Thursday, April 28, 2005


Hands baggy and saggy with age, the former lead singer of the hardest death metal band in the world carefully cross-stitches the memory of a concert onto a pillow case.

The clock on the wall ticks between each sharp pass of the needle through the white.

“Oh who’s that gramps ?” She comes into the room with a pot of tea. Wisps of steam, like little genies, float out of the spout.

The clock on the wall ticks between the death of each genie.

“Stan, Christ did I ever hate him. But this fan says her favorite moment of the Murder with no Mercy tour was when I would spit blood into the fire that Stan was blowing. God rest his fucking soul.” He explains all this with his hands and eyes. His memory is in fragments scattered throughout his body and beneath a hand or next to the movement of an eye can be found an evening thirty years ago.

The clock on the wall ticks between each paragraph of this story.

“Which fan is this ?” She knows the questions that will pull out words and feelings from her millionaire grandfather.

The clock on the wall ticks in tune with your heartbeat.

“Betty Saverage. She went to every single show we played in Chicago. She writes me every month like clockwork. She really got what we were into. You know she’s not so much into the Satanism, like some of the fans. Although that has to be respected. You do it for the fans no matter how fucked up they are. But you appreciate somebody like Betty because she realized it was all about having a little bit of wild fun.”

The clock on the wall is made out of a Venomous Carnage album cover. Inside the fiery mouth of Satan the band plays on corpses turned into instruments. Inside the sleeve, unbeknownst to most everyone, is the last will and testament of the former lead singer of the hardest death metal band in the world.. All his money will go to his fans.

“So gramps, I was wondering if we could talk about your great grand-kids futures’ ?”


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