I don't know where this ends, but I think I'll keep going

T-MINUS 12 YEARS, 3 MONTHS, 6 DAYS(OR SATURDAY MORNING AT THE RAT TRAP)

 By the time they reached the backdoor of the Rat Trap, Alias had ditched what turned out to be a blonde wig and had applied an ample amount of gel to her short, black hair. She stripped right beside Randy in the car instructing him to keep "Eyes on the road, pretty boy!" as she changed into a black leather miniskirt, knee-high boots, and an white T-shirt two sizes too small that hugged her boobs and read in bold, black block letters: WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? She quickly applied heavy eye shadow and black lipstick before she flung her car door open and jumped out on the street before Randy could even get the car parallel parked. Randy leapt from the driver's side and moved to accompany her.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Alias jerking her arm away from his hand. "Back off, Boy Band Reject! Keep your distance – as in restraining order 300 yards or more from me! I can't be seen entering the club with Captain Apple Pie All-American Flag Fag! I have a reputation to keep! You get in line like the rest of the scuds," she spat at Randy.

"Who are you?" Randy asked stunned. Alias made a sassy turn as she reached the backstage door and grinned devilishly.

"I'm DeathbySex. But in your case, it would be a mercy killing."

And with that she was gone.

Randy headed for the front of the club. Surely he would be recognized and let past the velvet rope without waiting in a long line.

"Who are you again?" asked the bouncer for the third time. Groans rose from the line behind Randy which he had jumped. Exasperated, he replied:

"I'm with her," pointing at a poster featuring DeathbySex sticking out a purple tongue while she shot a defiant bird at her fans, her fingers covered in magic markered upside down crosses and pentagrams.

"Sure you are, sweetheart," said the gigantic bouncer with a lewd grin. "You're definitely her type," he added with a wicked laugh. Randy pulled out his wallet.

"If you don't know me, maybe you know my friend, Ben?" he waved the Franklin across the bouncer's chest.

The Rat Trap smelled of sweat, puke, piss, poppers and some pungent odor Randy couldn't identify and actually hoped he never would. It was like a football locker room after facing off with your toughest rivals in a play-off after the whole team had spent the night before getting blind-eyed drunk, harsh lunged smoky, and had gone through both the first and second stringers in the local brothel. It reeked of failure, angst, and the kind of run-for-your-life fear prompted by a mean, knife wielding drunk. It was a place where you carried your wallet in your front pocket to keep it safe, but it didn't matter because hands came from everywhere still groping you often accompanied by a grunt of disappointment. It was every parent's nightmare which made it kind of awesome.

Ali - DeathbySex took the stage greeted by cat calls, whoops, jeers, and loud finger-in-mouth whistled.

"Eat shit and Die Motherfuckers!" she replied in kind.

She played heavy metal and punk rock as if possessed by demons, the bass from the speakers so intense it was like a drill sergeant screaming in your face. She stroked her Stratocaster like a porn star wielding a gigantic phallus as she musically masturbated over her audience – and the crowd went wild. At one point huffing out of breath, she lit a hand rolled American Spirit, sucking on it first to seal the paper, and took long drag. That was when she saw Randy up front.

"You." She said pointing. Randy took this as an invitation. Maybe he would have a chance to hit some licks with her on stage like he had at the Mercury, but when he hopped on the stage, DeathbySex pushed him back down into the crowd.

"That wasn't a special request, asshole! This is a solo act!" shouted DeathbySex. The crowd circled Randy and began to shove him back and forth. This was about to get ugly. Alias pulled a police whistle from around her neck and issued a shrill warning.

"Hey, the only one who kicks ass around here is me!" The crowd let go of Randy.

"DBXXX! DBXXX! DBXXX!" chanted her loyal followers backing away from Randy with a few final shoves.

"This song is called Loser, for Mr. Wonderful - Mr. Wonderfully WRONG down front and center who thought he could steal my thunder!" jeered DeathbySex.

I'VE GOT A BLUESY SOUL

AND ROCK N ROLL TOES

STICKY FINGERS

AND A MEMORY FULL OF HOLES

I'M FULL OF SCHEMES

WITH RAZOR SHARP HAIR

NO TRUTH'S IN HERE

BUT I'M FULL OF DARES!

I AM YOUR EVERYTHING

BUT I AIN'T GOT SHIT TO MY NAME!

I GOT PARTY MOVES

AND WHISPERS IN YOUR EARS

NOT MUCH TO SAY

BUT WHAT YOU NEED TO HEAR.

GOT LITTLE SENSE

BUT LOTS OF FIGHT

WITH A LOOSE TONGUE

AND A HELLUVA BITE!

I KNOW I MAKE YOU TENSE

WITH MY SECOND SIGHT!

CAUSE I AM ALL WRONG -

She dramatically paused to let the crowd jump in as they circled and shouted into Randy's ears:

"BUT YOU AIN'T SO RIGHT!"

I AM YOUR EVERYTHING

BUT I AIN'T GOT SHIT TO MY NAME!

Everyone joined in slamming into each other as they sang the refrain and Alias a/k/a DeathBySex played a guitar solo unlike anything Randy had ever heard. Her song resonated with her audience and judging from the choice of dates made by some of the females, it had more than a tad of ironic truth. Girls were screaming and hugging or hanging from the backs of their guys who slammed beer bottles against one another hard enough to shatter the cheap brown glass as couples celebrated their lack of accomplishment and poor choices in partnership. DeathbySex dropped her guitar to the floor to the sound of thumping drums and clashing cymbals and fell backwards off the stage landing on a sea of hands covered in the stench of alcohol and pot which propelled her to the bar where she grabbed a bottle of tequila, a lime, and some salt before they inched her back down the human conveyor belt built on gratuitous, thrill seeking fingers towards the stage until she was finally upright in front of Randy.

"That was amaz-" was all Randy got out of his mouth as she took a huge swig of tequila and spewed it in his face. She flipped open a pocketknife and smiled wickedly. The crowd refused to let Randy back away. She sliced and squeezed half of a lime over his forehead, so the juice drizzled into his stinging eyes, threw her head back, and doused her glittered lips with the saltshaker. Then DBX proceeded to literally suck face with Randy for the longest time licking tequila and lime juice off his cheeks, ears, neck, and lips.

By the time she finished with a belching encore of sticky, sweet sourness rasped into his astonished face, Randy was shaken and speechless. It was the most disgusting, shameful act anyone had ever done to him. He had never felt so demeaned in his life.

Nor so in love.