Half Empty Ashtrays- short bit from a bigger picture.

GiventoFall

Sugar pie honey bunch bubblegum Poptart boy band jams dash out the left speaker into my right ear at such a high frequency you’d clog your ears with tampons to soak up the blood. The damage would be double if the right speaker was in commission, luckily this little boom box has gone through alota wear-and-tear throughout the years, who knows if it was the grape, orange or lemon lime soda’s that done the most damage, tragically spilled accidentally, leaving it extra sticky and half broken. The poor things a cum dumpster of soft drink pre-ejaculated rape. The perfect sound system to play outdated god awful kidz tunes on. How to describe the production value of such an album? It sounds like the candy you find on the bottom shelf of some dollar store, with outrageous levels of sugar. You know, the lollipop stick you dip in sugar, all wrapped in !Extreme! flashy plastic covering. Crack for kids making them bounce off the walls and then come to a halting crash in the length of a Spider-Man cartoon. Most adults enjoy indulging in sugar savory vending machine snack from time to time. They just don’t try to snort a line of pixie sticks or give themselves a bellyache attempting to devour all their Halloween candy in one sitting. No, most adults don’t make a meal outa Fritos, Cheetos, and Hot Fries. Not Robert. At 26 he still listens to the songs of his yesteryears on a daily basis. You know how old people get set in their ways and don’t understand the new generations culture and music, choosing to shut down and only listen to the tunes of their golden years, the music they first got laid to as teenagers. Robert does this with the music he listened to when he was twelve. Pop music that’s what Robby is nostalgic of. His all time favorite band is High Five. Don’t remember them never heard of them. No worries, they only had one minor hit at a time when Backstreet Boys, Nsync, and 98 Degrees reigned supreme becoming the soundtrack to every child’s junior high dance. They only ever had one small corner picture on the cover of Teen Beat. Their single ‘Love is a Lazy River’ was this close to making it on MTV’s TRL. Back when boy bands were a dime a dunkin donut, every record label took a shot with third rate groups like O-Town, LFO, the list goes on, Boyzone. Most of these bands fans were little girls who grew up to listen to country, rap, or pop punk. But that doesn’t mean that Smash Mouth can’t retain a fan club of a respectable size. That Sugar Ray can’t continue to hold a prospering message board community. The Spice Girls cd going for 2 cents on Amazon and Ebay, one little girls trash is some older man’s treasure. When I tell people my 27 year old heterosexual brother loves High Five they get a good chuckle but it’s only fun fact number thirty-two for me, In any other household one would raise an eyebrow if they heard Culture Club being blasted at top volume through paper thin walls, uninvited into your room and buzzing around your ears but for me this is the sound home makes.
My names Andrew Williams and my brothers a out of the closet into the bedroom pop fan and if that doesn’t jerk off your funny bone venture into his room where your find walls covered in old High Five posters from 90’s issues of J-14 or online printed photo’s, faded so you know the ink cartridge was low at the time. All of it kinda crooked and not centered and not strategically placed to look pleasant.
Right now he’s sharing space in the basement with I while me tries to finish up a essay for this bullshit college course labeled Sociology of the Family. Sharing the actual space in the room but he’s hogging all the sound waves.
“Hey Robert can you turn it down just { } ß this much.
“No Drew. I was down here first and you told me it didn’t bother you”
“Look man I got one sentence left. All I have to do is write one deep thought provoking philosophical sentence as a conclusion then you can play your kiddy porn background music to the high heavens.”
Fuck you Drew!!! I knew you’d pull this fucking shit! ! !
It’s hard to take Robert very seriously when he gets pissed. His wardrobe includes a old 1940’s Frank Sinatra style top hat, heavy black framed Buddy Holly glasses, a poor man’s goatee with island patches of pubic hair all over his face that he refuses to shave, a creepy child molesters shitstash. If you looked at his Britney Spears t-shirt as being ironic you’d have the perfect prototype of a hipster, Hipster’s wish they could be this hip. Robert’s a American original. BTW, it’s not so much the musicals that bug me but more so his attempts to sing along, off time and out of tune. He doesn’t realize me raising my voice wasn’t to yell at him just to communicate over the noise factor.
“Robby listen….Listen..chill man.. I’m only one thought away from finishing a A paper. Alright man?Ok.”
Robert grumbles + mumbles under his breathe, kneels down and lowers the volume. Not good enough. I told him{ }ß this much but he does { }ß this much. Fucking asshole, I still can’t concentrate.
‘Rob I told you to turn it down a pidget you only made it a smidget. Gimme a fucking break kit kat.
He just stares at me with a ‘Get the fuck outa here’ look on his face.
“Just a little more. A little lot more.”
“If I turn it down anymore I won’t be able to hear it, if you didn’t want me to play music down here you shouldof told me when I first came down. I don‘t feel like moving upstairs now there‘s only three songs left.
“come on”
!!!FUCK YOU!!!-- No longer prancing around the basement, he stands still staring and challenging me. Like a stand off in some old western movie but that bad ass music is replaced by a forgettable ballad about like liking a girl. I accept this challenge. I waltz up outa the computer chair away from the computer and walk over to his little plastic sound maker on the floor by the couch, put that sucker down to the perfect level, nob turned all the way to the left.
“Fuck you Andrew God I fucking hate you!”
Although it doesn’t seem like it now, Rob is actually one of those among us whom very rarely cusses so when he drops an excessive amount of F-Bombs ,it’s very startling and shares a similar impact as Hiroshima. The harder edge and harsher sting of him saying ‘fuck‘ makes me wish I used the word less in common convos so it would hold the same kinda powerful presence.
Suddenly somewhat of a miracle happens. A splendid chain of events. A little domino effect. Robert grabs at a stringless acoustic guitar. A past tense profession of Rob’s included struggling folk musician (think Daniel Johnson but every song is performed by hitting all strings open as hard as possible, leading the strings to eventually snap) He picks up this chewed battled and abused guitar and bashes it against the soft leathery front side of my computer chair sending it grooving on its wheels across the room bumping into the television set on top of the stand for television sets. Like in slow motion…nah not really just in motion… the tv tilts back and falls off its stand hitting the ground and making a crushing noise like ‘pulampsapu!’ Eh! I’m not good with sound effects I just wanted to fuck with you, the reader, and make you have to interpret that noise. Think about this reader, big uncircumcised black penis going in and out of a Mexicans wide open pink anus.
When it crashes to the ground the screen cracks open and smoke smokes out. I scream, Rob screams, we all scream for ice cream.
Actually we freeze. A moment of silence as I look at Rob who looks at me, and before I know it he’s jetting up the stairs while I stay left behind cursing up at him.
“Robert you fucking piece of shit you broke to tv! Shit, bitch cunt, fuck ect ect.
I look at the 20 inch broken box on the ground, realizing I’d get part of the blame from ma and pa when they got home for getting Rob wound up. Wonderful
What Robert had done was evacuate the house and stand outside because he was worried the television would explode and the house would be set a blaze. Woulda made for a better domino effect for sure.
Really it was a shitty old tv set anyway. The color was all off and super bright, you had to wear sunglasses just to watch the fucking thing. It gave mom and dad a excuse to buy a new 48” flat screen HD tv. They weren’t that mad. Not as mad as when he prank phone called 911 on the boardwalk and stayed on the phone long enough for a bike cop to find and ticket him or the time we found out he was taking nude walks around the block at 3 in the morning or when he got lost in the woods for two days or the zoo for ten hours or

StillHere

omg!

zarocat

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