While not quite as bad as the bathrobe fiasco, an event was coming that was not much
better. Nerdfest 2005 was going to happen soon, which is where nerds flock from near
and far to pay a lot of money to listen to video game music. Brian, John, and the Troll
were all going to this. Not together of course. It’s bad enough Brian was going and in
Clad in Darkness, but he’d be damned if he was going to spend any time with any
Cladling he didn’t absolutely have to.
John almost didn’t make it to the show. The troll recently acquired temporary custody of
a goat, and almost told John he lost the tickets and gave John’s to the goat, but realized
that would only be funny if he did that to Coy. John agreed wholeheartedly because he’s
a jerk. Not as big of one as the troll, that guy’s a real bastard, and his band mates are all
probably secretly plotting his death.
The troll also tried ditching John while waiting to get into Nerdfest, but sadly, all the
people the troll would rather go with already had tickets, and the troll couldn’t even offer
upgrades since his seat was back in a corner somewhere in the last row, so he was stuck
with John. And during the performance, John was moved to tears… milky tears that is—
hey what the hell are you doing? Get that hammer away from OW! OW! OW! What
the hell did you do that for? Damn it, my fingers are broken and I can’t type anymore.
Luckily, I happen to be illiterate and I have a machine that converts speech to text, and it
even has a random typo generator to make it look like real typing. Milky tears milky
tearsssssaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa (it is at this point
the writer has all his teeth smashed out his mouth and his jaw wired shut. The rest of the
story will be continued by 1000 monkeys with 1000 type writers)
Oooo oooo oooo aaah aaah ahhh EEEE! EEEE! EEEE! EEE!
Thus, the time had come for this fledgling band of minstrels to once again venture out into
the harsh outer realm beyond the sanctuary of Fort Big Sexy. The band also wanted to
carry an air of sophistication about themselves. Gone where the days of wearing attire
better suited for teenage burnouts and replaced where suits patterned after the fashion of
organized crime in Chicago during the prohibition era. This show was meant to be the
triumphant return from exile into the public eye once again, and draw many new fans
flocking to their website so they can post on that ridiculous forum.
És így a szalag játszott egy mutat felöltözött szeret mobsters -val a Tető 40 pukkanás
érzet A Hervadás Lelkek. Ők mégegyszer játszott -ban egy dundi lyuk a falban büfé és
didn’t elkezd amíg késő -val a szegény körének birtoklás -hoz hagy korai mert mennie
kellett dolgozik ötkor reggel a nap után a megbeszél. De azonkívül a természetfeletti ,
ruha , ez mutat volt eléggé eseménytelen. Volt nem a diadalmaskodó visszatér a
nyilvánosságnak szem a szalag volt reméli a , és ők folytatódik -hoz marad és sötét tett -
ban egy sötét faj.
I’m hungry. I’m taking a break from writing.
I’m back.
Despite the craptastic outcome of the last show, the band traveled the murky waters over
to Odin’s Forest to play a show for a bunch of drunk children. This show was equally
un-noteworthy, aside from the fact the troll had been electrocuted prior to it and looked
extra freakish at this performance, and Brian couldn’t stay awake during his drumming.
Someone needs to tell Brian we aren’t going for a horror themed image and he needs to
stop looking like a zombie in all his pictures. At least when he has retarded arms we can
laugh at those pictures. Very shameful. The worst show this current line up has ever
played.
After these past two shows, the band was trying to figure out why they had gotten so
bad. They kept drinking tea, so it wasn’t they weren’t getting enough tea in their system.
They had even tried drinking nasty Calea tea, which is way more disgusting than meat
grass.
The band deliberated over this for awhile, trying to figure out why they sucked even
though they were spending at least 75% of their allotted practice time drinking tea in the
kitchen. Then the obvious dawned on them. They wouldn’t get any better if they spent
75% of practice time drinking tea in the kitchen instead of the practice space. They
needed to add Kool-Aid to the mix. Some good old fashioned Purplesaurus Rex (which
is rarely ever purple). That will fix all their problems.
Full of tea and Kool-Aid, the band headed out to Jesusland to play a show at the
Wheaton Grand Theatre. They would once again be playing with The Withering Souls.
In addition, they would also be playing with November’s Doom, John’s wet dream cum
tr00. This was the biggest show the band ever played, but sadly it was during the
afternoon (damn you Creidhne!). There were many visitors to the show, including The
Urns and The Rotting Corpses. But like his tormentor before him, The Skullsplitter was
granted a weekend pass from prison to go the show. Granted, he was there being carted
around Hannibal Lecter style, but he was there checking out the old band. The band was
friendly with him, and Andrew still had his same dorky demeanor he did back in the good
old days when he was in the band. And everyone had forgotten about the role the little
midget had played in inflicting the Shrub onto the world, and everyone had a good time
like the good old days before there were two Rones in the band.