I had no idea how long I had been inside that Kenmore Refrigerator when I woke up, my drool completely stuck to an ice cube tray. It could have been a week, but was probably more like six hours. I had spent the night before dying in the humid summer swelter of whatever crapbox town this was. I can't even remember what band I rode in here with. Was it the Goo Goo Dolls? No, those guys are posers. Was it Alice Cooper? I wish, but he won't answer my calls anymore since I told his wife I'd like to stroke her with my golf club. Maybe it was Journey...yeah, that's it. Journey.
Anyway, after the show I decided to head down into the labyrinth of a state fair that Journey had just rocked with their sweet early eighties power ballads. I had made it as far as the Pamida parking lot when I realized that I was completely sober for the first time in seven months. And that just isn't right. The last time I'd been sober was when I was touring with Jars of Clay, and all I could do was get drunk off of cooking wine. I couldn't drink again for a week. That crap is so salty it sank my eyes into my head making even scary old men with similarly sunken eyes run from me in fear. During that week I toured with Slipknot. That was fun.
Back to being sober in the parking lot: I was pissed off, how dare I let myself be normal?? I looked around and for some reason there was a fridge sitting next to a truck by the Casey's gas station next door. This confused me. "Maybe I'm not sober, maybe I'm so drunk that I'm thinking that I'm sober which in turn is causing me to then ponder if I am in fact drunk." I said this out loud, and when hearing the words and completely complex sentences that had past through my lips and soaked into my ear drums, I quickly freaked out. I was sober, and this was scary. I took a few minutes to lie crying softly in the fetal position right there in the Pamida parking lot. Then I got up, ran across the street and climbed inside that fridge. I figured, if it's not full of anything that can kill me, then at least it's like my mom, cold and unusually pale.
The next thing I knew, I was stuck to the ice cube tray, and for some reason there was a guy talking really fast, banging a gavel every minute. I thought I was back in court. The last time I was in court was for stealing Snoop Dogg's car and writing "Murder was the case that they framed me, bitch" on the hood. This would have been funny to Snoop, but I accidentally drove the car into the porch of the L.A. district attorney's mistress's house.
Thinking that I was back in court I completely lost it, and decided to try and make a get away.
I pounced out of the fridge screaming, "You can't keep me in a cage!! Axis of Evil! Evil Nixon Grin!! Attica Attica!!! No new taxes, no new taxes!! Michael's nose isn't real!!" It seemed that sobriety had gotten the worst of me, and I was just letting out all the things that bugged me in life. But everything I said just sounded like I was a psycho lunatic, because of the brick of ice sticking to my tongue. I had climbed into the arms of a very nice looking woman who was talking to a guy with the face of Karl Malden. The last thing I remember before passing out right there in her arms was her saying "You're first name isn't Kato is it?" One last scream came from me, "THE GLOVES DIDN'T FIT, THE GLOVES DIDN'T FIT!!" And then I passed out....
Posted by captainhoof
at 11:56 AM CDT
