breaking an entering – f-your blog

We’re The Worst Superhero’s of All Time

My Wife and I had planned a Road Trip to get Out of Town for a While and to take a break from Life’s endless Trial, Tribulations, and General Horseshit. We board Our 4 Large Rottweilers at a Boarding Facility a Couple of Towns Over from Our little Neck of the Woods. We Board them since 4 Rottweilers on the Road in a fucking Hatchback would be an Insane Undertaking.

We loaded Up the Dogs and hit the Road headed to a Town a few over from us. It was a pleasantly sunny Day but Hot as a Motherfucker with a Humidity Index of 90%. My Wife was Driving and I saw mindlessly staring out the Window checking out the Scenery as We drove along to Our Destination.

Far down the Road almost almost out of Sight a Black SUV looking Vehicle that had pulled up in front of one of the Many Abandoned Buildings that Dot the Countryside, and all of a Sudden the Vehicle took off like a Bat Ot of Hell with its ass on Fire. The Vehicle quickly disappeared out of Sight and We continued Our uneventful Drive.

The Next thing I saw was truly one of those things that makes You think to Yourself What The Fuck s That About. As I was blankly staring at the Thick Woods that lined the side of the Road I saw a Man with a Shaved Head, Shirtless, with a Homeless Floridian Panhandler’s Tan, and carrying what appeared to be a Military Type Duffle Bad Deal slung over His Shoulder. He stuck out like the Preverbal sore fucking Thumb since We were in a long and virtually uninhabited stretch of Road with a Few scattered Houses spaced Out along it.

The weirdest fucking thing was this Guy was Walking Out of the Woods towards the Road. This normally wouldn’t concern Me in the Least as I have said We live in the Boonies so Seeing a Hunter decked out in Head to Toe Camo standing on the Side of the Road or walking out of the Woods is just Typical around here. This Guy wasn’t a Hunter in fact for all intensive purposes He looked like a fucking Homeless Junkie.

Before I could even make comment to My Wife about the Strange Junkie Emerging from the Woods We came around a Blind Curve, and there was the Black SUV Vehicle that had come to a COMPLETE dead Stop as if it was in a Parking Spot at some fucking Walmart. Since it was a Blind fucking curve there was 20 feet between Our car goin 50 miles an Hour or so (The Speed limit is 55 on that road, but as You can imagine People drive even Faster because they can’t seem to kill themselves fast enough.) and the Unknown Vehicle that was again at a DEAD STOP. I had just enough time to say My Wife’s Name and then all We could do is Prepare for Impact.

Our Lives didn’t flash before Our eyes, It wasn’t like being in a fucking Movie, and Nothing appeared to go into Slow Motion. I a split NANO SECOND I saw the Vehicle and thought Holy fucking Shit Their not Moving, and then just simply the word Fuck then We collided with the Rear End of the Vehicle in Question. We hit so fucking Hard not only did BOTH Air Bags Deploy they fucking Exploded filling the Car with a think Cloud of Chemical Dust that smelled like Burning Plastic. The Hood of the Car was crumpled all the way back to the base of the Shattered Windshield like a Crinkle Cut Fry.

The Dogs thank fucking God weren’t Hurt as They slammed against Each other and collapsed in a Heap all accept for Mama Dog who had been sitting between the Front seats so She could see out the Windshield. Mama Dog came flying forward between the Seats Head First towards the Windshield, and I stuck My Arm Out like a Toll Gate catching Her before She smacked into the Windshield or the Dash Board. Our Ears were ringing, We were uncontrollably shaking a good Bit, and Spent the first couple of Minutes trying to figure Out if We were in fact Dead. Luckily We were alive and Not seriously Hurt.

My Wife excited the Vehicle by Squeezing Herself out the Car door that at this point barely Opened enough for Her to do so. I checked on the Dogs who were handling the Accident far better it appeared than We Humans. I then had to Crawl out of the Car Window since My Door was so jacked the fuck up it Couldn’t Open not even a Crack. The Other driver walked Over to Us as I slid out of the Car Window, and looked as in Shock as We did as Everyone’s Adrenaline was Flowing like the fucking Mississippi River after a Major Down Pour. The Entire Engine lay Exposed to the Sun tilted to the Left, Anti Freeze along with Oil and Radiator Water were Draining Out Every fucking where. There was Shrapnel consisting of the Front Bumper, Head Lights, and Various Extraneous Debris splayed out across the Asphalt.

We established No One was seriously Hurt and as We stood there in Shock to the Point No One could Figure Out what to do Next. We finally Mentally collected Ourselves enough to think some what strait and knew We had to call the Police and then Our Insurance Company immediately. Before We could call the Cops a Gnarly Fire Fighter Rescue Pick Up Truck pulled up Behind Our Vehicle. The Truck was fucking Huge even by Truck standards and had Flashing Lights on Top with the Station Number in the Middle of a Badge Insignia (1211 by the way). The Driver was a rather Big Fellow decked out in Navy Blue Cargo Pants, Shit Kicker Boots, Navy T-shirt with The Fire Rescuer’s Emblem on it, and a Navy hat also sporting the Fire Rescue Logo.

The Fire Rescue Fellow showed up so Fast like I said We hadn’t even dialed the Police as We all were still Badly Shaken Up by what had just occurred. It turned Out there was another Young Man not looking a Day over 22 with the Fire Rescue Fellow who jumped out, threw on a Florescent Yellow Vest like the Road Construction Crews wear, and crossed to the Other side of the Road to Direct Traffic as the Vehicle We Hit was still parked in the road blocking the Entire Lane.

The Next to Show was the Ambulance and the EMTS who We informed were not needed at this Time as No One was Seriously Hurt nor Requesting Medical Attention. I’d like to pause here for a brief second. I fully fucking Believe there should be a 24 Hour Medical Consultation Law that Allows Victims of Car Accidents a FULL 24 Hours to Seek Treatment POST Accident. This is due to the Fact that with all the fucking Adrenaline and Sheer Shock of it All People aren’t aware of Injuries at the exact Time o the Crash. I mean unless Your Unconscious, Profusely Bleeding, have a Broken Limb, or are Trapped in the Wreck People always Dismiss the Paramedics. Then later when the Adrenaline and its wonderful knifing effects wear the hell off You start to become aware of all the Sore Muscles, Bruises, Scratches, and Cuts that You incurred in the Accident.

Now Back to Our Story.

Its at this Point The Story takes an Unforeseen Twist when the Fire Rescue Fellow asks My Wife and I if We saw the Bald Junkie Dude run into the Woods with something and then Run back out again. We told the Fire Rescue Fellow What We had seen and then told Him that after Impact We were to fucked in the Head to Notice what the fuck The Junkie did or didn’t do. I then informed the Fire Rescue Fellow of what I had seen before the collision. The Fire Rescue Fellow informed us the reason He had made it onto the Scene so Fast was the Next Car to come down the Road after Our accident was in fact His Brother who called Him Directly to report the Crash and let His Brother Know some Guy had run into the Woods to ditch Who Knows What. The Fire Rescue Fellow then told Us He would remain at the Crash Site because and I quote “Theres something Not right about those Guys.” referring to the Occupants of the Other Car.

The Other Driver walked up and instantly the Fire Rescue Fellow asked Her straight up what was it that the Guy hid in the Woods. She of course says She has No fucking Clue who He is or That She was picking Him Up. She went on to say the Other Woman in the Car who looked like Your Stereotypical Meth Addict was Her Best Friend who She hadn’t seen in 6 months (More than likely because the bitch was doing a 6 month bit in County Jail), and the Guy was Her Boyfriends who again She had No Clue about. This is a Classic Drug Addict explanation as its full of fucking Holes. The Fire Rescue Fellow tells the Woman The Police are in Route, and He’ll have Them bring a K-9 Unit out if Necessary. She stuck to Her story and things progressed.

A Actual Fire Truck showed Up, but since there was No Fire (Thank fucking God) there was No Need for Them so They left for Somewhere They were in fact Needed. As The Fire Truck was pulling away the Local Sheriff Patrol Cars pulled Up. The Sheriffs made Sure We were indeed Ok and Prceeded to Help Direct the increasing amount of Traffic that was backing Up as The Sheriffs Closed BOTH Lanes simultaneously. The Sheriffs also made sure No One tried to Leave the Scene of the accident, and to Insure there was No Physical Confrontation between those involved in the Accident.

I’m not gonna lie as I stood there watching things unfold I had to fight the Impulse to Run Over to the Other Vehicle (which was a Jeep it turned out not an SUV), and Beat the Holy fucking shit Out of the Junkie Dude since it was essentially His fault. If His filthy Drug Addled ass was being picked up on the side of the fucking Road by His Drug Addict supposed Girlfriend and the Other Driver NON of this Would have Happened.

By Now the Few scattered People living out that way had made Their way from Their Houses near by to the Accident Site, and We the Coolest Bunch of People they were the kind of People that restore Ones Lost Faith in Humanity that’s for sure. Everyone of Them asked if We were Ok, if We needed Anything, and Brought Not Just Us but Our Dogs Cold Bottles of Water. No joking here but These Good Samaritans were as concerned for Our Dog’s Welfare as much as Ours which I found to be utterly fucking Awesome.

My Wife at this Point was on the Phone reporting the Accident to Our insurance Company as I tended to the Dogs making sure They had Water and didn’t try and Jump out of the Car during all the commotion. I called My Mother who is My only relative around these parts and asked Her to come over and Pick Up the Poor Dogs since it was Hot and Humid as Hell. The Last fucking thing We needed was for a Dog to suffer a fucking Heat Stroke from baking in the Car now turned Oven. Thankfully She was at Home and ready to lend a Helping Hand however it was needed. She arrived about 23 minutes later and My Wife and I loaded Up the Four Dogs into Her Air Conditioned Car.

It was also at this point the Sheriffs made sure Everyone Stood Roadside as the Woods were Now Off Limits to Anyone Who wasn’t Law Enforcement. The Highway Patrol was called in to Deal with the Actual Accident and would be arriving shortly. Also I nice Older Man who Lived about 150 feet from the Accident Site told My Mother She could park in His Drive Way which was Shady and would keep Her out of The Polices Way. I walked down to His Driveway and He came out of His Workshop (Turns Out He’s a Welder among other things) with a Big Bowl of Fresh Cold Water for Our Dogs.

Time Passed as the Three Ring Circus of an Accident was in full Swing, and I couldn’t take the Dogs Home because the Highway Patrol would want My Account of the Accident. So I stood in this Nice Old Guy’s Front Year watching the Fiasco for a While. Eventually the Fire Rescue Fellow walked over to Me and Informed Me that The Deputy’s (Yet more Law Enforcement) had arrived and were currently in the Process of Arresting the Meth Head Girlfriend Passenger in the Jeep We hit because She had NOT One, BUT SEVERAL ACTIVE WARRANTS OUT FOR HER ARREST. So She was Off to Jail. I again won’t lie this Delighted Me because it was Her Scummy Junkie Boyfriend they were Picking Up.

Apparently I was told that Each Law Enforcement Agency had its Own Particular Role in this Situation. As I said earlier The Sheriff was there for the Initial Assessment and to Keep the Peace. The Highway Patrol was there sole for the Accident, and the Deputies were there to Arrest The Junkie’s Meth Mouthed Girlfriend so there were a lot of motherfuckers with Badges.

Another Development had occurred while My Wife was still Maning the Phones like a fucking Champ, and I was keeping My Mother and Dogs company while chatting with the Nice Older Man and His Adult Daughter. It just so happened there was a Petty Thief that had been operating in their Area Breaking into Vacation Houses, Boat Houses, Garages, Tool Sheds, Workshops, and Vehicles to Steal whatever They could. THIS was the reason for the Fire Rescue Fellows Diligence, and the subsequent interest of the Various Police Departments in the Bald Junkie fuck I had seen walking Out of the Woods before the Accident.

The Police had been actively searching the Woods and had located several Stashes of Peoples Personal Property that the Bald Son of a Bitch had STOLEN and then since obviously He didn’t have a Car Hid in the Woods to swing back and pick up at a Later Date. Of course the Entire Time the Two Druggie Scumbags are Lying every which way to avoid the Increasingly good Possibility They BOTH would End up in Jail by the End of it all. With His Meth Loving Girlfriend was taken into Custody and He was put in Handcuffs He shut right the fuck up. And Yes in the End the Bald Bastard turned out in a Scooby Doo Twist to be the Piece of Shit Revolting Robber so He went to Jail just like His Meth Hooker Looking Girlfriend. As it turned out The Last Person this Scumfucks Junkie Robbed was as it turned out the Nice Older Man’s Place as His Daughter had conferred with the Cops, and Identified several items that belonged to Her Father.

The Highway Patrol finished up all the bullshit Paper work and Sited the Driver of the Jeep with a Ticket and Court Summons for making an “Illegal Stop”, returned My Wife and My Drivers Licenses, and told Us That We were in No Way required to show up on the Jeep Drivers Court Date, BUT if We did it would Help Them Nail Her to the fucking Wall. So Yes We are going I think it will be nice to be in Court and NOT being the Defendant and of Course FUCK HER THE BATSHIT BITCH. Fuck Up My Plans and I’ll Fuck Up Your LIFE.

Then My Wife got a Ride Home with the Tow Truck Driver who had showed up while We were with the Highway Patrol. I rejoined My Mother in Her car and Took the Dogs on Home at Last. The SOLE thing that gave this Shit Cloud a Silver Lining was when the Deputy Officer made a point of telling Us that Not to take it the Wrong Way, But as Unfortunate as Our Accident Was and Giving that No One was Seriously Hurt Had in Fact “Solved a lot of Problems for Us.”

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SO there You have it My Wife and I are in fact Superhero’s. Superhero’s without ANY Super Powers or Crime Fighting Weapons (like Batman). No We just Drive Around and Stop Crime by Crashing into Criminals. Then We simply Wait for the Cops to Come and Arrest Them. That would effectively make Us the WORST SUPERHEROES OF ALL TIME.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober (3)

Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All Part 6

April 15th: Malice arrived at their suite at the Hard Rock Casino in Mackinaw Michigan (which back in the infamous 80’s was considered on the same creative social scale as NYC or LA.), and waited for their newly assigned opening act by their record label Razorback Records.

While they waited Malice free based a Kilo of 91% pure uncut Columbian Fish Scale while simultaneously consuming 15 cases of beer, 19 bottles of Whisky, and an ounce and a half of PCP Laced Mushrooms, and ate 7 sheets of Acid (because waiting is boring so why not party your fucking face off they figured.) Plus the bands Lawyer TR McCoy and their Manager Harold Slickmann had instructed the Band to DO NOTHING while they worked out the issues with the Band’s current Record Label Razorback Records.

As for Razorback they needed to put a tour deal together fast as fuck. Razorback Due to the current disputes with Malice over creative control had lead abrupt cancellation of the remaining Tour leaving them in the lurch like a motherfucker. They had to finish out as many of the original Tour dates as humanly possible to avoid backlash from pissed off Malice Fans.

Now due to all the drama Razorback was unhappy with Malice and that played a part in their decision to hire The Assholes.The Assholes were at the opposite side of the spectrum from Malice.

Malice was a Glam Metal Band used to the luxurious life in LA being fawned over by press and fans alike for several months and had forgotten their entire lives previous to being famous. This I think most people can agree the massively exprbinte and copious amounts of Narcotics combined with Severe Alcoholism was/is to blame for the Band’s Unique Amnesia.

The Assholes on the other hand were a Trio from the Shitty Streets of the Shittiest Slums in Swansea Wales’s poverty stricken Industrial District. They grew up broke as fuck with Father’s that slaved away in the Various Factories or Sold Drugs. They had Mother’s that Worked 3 jobs cooking and cleaning (for the elite assholes living a life of splendor in the Huge Mansion’s in the Country) or Turning to Prostitution, Drink, and Drugs.

The only issue was The Assholes were currently on a Tour of their own with their fellow band The Squatters who hailed from Leeds and had similar backgrounds as the members of The Assholes. Not to mention the group’s singers met in the drunk tank one St. Paddy’s day after grossly over indulging in an obscene display of Alcohol throughout the day.

For this particular Tour The Assholes and The Squatters had combined both bands into one collective group they were calling The Asshole Squatters.

This lead Razorback to bend over backwards and take it in the preverbal metaphorical ass to put together. First Razorback had to hire The Asshole Squatters (not just the Assholes by themselves) because their management claimed it would be easier to promote the new 2 week Tour since two thirds of the audience already recognized the name.

Second Razorback would have to Pay the Appearance fee for The Assholes, The Squatters, and The Asshole Squatters as each group would be billing them separately. Razorback would also be financially responsible for their other expenses such as Travel, Room and Board. The Assholes also demanded that Razorback reimburse everyone involved in/with the last two weeks of the Asshole Squatters Tour that would be left ass out in lieu of The Assholes embarking on the new Malice Tour.

Razorback not having a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of had to agree to any and all conditions set forth by The Assholes or The Squatters. In the end the tiny new 2 week tour cost Razorback $12.3 Million in extra expenses.

April 16th: Malice had a pre tour meeting where they met The Asshole Squatters for the 1st time over Cocktails at the exclusive Club Pretentious. The meeting was a short one. The Members of The Asshole Squatters spent most of their time chugging pints of Guinness, doing Irish Car Bombs, Rough Housing, Head Butting one another in some Bizarrely Violent Drinking Game (which they themselves had created just a couple of weeks ago while on a brilliant bender.)

Malice sat back drinking Bottomless Hurricanes (with Mescal on the side) watching their new opening act getting Raging Alcoholic Type Drunk, and snorting massive rails of Cocaine off a gaggle of clamoring wannabe Groupie’s Tits.

The 2 Bands barely spoke to each other and as for The Asshole Squatters they seemed to be mocking Malice throughout the entire ordeal. It was hard for Malice to determine if the Asshole Squatters were indeed mocking the shit out of them or was this the classic absurd comedic Wit the British were known for.

Troubled by the shitty meeting Malice’s manager Harold Slickmann sat down to discuss the matter with The Asshole Squatters Manager Sly Slapper over diner (at The Lux Barroom and Fine Eatery mind you). Slapper’s take on the situation was it was just a case of “Clashing Ego’s”and it would be no problem at all. He assured Slickmann that the Tour would be nothing less than copacetic once the Band’s Ego Issues calmed down.

This was a boldfaced lie and Slapper the slippery shit was well aware.

April 17th: To insure there wouldn’t be any further issues before the start of the tour the following day each Band’s Manager spiked ALL the Band Members mandatory morning Bloody Mary’s (which were made with 191 proof Grain Alcohol or as its more commonly known Moonshine) with a heavy dose of Horse Tranquilizers .The intensity of the Moonshine did a wonderfully brilliant job at disguising the foul taste of the ground up Horse Tranquilizers.

This effectively rendered both groups unconscious for 18 hours straight.

When the time came the Band’s Personal Medical Team would hit them with a Epinephrine Shot via an Epi Pen, and BAM everyones awake, on their feet, and energetic like a Rocket Shot up their Ass.

April 18th: It was around 11 am when the Bands began to board their respective Tour Buses each suffering from a serious Horse Tranquilizer Hangover. It wasn’t until well past Noon that the Tour was finally on the road. The first show was in Saugatuck Michigan at the Tubular Theater.

Before the show even started the problems began. When Malice arrived at the Tubular Theater they were met the first problem head on. The members of The Squatters being arrested by Immigration Officers. Malice’s managed Harold Slickmann quickly jumped of the tour bus and made a mad scramble words The Squatters manager Sly Slapper.

According to Slapper the band was being detained and deported back to England to stand trial. The Squatters were charged with 117 counts of Vandalism, 91 counts of Destruction of Private Property, 88 counts of Destruction of Public Property, 351 counts of Public Drunkenness, 57 counts of Urinating in Public, 22 counts of Defecating in Public, 117 counts of Breaking and Entering (The band had a issue with breaking into Liquor Stores after closing time in search of yet more Booze), 144 counts of Public Nudity, and 121 counts of Indecent Exposure (The band also had an issue with having sex with Fans/Groupies in Public).

To make a shitty situation even shittier the Fans(who had been waiting for 16 hours straight) out front for the doors to open were well aware of what was going on, and they were getting more riled by the minute as they watched one of the bands they came to see being arrested at the concert venue.

Malice who had extensive experience dealing with amped up and angry Fans from some disastrous concerts of their own. They immediately put a plan into action as the inevitable Riot was building rapidly. Malice gathered up their instruments and amps aboard their tour bus, called in a massive Beer Order with a local Beer Warehouse a few blocks from the show, and lastly they grabbed a duffle bag containing 5 kilos (11 pounds) of Pure uncut Bolivian Blow.

The scene outside had gotten savage as the Show Promoter had already called in the Cops. Malice Fans were pissed off at the Asshole Squatter Fans for fucking up the show, The Squatters Fans were enraged that the Band was being Arrested, The Assholes were angry about everything in general, and all the Fans were mad the Police had been called.

The high level of surging emotions had given way to pushing, shoving, insults, violent threats, minor vandalism, and the start of empty Beer bottles being thrown around in random response to the current state of affairs. The Police had called in back up and as Malice got ready to put their plan into action the SWAT Team rolled in.

Malice slowly opened the Emergency Hatch located on the roof of the Bus and crawled out onto the Bus’s Roof. They then had their Roadies hand up their instruments followed by their Amps. Malice also had their Roadies hand up several Confetti Cannons they had brought on tour. Once on top of the bus with their gear and supplies Malice started to assemble their standard stage set up transforming the Bus’s Roof into an impromptu stage.

As soon as the set up was complete Malice started playing Misfit Covers as loud as their equipment would allow. This sudden musical onslaught brought the chaos and conflict to a stand still as the stunned Fans and Police Officers alike looked on.

Malice capitalized on this by announcing that this was now a FREE Parking Lot Show and then fired off their Confetti Cannons that they had loaded up with the Cocaine. A giant white wave exploded over the Audience with a lingering cloud behind it as everyone there went fucking insane.

The Police were just happy to have the Riot haunted so they let Malice slide on the whole Huge Cocaine Cloud (and assorted shit like that) just as long as they got the fuck out of town immediately following the Parking Lot Show.

And thats exactly what they did.

April 19th: Malice was contacted first thing in the morning by their current Record Label Razorback Records. Razorback was absolutely irate about the previous night’s show which was also the first show of a ad-libbed Tour.

Malice had their Lawyer TR McCoy step in as mediator on their behalf. McCoy stated it was fucking insane that Razorback was even angry to begin with. McCoy went on to say that Malice had nothing to due with the Show going to shit. Malice wasn’t the ones being arrested, their Fans weren’t the ones pissed off by the arrest, and if it wasn’t for Malice’s quick thinking under extreme pressure in an emergency situation had in fact ENDED the Riot.

Razorback being complete and total bitches switched the topic of the conversation to what they were going to do moving forward post riot. The tour they said would continue but because of last night fiasco being blasted across national television had been forced “due to circumstances beyond their control” cancel that nights show.

Razorback sited that the change was do due to “Unforeseen Expenses” complied with the exorbitant expenses used for putting the current Tour together in the first place was putting Razorback on the verge of filing Chapter 11 Bankruptcy. And because of the severity of the situation would require Razorback’s full and undecided attention putting the Tour on the back burner for a while.

You see the unforeseen expenses Razorback incurred were from a legal dispute between Razorback and The Squatters.

The Squatters claimed that since their arrest, and subsequent deportation was due to charges that were racked up from their previous Tour. And since the charges were not related to this Tour they deserved to be paid every single cent agreed upon by Razorback and The Squatters per their contract.

Razorback had to hire a full on legal defense team of Lawyers to handle the impending Lawsuit and their Counter Suite. According to their Lawyers Razorback considered their contract null and void as soon as The Squatters violated the terms, and thus were owed jack shit as far as they were concerned.

Malice’s Lawyer TR McCoy sighted a “Conflict of Interest” on Razorback’s part as far as Malice was concerned, and was planning to take them to court over it as soon as he got back to his office. Unbeknownst to Razorback at the time was that McCoy was already well at work putting a lawsuit against Razorback on Malice’s behalf. Malice was ultimately looking to terminate their contract with Razorback Records by any means needed.

April 20th: Malice curent Unnamed Tour with the Assholes was scheduled to play The Wicked Room in Grand Marais Minnesota. Once they Bands showed up there was an empty parking lot and a massive pile of what appeared to be charred bricks mixed with assorted rubble. There was a note from the Wicked Room’s Staff addressing the issue taped to a bottle of Croatian Rum that was standing atop the pile of aforementioned bricks and rubble.

The Note Read: To Whomever it may concern,

We the loyal staff of the Wicked Room have the misfortune to inform you that the Owner of the Club (Dolt Devonshire) ruptured a gas line in the basement, and blew the Club sky high while attempting to commit Insurance Fraud. So Sorry We know this Sucks.

With the nights Fans only moments away from the defunct venue the Bands had to figure out what the fuck to do. Neither Band wanted to relive the previous nights shit show nor could they afford any more shitty press.

Then The Assholes Singer “Bloody” Sod Bollocks announced that since Malice had saved their asses last night that tonight they would be repaying the favor. In all actuality The Asshole could have give 2 shits about Malice they just thought it was a proper venue to showcase their Hardcore Thrash Punk music. That combined with the fact The Assholes were chomping at the bit to play to help vent some of their built up frustrations.

Malice decided to take their Fans in attendance that were pissed off by the fact Malice wasn’t playing to an all night drinking binge at a local Dive Bar and Shitty Strip Club Called Beef Curtains.

Even though The Assholes acted like they didn’t give a flying fuck what Malice did they took Malice’s Stripper Boozelooza as slap in the face. They thought if Malice and their sniveling Fans didn’t care about the show well fuck them and fuck that.

April 21st: Malice spent the day at the Hotel Spa recuperating from their legendary hangovers, and The Assholes spent the day Drinking and Drugging like no tomorrow.

The 2 bands met up at that nights Venue The Radical in Bayfield Wisconsin. The tension was tenable as the Bands circled one another lingering like fucking Vultures waiting for their meal to finally die.

The Assholes went on first and played their first two albums (“Fuck You and The Finger” and “The Toss Pot Teachers”) in their interiority. The Band then went on to play 3 separate encores each consisting of 3-5 songs each. The Asshole’s finally played their closing song their current hit “Fuck Me Dead”. By then they had cut into Malice’s set by a good 45 minutes or so.

Malice was furious as they took the stage 45 minutes late. Malice used the show to mainly test out the audience’s reacting to some new songs they were coming up with for the New Album they planned to record as soon as they possibly could. Malice was sure to pepper the New Shit with some of their Big Hits to keep the Fans excited.

All in all the audience response was overwhelmingly positive as far as the new material was concerned. In fact Malice’s new Power Ballad “I’d Never Call You A Bitch Baby” garnered such a response from the Fan’s that they decided later that night that it would be the first single released.

Malice celebrated all night and into the following day until that nights show.

April 22nd: When Malice’s Tour bus rolled into The Spectrum in Elkader Iowa to find that The Assholes had already arrived and were in the middle of their soundcheck.

Malice walked into their dressing room to find it Trashed, Thrashed and Totally fucked. It smelled like a Truck Stop Bathroom mixed with a well used Locker Room. Every single piece of furniture (including the trash can) was busted and broken to pieces. The Catering table was upside down which was ok because it looked as if someone shit on the food platters anyway. Not to mention their toilet bowl was on fire reminiscent of a childhood campfire.

Malice’s blood boiled as they had fucking had it with The Assholes and their shittier than shitty bullshit. Luckily before all hell broke loose Malice’s manager Harold Slickmann arrived in the nick of time to prevent a brewing Shit Storm from becoming a Category 5 Shitnado. Slickmann swore up and down that if Malice played the show he would put and end to The Assholes dilemma.

Malice begrudgingly took the stage and the crowd went buck-fucking-wild sending Malice’s spirits soaring. The show was going exceptionally well until “Bloody” Sod Bollocks came staggering drunk as 10 Sailors (on well deserved Shore Leave) combined. Bollocks slowly made his way to the side of the stage just as Malice launched into (what they believed on audience response) was their new upcoming single “I’d Never Call You A Bitch Baby”

Once Malice got to the chorus of “…I’d never call you a bitch Baby” Bollocks armed with a Military Grade Bullhorn would yell at the top of his intoxicated lungs “Because I call you a cunt!”

Malice’s more than temperamental frontman Izzy Sane let Bollocks get away with his rude interjection twice but not a third time. Sane dropped his microphone, picked up the stand, swung it up over his head with both hands, and bolted to wards Bollocks like a Meth addicted Rodeo Bull. Once Sane reached Bollocks Sane brought the Heavy Metal Base of the microphone stand down on Bollock’s head like a Sledge Hammer.

The base of the Microphone stand came crashing down and slammed into Bollock’s head right above his left eye shattering his orbital socket, severely fracturing his cheek bone, and sending his eye shooting out into the audience. Blood started to pour out of Bollock’s freshly busted open head like a deep red river. Bollocks swayed for a minute before crumpling like a piece of paper to the ground.

Bollocks was unconscious, unresponsive, and there was blood now spurting out of the large gash in his head like a mini 18 inch fountain. One of the Stage crew sprinted to the phone and called 911. By the time the EMTs had arrived Bollocks was in the throws of full blown shock. The EMTs opted due to the severity of the injury and the patient’s quickly declining condition to to fly Bollocks to the nearest head trauma unit a Trama Hawk.

On the up side Malice’s Fans were so supportive they cheered Sane as they Fans were aware of the tenuous rivalry between the two touring Bands. Unfortunately for Sane the police were not so easy going and arrested Sane for Assault, Assault with a Deadly Weapon, and Attempted Murder.

The night ended with Malice on their way back to their hotel, and their manager on his way back to the Band’s Lawyer’s Office double time.

April 23rd: Finally the Tour to end all Tours had ended as doomed from the start. The Assholes had flown back home to England as soon as Bollocks was stable enough to travel.

Malice wanted to circle the wagons so they bought a 56 room Mansion located on 66 acres (for an estimated $151 Million) in the Hollywood Hills the day they got back in town. The Band figured it actually made the most sense since until then non of the Band members past or presently..

Malice members lived in hotels or on the Tour bus while on Tour or Traveling. In their down time Davie Scum was on the worlds longest Couch Surfing Run in known History, and Izzy Sane lived with his Girlfriend (and Malice Bassist) Maxi Padd in her tiny one room Studio Apartment. Rock Harder lived in a Shitty Hellhole of a Motel down by the by the Airport called The Wayfarers located between The Drunkard Tavern and Sparkles Strip Club.

It didn’t take long for Malice to move in as the members owned next to nothing outside of their cars. Meanwhile Harold Slickmann had sold his house prior to the last Tour and went and bought a $4.5 Million Luxury Executive RV. Slickmann parked his newly acquired RV in Malice’s extensive Drive Way where he planned to live indefinitely.

The Band’s Lawyer TR McCoy opted to sell his Penthouse so he could move into Malice’s new 10,000 square foot Guest House. McCoy felt with the forth coming barrage of legal issues that were about to defend upon the Band like The Anti-Christ surfing on an Avalanche.

The Band settled on the name “The House of Malice” as the official name of their Mansion Estate and set to work coming up with customized additions to the Mansion (example: Replacing the Water in the 100s of Fountains with Armand de Brigand Brut Gold (Ace of Spades) which cost $6,500 per 6 Liter Bottle.)

April 24th: Malice received an intensely aggressive call from their Record Label Razorback Records demanding a meeting immediately in their head office in the Van Nuys neighborhood. Malice piled into the Band’s 67 foot long custom Limo along with Slickmann and McCoy in tow.

When they arrived Malice was marched directly into Brock Rock’s office. Brock Rock who was the Owner and CEO of Razorback at the time. No sooner had Malice sat down Rock came charging in infuriated beyond belief with Razorbacks Legal Team right behind him.

Razorback started the meeting guns blazing. They were basically trying to blame all their costly fuck ups on Malice so they could sue them for reimbursement.

McCoy wasn’t having any of Razorback’s spastic bullshit fireworks. McCoy told Razorback that by neglecting their client Malice’s best interests by effectively booking substandard Opening Act(s) violated the terms and conditions of Malice’s Contract.

That combined with they fact that the failed second leg of the Mini Tour had totally tapped Razorback’s Bank Accounts so they wouldn’t be able to financially survive a long ass court battle before going completely bankrupt.

Razorback ended up releasing Malice from their contract as long as all disputes between both parties were henceforth Null and Void.

Malice was now a free Agent as it were.

McCoy had a glass of 70 year old Scotch.

Slickmann immediately started fielding offers from Competing Record Labels starting a furious Bidding War.

As for Razorback they did in fact end up going bankrupt, and Brock Rock was arrested for Embezzlement, Fraud, Insider Trading, Tax Evasion, and Aggravated Acts of Beastiality.

April 25th: Malice spent the day whole up in their Mansion reviewing various and plentiful possible future contracts from damn near every record label executive there was.

McCoy and Slickmann riddled down the Contracts to a Fianl Top 3 before involving the Band.

The 3 Top Contenders were Guillotine Records a relatively new up and coming Record Label that was racking up Big Name and Unknown Acts left and right.

Another was from Spittle Sound Studios owned by D-Rockafeller Recordings Inc. who was looking to expand their catalog and appeal by breaking into new musical markets. They were basically a Major Brand Record Label in Indi Clothing so to speak.

The Final Contract was from an International Record Label called The Nation of Noise Records (who’s HQ was located in International Waters on a retired Cruise Ship). They had been around for years, but never signed any act anyone would give two shits about like the Country Disco Jug Band Legend Howie “Pork Knuckle ” Pounder.

After serious deliberation along with a crate of Whisky, 26 Cartons of Cigarettes, a Pound of High Grad Marijuana, and 8 sheets of High Test Acid on Guillotine Records signing a 5 Album Exclusive Deal.

Malice celebrated the Deal by Buying Ferraris and the hosting a Demolition Derby Party that went late into the night, and the Police only showed up 41 times for Noise Complaints and all that horseshit.

A good night was had by all.

April 26th: With a slew of new songs and material Malice and in great spirits ,and (after finally ending their troubled relationship with Razorback Records) having just signed a sweet ass deal with Guillotine Records headed into the Studio to get working on their new album.

Tragedy struck the Band once again while wailing on a wild Guitar Solo for the song “Sweet Heart, Wicked Soul” Davie Scum played so fast that his guitar caught on fire quickly consuming Scum in the blaze. Considering how flammable the cheap Spandex adorned with Chinese Dragons, and the entire bottle of Aqua Net Scum used to style his hair it was no real wonder why he combusted so quickly.

Luckily for Malice they were finished recording their new new album titled “Finding Heaven In Hell” so all that was left to be done was Editing the Recorded songs.

Malice had to pay the $17,890 cleaning bill for the Studio to clean off all the smoke stains and little BBQed pieces of flesh from the walls, floors and ceiling (Not to mention they had to Neutralize the Oder of a still smoldering Human Body)

When Slickmann heard the news he grabbed the extremely large 3 ring binder filled with Musicians Resumes he had created due to the fact Malice Members had a bad habit of dying, and granted a couple left to purse other pursuits.

By the end of the day Malice had completed their new 19 song album, edited it, lost their Guitarist to a freak guitar playing accident, and interview the top replacement Guitarists.

That night around 4 in the morning suffering from a drug fueled insomnia Malice selected their new Guitarist Stevie “The Shill” Stevenson who had played with such acts as Murder in Minutes, Killing Trolls, The Lot Lizards, and the Legendary Black Metal Band Nordic Slaughter.

April 27th: While waiting for their new guitarist Stevie “The Shill” Stevenson’s to arrive at the studio (he was flying in from his Private Island Shill Key in the Florida Keys that afternoon) Malice realized that they in fact not only recorded their new album in one day, BUT they had 87 other songs on tap.

With this revelation Malice felt they had only one choice, and that was to release a DOUBLE ALBUM. Malice then spent the morning listening to all 87 songs before selecting 22 songs that would make up the second Album titled “The Hardships of Hell”.

By the time Stevenson made his appearance at the studio Malice realized while now that the Double Album they had recorded 41 brand new tracks they still had 46 additional songs.

So Malice thought about it awhile before coming up with the idea of releasing a rare TRIPLE ALBUM, and set out selecting which of the leftover 46 songs they would use. They came together and agreed on this Albums title would be “From Heaven To Hell and Back Again” consisting of 17 songs and 4 singles. The singles the Band decided upon were “Into The Night We Go”, “After Party Freak Show”, “Dive Bar Babes”, and “Lets Get Laid”

When Stevenson arrived he pointed out that Malice still had 29 songs left at their disposal, and suggested Malice release the World’s 1st QUADRUPLE ALBUM. And of course Malice lost their fucking minds over the idea. In return for such an awesome idea Malice rerecorded the last set of 29 songs with Stevenson so he’d be credited for playing on the Album.

Malice even let Stevenson pick the name of the 4th Album and he dubbed it “Entering Heaven/Exiting Hell” sticking with the ongoing theme of Paradise and the Pit.

Malice partied into the early hours of the morning doing Actual Tequila Shots (that is they drew up Tequila in 6cc syringes and injected it directly into their veins.)

April 28th: Malice’s Quadruple Album was an instant success as rabid Fans bought out Record Store after Record Store across the country. The Media Buzz was deafening as Malice’s Phones where rigging off the hook like a real motherfucker. Reporters of kinds camped out in front of Malice’s Mansion Estate gates leading Hardcore Fans to follow suit creating a sizable tent city situation.

Malice spent the entire day lounging around Mtv hanging out, day drinking and acting as impromptu Guest VJs (not to mention banging groupies during commercial breaks or when a video was airing)

By the end of the Business Day Malice’s World Wide Album Sales totaled an estimated $976 Million. The one day success gave way to the rumor that The Chairman of Forbes reportedly shit his pants when he saw the numbers the following morning.

April 29th: Tickets for Malice’s upcoming Tour to promote their Quadruple Album went on Sale at Noon Sharp and 6 seconds later every single American Date of the Malice was completely Sold Out. Which totally blew the tits off of Guinness Book of World Records.

Now Malice was at task scheduling Shows for the subsequent following World Wide Tour. For inspiration the Band went to their Restaurant Take Out Menu drawer. After a few minutes skimming over the large collection of Take Out Menus Malice had set up dates in Thailand, China, India, Mexico,Italy, and Japan.

Malice used the rest of their spare time to practice relentlessly with their new guitarist Stevie “The Shill” Stevenson, and over indulging in Hedonistic pursuits.

April 30th: Malice went to down customizing their recently acquired Mansion and Estate. First they had a 4 operate Helicopter Landing Pads one for each of them. Next they turned 2 of their 66 archers into a Mobile Home park loaded with Triple Wides for their Friends, Roadies, Mansion Staff, or as a crash pad for party guests who were to shitfaced to drive.

Izzy was a devoted movie fan so he used 12 archers to build his own Independent Movie Studio he called Ponder This Pictures and Perverse Productions. The Studio was intended to be a stage for struggling independent film makers to help them achieve their dreams. In the end though it sat virtually unused accept for the filming of some extremely high end Homemade Sex Tapes/Full Blown Porno Flix.

Stevie took 5 archers and build a pond so that he could stock it with some of his favorite fish like Alligator Gar, Giant Snakeheads, Electric Eels, Wells Catfish, and Giant Carp just for starters.

Rock used 7 archers to build his own Amusement and Water Park complete with the motto which was “Neverland is for PopStars”.

Maxi used 1 achar to build a massive Temperature Controlled Greenhouse with a high tech Sprinkler System. She billed as an attempt at Sod Farming. She also took another 4 to built a Small Farm where she had several Cows. At night Maxi would let the Cows graze in the Greenhouse where inevitable Cows being Cow’s would crap all over the fucking place. She claimed it was a trade off of Free Cow Feed and Free Fresh Organic Manure. In reality the set up was designed to be the perfect growing grounds for Magic Mushrooms (or Shrooms for shirt).

Other custom additions included seeing up a professional fire work rig on the roof, indoor and out door shooting ranges, ATV Trails, Skate Park, Pirate Ham Radio Station, NASA Flight Simulator, Hi Li Court, installing water fountains rigged with Goldschlager (with its original Alcohol Content of 53.5% or 107 Proof), A Reptile House, 30 Run Dog Kennel, Racing Track, Driving Range (because hitting the shit out of the ball is the only fucking fun part of Golf so fuck the bullshit), Wave Pool, Bocce Ball Court, and 24k Toilets/Urinals encrusted in Gem Stones (“Crapping like a King” as their manager Harold Slickmann would say.

April 31st: Malice dedicated the day to preparing for the “Salvation and Damnation Tour” by rehydrating with IV Fluids, Laid off the Narcotics in favor of just Smoking Weed, Only Drank Light Beer, Getting 8 hour massages with 45 minute “Happy Endings”, Meditating, forgoing Sex for Blow Jobs, and Blood Doping.

MALICE: THE BAND THAT ALMOST KILLED US ALL PART 7 COMING SOON

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Its All A Matter Of Perspective

I just bought a new property somewhere in Podunkville East Cackalacki and hired a new contractor (not new per say he’s worked with my family on a myriad of projects, but this is the 1st time he will be working with us) named Rock EnRoll. When I was returning home I texted Rock the following text:

“The side gate by the pond in open”

All that meant was exactly what it said as its only value is face value.

Rock called back in less than 90 seconds and was all worked up talking so fast all I heard was his thick as tar southern accent. I was a tad bit stoned and rather exhausted so I handed the phone to my Wife stating to Rock she was the one who locked the property up.

As it turns out Rock doesn’t text and a rule of thumb is you shouldn’t text Rock. This is because in this small part of the country people keep their fucking cell phones in their pockets out in public (that includes placing their phone on table as if to say, “I swear I won’t check it every 2 fucking seconds to see if I got a text or a fucking FaceBook like for the picture of my goddamn dog in a cowboy hat.”) Now due to this technology differential Rock, among many if not almost all, have no idea or concept on/for interpreting the context of the text. I’ll explain.

Rock received the text, read it and interpreted it as some James Bond 007 super secret 911 code for an emergency AND he needed his help immediately. Why did he draw this conclusion I have truly no idea to be blatantly honest.

I mean when Rock read it did he possible think one or more of the following issues was at hand:

My Wife or I had had a severe and most likely life threatening accident.
There were hostile renegade poachers attacking from the cover of the woods.
A Home Invasion was going down complete with guys in ski masks and machine guns
My Wife and I were battling insane Moonshiner’s over still site(s)
Ali Baba and his 40 thieves were attempting to steal shit.
Wife and I were being “TAKEN” by Liam Neeson.
Wife and I were being abducted by Aliens.
Viciously rabid woodland creatures were surrounding my Wife and I.
The house was engulfed in flame and my Wife and I were stuck upstairs.
My Wife, The House and I were being swallowed up by a sinister sink hole.
Leatherface was running at us with his Chainsaw revving up like a fighter jet engine.
The Hills Have Eyes.
Cannibals were trying to kill us and turn us into BBQ.
Bigfoot was real and holding us hostage.
My Wife and I were in fact secret agents for the CIA and were being targeted by either the drug cartels, mafias, gangs, terrorists or foreign evil governments, and needed impromptu assistancte/help.

That though is only the first part, the second being the gate open part. If we were in fact in immediate danger of some sort why the hell didn’t we say so?! You’d think in an emergency we’d texted “HELP!”, “HELP US”, “911 EMERGENCY!”, “ACCIDENT! Need Help” or “Come Quick we’re in life threatening danger!!” but I didn’t text anything remotely like that that could be misinterpreted or at least that what I thought when I sent the text.

What about the gate being open?! Did Rock think this message of the gate by the pond is open was code for “Help Us, Come Quick! the side gate is open so you can access the property and swoop in and save us from whatever the hell you think the trouble is!”

Well I will never know how a simple one sentence text was thought to be a coded plea for help in a direly dangerous and potentially violent emergency , BUT I did learned my lesson, NO MORE TEXTING ROCK.