Peter
Flatworth and The Rebounds III
The
Ass Mariah
Yesterday, I punched Matthew Foremost in the back and he cried like a little childrens. “All that is OUTSKI”, I yelled. “All that is OUTSKI.”
It all started when we sprung a leak in the Tommy Lift. “Lonely, did you fix the coolant leak on the Thomas yet, you fuckin’ smash wiener?” I said, as I sprayed bistoff from the canister of Steve. “It should be done in about 5 minutes. We’ve got an Ebaneiser to cruise.” During this time, all of the other Rebounds were working on a song except for Walsh Pedro. He was talking to Mariah, the genie who lived inside the knockitoff. We all called her, The Astonishing Sub-Stupid. This genie was no Aladdin box; she could call your uncle and fuckin’ steal your pour bleffid.
“ARMS, THE WAY OF THE OG. SILLY WILLIAM DOESN’T WASTE PAPER.” Fish yelled to the sky as loud as he could. “I forgot to lock the sheet door at All Branch’s the Tree House, Living in the Tree House." Fish said in a panic. "If the Runner Stupid gets there before I do, he’ll straight break the tall gruber. Lonely Child… Fix the Thomas! We gotta roll Jack.”
Lonely child stood up and responded. “All right you fuckin’ magic jacket it’s fixed. Pedro, grab the Ass Mariah! Rebounds, saddle up! It’s all about Zimothy and Damantha now baby.”
After the chaos was all said and done, Peter Flatworth lived on again. It was time to cruise the scene and fuckin’ nennerin the box Sebastian. Terry and Ryan were bored. They knew of a place where the beer was free and the women were as Elvis as a three-dollar bill. “You gotta go about a thousand Lincoln’s far ‘till we get to a place called the Bread Auto Rolanda.” Terry yelled, as he cried like a bitch on fire. Ryan paused a minute and spoke shortly after that. “Yeah later for you then you little jail bates.”
This
place was about a thousand. We did
warp 16 Yamaoka, and we all did the Matthew.
We rolled in at about 2 degrees and we parked the Tommy Lift on the
loading dock. Lucky for us that this
place sold out of our records back in 1912, and they never got anymore
shipments. This way we were able to
cruise the scene without everybody wanting to touch us.
We went to Mark and Oscar, the nine-headed titty bar with your
grandma’s arm stuck to your forehead, you fuckin’ non-pix lumpy.
Fish was so excited that he yelled to the sky as loud as he could,
“TWO-PUMPLIN, THE CHILD OF LASCO, YOU DUMB SON OF A VIET DONG.”
After that we pounded a beer and we all did the Matthew.
As it turned out, Mark and Oscar wanted to change it’s image by
going from a titty bar to a well rounded Sunkist, you fuckin’ pharmacy.
They wanted to have a live band and they knew that Peter Flatworth and
The Rebounds would bring all that is business.
Commercial Break
Being Peter Flatworth, Lonely took control of the conversation. “Rebounds: We’ve been offered an arm load of cash to Ebaneiser this dump. Do you guys want to play “Stomp Wiener”, and “Caca Covered Zinger”, and all our other hits?” Lonely asked, with a piece of popcorn stuck in his Afro.
“I need to talk to the Ass Mariah.
She knows if this will be a good opportunity or not.”
Walsh Pedro said, as he kicked me in the fetce.
“It will be a good opportunity, we’ve got rent due at All Branch’s.
We haven’t had any money since we played
“YEAH, WE’LL PLAY. FUCK THE UNDER ON A LOOK AT SHE’S FACE.” Fish yelled to the sky as loud as he could. “Weigh the anchor! How much does it weigh? I don’t know, I forgot. You Forgot? Klitch, I saw that on a movie once.” Ryan said, as he sat there and got wasted. Lonely Child and I (Thomas the Rebound) agreed that it would be the king. Now, basically it was in the hands of the Ass Mariah.
We headed back to the Tommy Lift so we could talk to the Sub-Stupid. We didn’t want to do it in the bar because people would think that our toilet was clogged, you fuckin’ tirdcutter. “Ass Mariah; Come out and talk to us! Should we play this gig?” Walsh Pedro said, as he broke things right now. “Please, please, please, I’m eating a papaya, I’m the one, the Ass Mariah. And to answer your question; Yes you should play this gig. But, there are a few things that you have to take care of first. First of all, The Runner Stupid straight broke the tall gruber, so you’re gonna have to go back to All Branch’s and fuckin’ slide the remmy jaw to stop the bowl tennis. And second of all, Landlord Winchells is at your Arm Garage, waxing your milk turkey. So take me home because I gotta score some toilet paper, you fuckin’ Rock Bobby.”
"You heard her Rebounds.” Lonely
replied. “Let’s get the mark
outta here and grab our instruments.
Commercial Break
We all cruised back up on the Tommy Lift and did about sixteen seventeen’s back to All Branch’s. It turned out to be a nice drive. The wind was blowing yokum, the sun was about a chilidog, and the wine was delicious. “What’s the secret Peter?” A voice said, as it sat there so very taco. “Naturally, I’ll say it’s the wine.” Ding-Dong. “Mmmmmm. It does go well with the chicken.” The voice said again, with a suffer. “Delicious again Peter.”
We rolled up on All Branch’s and nobody was there, you fuckin’ nan pie (salt style). Landlord Winchells and The Runner Stupid must have left before we got there. “Ass Mariah; Grab some toilet paper!” Lonely said, with his one big red shoe on. “Rebounds; Grab your instruments! If we wanna keep this five knock of a house, we’re gonna have to get back to Mark and Oscar.”
“Yeah man yeah it’s from Turkey.” Ryan said, as he threw his bass on the Thomas. The rest of us pretty much did the same. We were in a hurry, so there was no time for “The Cosmos” if you will.
After
the Tommy Lift was loaded, we headed back to Mark and Oscar, and we all
did the Matthew. We unloaded our
stuff, set up and still had about two hours before Ebaneiser time.
We split off and did our own thing, you fuckin’ pause final.
Being the leader, Peter Flatworth (Lonely Child) spent his two hours
working out the money deals and gig schedules for us.
Fish went down the block to a place called The Land of the
Loudinit’s, where he was able to yell to the sky as loud as he could.
Old Terry took off toward the shoreline, as he took chicken from the
question of Lolly. “We’re gonna
go see some people of mine. They
don’t like strange dudes. They
don’t FUCK around.” Ryan said,
and then ran down the street. Walsh
Pedro went back to the Thomas and had a candle light dinner with the Ass Mariah,
inside the knockitoff. And I, Thomas
the Rebound, just hung out and did the Matthew for about a thousand.
(Because if you’ll notice, we don’t really do it that much in this
story.)
Commercial Break
Two hours have gone by, and we’re all hanging out, ready to go on. The place was FUCKIN’ PACKED. People from all around have gathered to see their old favorite band. “Where the fuck is Ryan?” Lonely said, as he’s got mustard on his face and shit. “Hey, are you guy’s ready to go on? These people are going nuts.” The bartender said. “No, we’re still waiting for our bass player to return.” Walsh Pedro said, as he kicked him in the fetce. “SLAP OUR FATHER’S BOXERS IN THE CORN GORDON.” Fish yelled to the sky as loud as he could. “I’m gonna go outside and try to find his ass.” I said, in a Hispanic panic.
“No wait. Here he comes.” Lonely said. “Where the fuck were you? Are you ready to go on?” Lonely asks. At this time, Ryan’s standing there out of breath with this big ol’ box in his hands. Ryan catches his breath and looks at all of us and say’s. “AMIGOS, Presenting: Y’alls New Uniforms.” We all laughed hard, and did the serious Matthew. These uniforms were outta site. We all had huge platform dads cruisin’, bells about 30 that were puke green velvet and butterfly collared silkies that hung down to your grandpa’s nest Georgie. We were the Cat’s Afro, and we were ready.
“Ladies
and Gentlemen. Can I Have Your
Attention Please! Please welcome,
the band that changed the history of music, the ones that cruised down from All
Branch’s on the Thomas, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
PETER FLATWORTH AND THE REBOUNDS.
The
whole Bells Tina went nuts. We must
have played for 3 hours that night. We
made more than enough money to pay Landlord Winchells for the rent for the next
6 months. We also made enough to fix
the tall gruber that The Runner Stupid broke.
Things were looking good, and I think Peter Flatworth and the Rebounds
will be around for a while again. If
you ever feel like doing the Matthew, cruise down on your Thomas and see us
sometime. We’ll be at Mark and
Oscar for a while. We like it
here.
The
End