Balls Capone

The Worst Music Festival Ever - by P.N. Neville

I pulled into the festival gate in my old 1998 Toyota 4Runner, my usual band equipment hauling machine for festivals and gigs of the like.  The man at the gate was rude and of few words, I handed him my band pass ticket and he smirked and shook his head back and forth like I’d already done something wrong.  He tore the top half of and gave it back to me.

“Blue 32”, he said dryly, and waved me on.

The festival was being held out near a large lake, much like our own Great Salt Lake.  The ground I drove over was white and crusty, but underneath was a layer of black stinking greasy mud, so the entire festival grounds was nothing but a giant mud bog.  The sky was overcast and threatening to rain at any minute, creating a further mess of things.  A slight breeze blew in off the lake that smelled like brine and gross, again, much like our own GSL.  Why they had chosen this location was beyond me, it was not a pleasant place to hold such an event.

The festival was set up like a giant color wheel, the colors getting darker as you moved toward the middle which was black, or the main stage/festival area.  There were main roads between ever color making a spoked wheel pattern.  On the outside edge where the colors were the lightest were things like restrooms, vendors, food, beer, and an old connivence store that people could shop at 24/7.  So at least there were facilities here.

I noticed the rest of my band mates gathering in a group behind the general store.  I figured that’d be a great place to camp, right next to restrooms and services, and there was less mud back there along with a few actual green patches of life in the greasy blackness.  I pulled up and greeted everyone, happy to finally have made it, but I was welcomed with cold scorn.  There was this woman there I had never seen before, her name was Lindsay and the rest of the band had hired her on the spot to be our manager.  She was short, stocky and had a bright green buzz cut with neon yellow lightening bolts shaved into the sides.  Her face was like stone, no joy to be seen.

“You’re late”, she said to me while the others gave me sideways looks, as if I had wronged them all somehow.

“Late?  We don’t even play until tomorrow….”, I tried to explain before being rudely cut off by Lindsay.

“IT GOT MOVED UP, DIDN’T YOU GET THE MEMO I SENT?!  ARE YOU COMPLETELY HELPLESS?  DO I NEED TO CALL YOUR MOMMY FOR YOU.  NOW GET YOUR SHIT AND GET DOWN THERE.”, she bellowed at me.

I was stunned, who was this, what memo?  We don’t send each other memos.  About to get angry, I jumped out of my vehicle to give this awful lay a piece of my mind.  Even came up from behind me and put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“Come on, dude, calm down.  Come with me”, Evan said calmly.

He lead me to an old beat up cement stair case that lead down into darkness.  Above the stairs was a flickering half broken neon said that read, “The Singers Basement.”

“This is where the bands are staying, down this way”, explained Evan as I followed him down the flaking concrete stairs.  Rusting bolts and rebar stuck out of the crumbling cement like an a bunker left over from some ancient war.  It was dirty and dank as we went deeper down.  The door was covered with dirt and dry leaves everywhere, it looked like it had recently been completely flooded.  The air was becoming thicker and thicker as we came to the bottom of the stairs.

“Ok, dude, you’re in Blue 32, down that way”, said Evan as he pointed down a dimly lit hallway.

“Scotty should already be there, so have a good time”, said Evan as he turned and walked away.

“Wait, where are the rest of you staying?  Why am I down here?  Who the hell is Scotty?”, I asked, but received no reply as Evan vanished into the darkness of the hallway.

This didn’t feel right, something was off.  But I walked on down the hall anyway to find this “Blue 32.”

I realized that the whole festival grounds above were hollow and the color wheel existed down here as well.  This is where al the artists were supposed to stay so they didn’t intermingle with the guests.  It was so humid, the air was like breathing through a wet cloth, the cement walls were crudely painted with colors, and along the top of the right hand wall were strings of industrial lights in those protective cages.  Again, very bunker like.

I finally came across a metal door in the wall that had a blue 32 spray painted on it.  The door was more like something you’d see in a submarine, like a water tight hatch.  You had to turn the wheel on the front around twice to be able to enter.  Well, at least it was secure, a good place for my gear anyway.  I grabbed the rusty metal wheel and turned, it groaned and creaked as it slowly turned making a few loud clunking noises until the wheel stopped.  I pushed open the door into the room.

It was all concrete like everything else down here, there was old dirty rug plopped in the middle of the room, in the corner sat an old water damaged wooden desk with a desk lamp on it.  The lamp was the only light in the room and in shone on a dirty old metal framed queen size bed with nothing but actually springs for the mattress.  The fabric had obviously gone long ago and it was only a skeleton of mattress.  There were dirty white blankets balled up on the bed, I guess this is what I was to use.  I guess it’s better than nothing.

“I’m gonna die from tetanus down here….”, I muttered to myself as I set my bag down.  Suddenly a voice rang out from the bed and I noticed there was someone laying in it under the covers.

“Hey, it’s really comfy once you get used to it, now come to me!”, said the voice as an arm came out from the covers and beckoned me over.

“Who the hell are you?”, I asked, now alarmed at this stranger laying in my room.

“I’m Scotty, you know me, silly, well not like that, yet.  But soon!”, said Scotty as he shot up out of the bed.

Scotty was a middle aged skinny white dude, he had brown messy hair and a scruffy 5 o’clock shadow, but the rest of his body was completely hairless, bright white with blotchy red patches all over his body.  He reminded me of a large lab rat, and all he had on was a pair of stretched out dirty white undies.

“Oh, we’re gonna have such a good time, are you ready for me?”, said Scotty as he slinked across the floor and gave me an incredibly uncomfortable hug, his hand rubbing up and down my back, his breathing becoming heavy, his skin now cold and moist.

“Gross!”, I let out sharply as I sprung from his moist clutches.  The vibe of this dude was so icky, I felt dirty and a bit violated.

Scotty just started laughing an evil perverted laugh.

“Just wait until tonight, big boy.  You’re gonna experience EVERYTHING”, said Scotty as he reached down into his undies.

He smiled as he brought out his gross down crusty dick and balls.  They were oddly shaped with a giant lump on the side of his uncircumcised dick.  He reached down and pulled open his big baggy foreskin and took out an open pack of Camel stud cigarettes and a lighter.

“Wanna smoke?”, smiled scotty as he placed the items back into his “bag.”

I nearly threw up, the scene was so revolting.  I just turned and fled the room, running down the hallway to try and find anyone to help me remove the fucking rapist in my room.   I just kept going, I have to run into someone at some point, right?  I noticed now that the walls were no longer blue, but red and some of the lights in this section were burned out or broken.  I kept walking until I saw a figure in a door way down at the end of this hallway.

“Who the fuck are you?”, said a tall black man in a dark coat standing in the doorway smoking a cigarette.

“I sure hope you didn’t bum that smoke from Scotty”, I said trying to make light of the situation.  But the man didn’t  take it that way.  He was obviously not happen at my presence here.

“Who the fuck is Scotty?”, said the man.

“You in Red 7, white boy.  Shit, you even Grindin’?  Yeah, I thought not.  Now get your ass outta here before you get yourself hurt.”, said the man in an aggressive tone.

“Sure, whatever you say, dude, I’d love to be out of this fucking place, how do I get out of here?  I need to get back to the stairs, can you show me the way?”, I asked.

The man rolled his eyes and threw the cigarette onto the concrete floor, extinguishing and smooshing it with his fancy black boot.  I could see the holster under his coat, a large black .45 caliber 1911 pistol, locked and loaded.  Ready to go.  This guy meant business.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want the rest of that?”, said the man in an angry dry tone.

“No, I don’t even smoke anymore”, I said, just trying to get out of this situation.

“Of course you don’t”, said the man.

“Follow the arrows on the floor, dumbass.  And don’t you come back down in here unless you grindin’, you dig?”, asked the man as he pointed to a yellow arrow painted on the floor.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.  Thanks.”, I said as I walked quickly down the passage away from the man.

I just wanted out, I hadn’t been here even an hour yet and I’d already had two mind bending terrifying experiences down in this god awful dungeon.  Who’s running this show anyway?

As I walked on the walls turned from red to blue again and then to green, I knew I was close, I could feel the cooler air and that fresh Great Salt Lake brine smell.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I saw the light from the stairwell shining down into the darkness like the light of creation itself.  I climbed the steps with glee, I needed to find my band mates, and tell them this story. 

I emerged into the light, the air was so light and fresh, still stinky, but far better than down in the “Singers Basement.”  I decided right there and then that I was going to sleep in the back of my 4 Runner then have to chance going back down there again.  I walked around the store to find the camp I had seen and everyone was standing there staring at me.

Lindsay stormed up to me once again carrying a large industrial size can of refried beans.

“Where have you been, dude?  You’re fucking late again, what the fuck is wrong with you?  Get your shit and get it entered into the computer, now!  You play soon, you better be ready, don’t fuck this up for us.  Or did you forget that too?  Do you even remember how to play anymore?  God, you suck.  I can’t wait to get this over with and get rid of you, everyone wants you gone.  So just do us a favor and get this over with, then you can go kill yourself or whatever”, explained Lindsay in a raging tone.

Lindsay shoved the can of refried beans into my arms, the bottom side had been crushed in like it had fallen off a truck or something, some of the beans were leaking out from between the crumpled metal.

“Don’t forget to recycle…..”, said Lindsay as she walked away and into the store.

I was shocked, I didn’t  know what to say.  What had I done that was so bad?  Why does everyone here hate me so much?  Everyone else in the band just kind of stood around and looked at the ground not saying anything at all.  It looked like this was my dinner, a busted ass can of refried beans.

I walked over to my gear and sitting on my amp was a little tablet computer, this is where I was to input all my gear.  See, here at AwfulFest everything on the stage was controlled now by AI.  So you would enter your gear into the system, the make and model of everything you play.  Then, when your band is up, the computer configures everything on stage to emulate your real gear 100%, so you never need to move gear.  But you still have to bring it in case the AI needs to scan something.

The interface was buggy and slow, I was trying to enter the make and model of some of my pedals and it just kept throwing this error, “ZERO NEGATIVE”, over and over, and every time it happened it played the error over a loudspeaker.  “ZERO NEGATIVE”, it would blare out to the camp.  I was getting frustrated, I couldn’t get anything to input correctly and the constant loud “ZERO NEGATIVE” booming from the loud speakers was drawing an angry crowd.

Suddenly there was a man behind me, impatient and angry,.

“Hey, some of us also need to use that, I know you don’t think about anyone but yourself, asshole but we ALL need to use that.”, he said in super unfriendly tone.

God, why does everyone here hate me?  What did I do to these people?

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to make this work and it just keeps making errors, maybe if you help me I can get this done quicker and we can all move on”, I pleaded.

It fell of deaf ears and only seemed to infuriate this guy even more.

“That’s it, asshole you’re off the Jam!  You’re all off the Jam!”, he yelled at us as he stormed off into the crowd, which began to slowly break up, muttering angrily to themselves and flashing me sideways looks.  The rest of the band just left and walked into their tents without a word, obviously infuriated that I just got us kicked off the Jam lineup.  All I was trying to do was get my gear into the system like I was asked.

“Well, nice job, really nice job”, said Lindsay approaching from the front of the store.

“What the fuck is wrong you?  You just ruined everyone’s time.  You always have to fuck it up for everyone, hey, are you listening to me?  Do you hear me, fuckhead?  Hey?  Listen to me!”, screamed Lindsay.

“You also really upset Scotty!  He only wants to do things to you and you hurt his feelings.  And what’s this I hear about you going down to Red 7?  Are you trying to get us all killed?  Wait, are you grinding?  Are you fucking Grinding right now?”, continued Lindsay.

“And what’s your problem with Scotty?  Huh?  Do you just hate gay people now?  I’ll bet you just hate gay people, you asshole”, yelled Lindsay some more.

“No!  What?  I don’t hate gay people at all, but this guy is a creep, I tell ya he means to corn haul me!  I don’t want to get fucking corn hauled!”, I responded.

“And , no, I don’t even know what Grinding is or means.  And you know what?  Fuck you, you ugly bitch, I’m tired of your shit!  Get away from me before I really get pissed.  Who even are you?  Why are you here?  Fuck it, I don’t care anymore.  Fuck you all, I quit.”, I roared in response to all these new accusations and general insanity.

I turned to put my gear back in my 4 Runner and leave this horrible place, but Lindsay rushed me from behind and hit me over the head with the big dented can of beans.  I reared back and slammed against the 4 Runner.  It was on now.  I reached into the 4Runner and grabbed my knife.  The rage had taken me, she tried to kill me with that can of beans.  Now it’s my turn.  I rusher her and hit her in face with the butt of the knife sending her to the ground.  She hit the ground, splurging out blood and chunks of broken teeth, but responded by kicking me in the balls from the ground and jumped up to face me again, but I was able to deal with it and swung my knife, hitting her in the gut.  She doubled over and groaned in pain.

“I’m going to turn you into DOG FOOD!”, I screamed as a I prepared for another swing of the knife.

Then something hit me in the back of the head from behind.  That damn can of beans again.  It all went dark.  I was floating like smoke stuck in a sealed room, I had no form, just a floating mist.  It was a terrible feeling, I wanted to put myself all back together again, but I had no arms to do so. 

Then a light began to fill the room.  I was coming back to reality.  I was in bed, it was comfortable and relaxing.  Oh man, was it all just a bad dream within a dream?  I sure hope so.  I rolled over to go back to sleep and to my horror, right there next to me face to face in bed was Scotty.

“Morning, sunshine!”, he said in a toying manner., twirling my beard with his boney finger.

“You were crazy last night, boy.  But I like it, I like your crazy”, said Scotty as he ran his hand down my chest.

I pushed back and jumped out of the bed and to my horror I was completely naked.

“What the fuck is this?  Why am I naked?”, I asked in complete terror.

“Get out of my room, you creep!”, I yelled

Scotty just sneered at me and said, “That’s not what you said last night, my silly boy.”

Horrified, I just ran for the door.  I didn’t care if I was naked or not.  I was getting the fuck out of there.  But as I rad down the hall all I could hear was laughter, big loud hearty laughter.  It got louder as I ran down the dark damp hallways.  I was now lost, running in all directions, going past every color until I ended up down in Red 7 again, and there is the hallway was the man in the dark coat.  This time, his gun drawn and pointed at me.

“I told you never to come down here again”, “this time it’s your ass”, he said as he drilled the gun into my back and pushed me forward down the hallway.

He took me down the hall to a room that was filled with light and rainbow colors, he pushed me into the room and there was a big crowd of people standing in line for what looked like an amusement park ride.  There were cars on a track, slowly moving one by one as they loaded people into the cars.  The cars would come out of the ride empty, they must get off somewhere else.

They took me to a desk where a guy in a colorful clown suit looked me over.

“Scotty?”, asked the Clown.

“Yeah, one of his”, said the Dark Man.

“Has he been done?”, asked the Clown.

“Yeah, he’s been done alright.  He’s been done all night long, it’s amazing he can walk right”, joked the Dark Man as they both shared a laugh.

“Let me go!”, I screamed as a tried to break free of the Dark Mans grip.

“Shut Up!”, yelled the Clown.

“Well, welcome to Wally’s Rainbow Magic Fun Palace”, the Clown said to me.

“Get in line, we’ll get you taken care of”, said the Clown in a menacing tone.

The Clown then smiled a big grim and you could see his blood filled mouth and gross teeth.  I knew whatever was in store for me was not going to be pleasant.  This is was like something out of an ICP song, the Dark Carnival or something.  My turn came and they put me into the car and strapped me in.

“Keep your arms and legs in the car at all times, WHILE YOU STILL HAVE THEM”, joked the ride attendant which seemed to make everyone in the room start to laugh and laugh.  This was the laughter I had heard in the hallways.  Now it’s my turn.

The car sprang to life and jolted forward through the rusty metal doors into complete blackness.  I felt myself falling and falling, suddenly I was spinning, forwards, backwards, uncontrollably through the pitch black and suddenly I felt myself floating again, that same awful smoke feeling.  I was smoke, I was bumping against the ceiling tiles next to a buzzing neon tube light.  I had become smoke, I could see below me, Scotty sitting at the desk in the dimly lit room, laughing to himself next to a bloody mattress, I was now just smoke, smoke from one of Scotty’s ballsack cigarettes.

Then I woke up.  Thank the Multi-Beast.  What an awful dream.