembers those days with no regrets and that a good thing.
Peace
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Name: Greg Beck
Home: first bar stool to the left, make mine a Beam & coke please!, United States
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Previous Posts
- UNCLE DEATH
- WHITE DOPES ON PUNK
- VAN DEATH
- WEST TEXAS ROADKILL BAR-B-QUE
- THE COSA NOSTRA DONKEY SHOW
- HOG TIED THE MONKEY GIRL
- PYROTECHNIQUES
- COCK-TAIL?
- THAT POOR BASTARD, THE CAMERAMAN
- ALMOST HAD A FACE WITHOUT EYES
time till my fuckin birthday and my sac drops another inch!
