French Benefits

12/ Storm To Pass

* DISCLAIMER: Contains explicit language, drug use, violent references, sexual content.

Tuesday · March 6, 2001 · Rochester, New York

Later after the show, all 17 of us were hanging out in a large V.I.P. area of the venue. With Pantera, after every show it's a huge party and if you weren't joining in, you were gonna have a bad fucking night.

I got drunk with everyone else and not much later, Dime had come up with a game of 'throw the slime on the posters and if it lands on a body part, you take a shot'. So far, we were four bottles of liquor in and no one seemed to be in a foul mood.

Currently I'm sitting here with Chris in deep talk about how he came up with the idea for his mask. We shared a laugh and I got up to get another drink from across the room.

As I walked by Dime, he smacked me on the ass harshly which made me scream and smack his arm. "What was that for?" I asked and he laughed in my face.

"Your turn!" he screamed and put that nasty slime in my hand. I threw it towards the picture of the naked woman on the wall and it hit right in the middle of her chest.

"Yeah, score! That's a Black Tooth Grin, baby!" I said as I got in Dime's face. He only continued laughing and he mixed me a drink.

After another hour of that, almost everyone was passed out. The only ones still awake were myself, Sid, Phil, Corey, Chris and Sam.

We were all getting a bit slowed down and just kinda sitting around drinking and talking. I walked over and searched Dime's pocket and found the glory.

"Aha!" I said as I held up a joint. I looked for my lighter but couldn't find it anywhere. Sid offered his and I thanked him. Lighting the fat joint and breathing in deeply, I felt the instant relaxation flow through me.

I exhaled and passed it to Sid who gratefully took a few drags from it before passing it on to Corey, then Phil, Chris, Sam, and so on.

I walked over to the few guitar cases that were on the other side of the room and pulled out an acoustic. I got weird looks from everyone as I did so.

"Phil, come help me out." I sat on a couch and started strumming the chords that I haven't played in many years.

Phil then walked over quickly grabbing another acoustic from its case and sitting down across from me, strumming in sync with me. I smiled up at him and he returned it, with a hint of something else behind his eyes. My drunken mind can't pick it up.

Phil and I wrote and performed a few songs together back in 1995. After playing one of them earlier, with my already weird emotions that haven't ceased flowing through me for a few days so far, I just felt like I needed to play them again.

"Ran into an older me. Knew I wouldn't like what I see. They mistake your kindness as weakness / Just like my favorite dog with a broken leg. Wanted the sun but got stuck in the shade.." / 'Come back and let me in.' "Going down the wrong road." / 'Come back and let me in.' "Going down the wrong road." / "Cannot turn it into something right, but you can direct it into the light. / Just another kick to get some dick invisible love as you fuck it above, just closing my eyes. / The bad seed isn't too exciting to me. Drags you down to something you don't want to be. / So I turn myself to stone so I'm all alone, the story is old. / 'Come back and let me in.' "Going down the wrong road." / 'Come back and let me in.' "Going down the wrong road." / Those whispers you heard and saw. Haunting moments you had with that one marching devils by their side. / Ants on carcass, watch them collide. A wall built around my self-defense. / Shut yourself, demand it to end, it never began. / 'Come back and let me in.' "Going down the wrong road." / 'Come back and let me in.' "Going down the wrong road."