AFTER THE PERFORMANCE:
Man, what a show! We're all tired, sweating our ass off on stage and my neck is killing me but it was worth it from headbanging the whole time. Our fans were jumping, mosh pitting in the middle of the crowd and of course, all the women were exposing themselves by flashing us their breasts...Anywho, I'll skip the details right there. "WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT. NO! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT. WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT...ANYMOOORE!" Once again, Kirk and Lars were singing "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister. Not only that the song sucks ass, the way Kirk and Lars collaborating together, will make your ears bleed. Trust me, you wouldn't stand listening to them. "You two been singing that same ol' song for 50 times in a fucking row already! Jesus!" James shouted at these douches. Haha, thanks for shutting them up, Hetfield. "So, how about we go home while we focking party all night long!" Lars blurted out some ideas, about time. "Yeah, we should all do it as a little celebration. I said it as agreement of Lars's idea. "Good point, Danish baby!" James padded Lars's head. We call him "Danish baby," you know , he's Danish, short, has a baby face, and he whines sometimes...so yeah that's Lars.
ROAD TRIP:
Its already midnight?! What the fuck? I stand up and all I see is trash everywhere. I turned around from my left side is Kirk already sleeping with his undies while hugging his horror comics on the floor. Cute. Um, okay, I'll just let him have his beauty sleep. Ouch, I have this huge headache that's killing me. I remember earlier as we got home, I decide to order some pizzas, the gang decide to buy more boozes and play some loud ass thrash music. Hmm, I don't remember what happened next. That was it...I guess...I hear James and Lars laughing at something across the living room. I'll probably go checked on them to see what's the ruckus."Okay guys, what's so funny?" I was giving them a death glare. They both turned each other without saying a word. "YOU BASTARDS!" I lost my shit. "WHO THE FUCK DRUGGED ME?" They both glared at each other. "IT WAS HIM!" They said it at the same time. "For the love of god Cliff, it was my idea who drugged you on your Heineken, while you order the pizzas." James kneeled down to me with his blue aqua puppy dog eyes on me. Even Lars too with those big green eyeballs. "Okay, okay, I'd just wanted to know who did it, not a big deal, bros. Besides, I need to go to the liquor store to buy new packs of cigarettes." James and Lars nodded. "Do you guys want anything?" I asked. "Um, yeah Clifford- boy, get me one of those hot Fritos and a Gatorade." James answered. "What about you Lars?" "Get me a Gatorade too and remember, my Twinkies." I nodded. "Got it." I went upstairs to my room, I decide to wear my Misfits with my jean jacket as usual, grabbed my wallet from my dresser room, and heading out the door.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Trend On Me
أدب الهواةThe year of 1983 bass player, Cliff Burton from Metallica discovers that he'll never find love and will never meet a woman he's been dreaming of will not come true. Even though he's been focusing on his career with his band to show the world that th...
