Hey, fockers. Bonesaw and I went to see a death metal concert the other night in Austin with our much uglier and lesser-talented friend. I don't like to name names, so let's just say his first name started with "P" and the end of it sounded like "eet".
The swirling pit of moshing bodies pulled me in like a tractor beam. I could not resist. It called to me, "Satan loves you. Come join us in our descent to Hell!" I asked my smokin' hot ho to hold my iguana skin jacket and jumped in.
It wasn't long before I got pushed to the floor and the lustrious lure became more of an annoying shriek like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman screaming because the fire alarms were going off in his house. Then my left shoe flew off.
I escaped with my life, but not my shoe. Bonesaw scoped it with his scopes a while later and jumped in to rescue it.
I got home with a big boot print on the top of my left foot.
Metal.
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