Mushrooms with Ministry and the dumpster ridden cowgirl

Name: John

Age: 30

I often tell people that I’ve never backed down from a fight, but then again, I’ve never won a fight either.

I picked up my brother-in-law at the county road commission where he works around 4:00 p.m.. and from there we picked up his friend at the county dump where he works and headed into Detroit for a Ministry concert (which we had all outgrown), but friends of mine invited me and I hadn’t seen them in 10 years so we figured we could revert back to our teenage years for one night.

A bottle of rum appeared about ten minutes into our hour long trip and it disappeared about as fast as it appeared.  Then the brother in law’s friend smoked a joint as we continued towards the Emerald theater.

We met my friends at Johnny G’s, the bar next door to the theater for a few pre-show drinks.  All of the old gang was there.  One of them is now a tattoo artist, a couple do construction, and all of them now have short hair and pot bellies.   As if getting drunk wasn’t enough, they were all tripping on mushrooms.  They chose mushrooms specifically because they know I can say no to everything else.

I fought the mushrooms and I fought the battle courageously until I had about three long island iced teas and three shots of Jim Beam.  Then I quietly asked to go out to the car, where my old worst enemy was awaiting me.

Now from what I remember mushrooms usually made me comfortable and relaxed with a lot of grinning and the “zoom” effect.  I remember it usually took a while to kick in.  Maybe the effects were hastened by the stomach coated only in booze and hadn’t seen food all day, but they were quick and they were vicious.  I felt like I had mainlined coke.  My heart was going a thousand beats a minute, my eyes were pulsating, and I wanted the fucking world.  I felt evil and wonderful and ready for the ultra-violence.

The doors opened at the Emerald and we went in.  We were surrounded by goth kids and metal heads.  Suddenly I was better than all of them.  I wanted to rip nose rings out and smack the shit out of these pathetic fools trying so hard to be different, but oddly looking like exactly everyone else.  The thing that pissed me off the most about these kids is that I was them when they were still in diapers.

But the girls….

Goddamn the girls.  Drunk, horny, and bored with these kids who think its uncool to look like you’re enjoying yourself.  They all moped around like a goddamn funeral while their old ladies were tonguing my tonsils and showing me their tits.

By now the music had been playing awhile but in my old age I could not figure out how I ever thought this was music.  All I could hear was noise, but it was beautiful and violent noise.

Ministry started playing and the place erupted.  We tried to remain back (near the bar and the booze) where the old men belonged but the noise and shitty lighting and the bouncing floor were almost hypnotic.  I craved violence and there I was sitting in the back shunning it.

That was about when a young blond wearing a black cowboy hat and fishnet stockings licked my face, grabbed my hand, and towed me into the heart of the mosh pit.  Just the name, “mosh pit”, seems juvenile and stupid, but I was so absolutely fucked and stoned and wonderfully pissed and the music was loud and the lights were flashing and my heart was pounding, it just seemed where I needed to be.

Then some asshat put his fist in my nose and I went down.  I didn’t even see it coming, but I could taste my own blood.  I stood up, looked around, and I found my attacker.  He was about 6′4″,  250 lbs, and he wanted to murder me.  He threw his arms up like he was trying to scare me more than I already was and it occurred to me instantly that if I don’t put him down right fucking now, this guy is going to kill me.  Without hesitation, I grabbed his shirt with one hand and the back of his head with my right hand and drove my forehead into his nose as hard as I possibly could.  I thought my nose was broken, but I knew his was.  He went down, and that was the first time all night I got the “zoom” effect from the mushrooms as blood sprayed everyone standing anywhere nearby.  He did not get back up.

The blond girl in the cowboy hat immediately grabbed me and drug me away before the security guards could find me.  She drug me to the outside isle going back up to the bar, stopped me against, a railing and kissed me.  When she pulled away, my blood was on her face and in the shadows of the flashing lights, it was intoxicating.  Then she grabbed me again and we went out the back exit around the ministry tour bus and into an alley.

As I had her against the dumpster, pants around my ankles a guard come running around the corner as though he just caught us breaking into the bus and I was kinda pissed.  Then he stopped, smiled, turned around, and walked away.  We finished and went back in.

As soon as the door closed we got separated and didn’t see each other again.

The concert finished and I found my friends.  None of them believed what I said, but the blood soaked shirt was pretty hard to ignore.  We said our goodbyes and all went home.

Now every time I have an itch or every time I piss, I’m thoroughly examining my junk.  Any girl that let’s you rail her in an alley, against a dumpster and never even gets your name, is obviously no virgin.

So now I’m afraid my willy may fall off.

I don’t even know where to start on this one.  Drinking + shrooms + mosh pit fight + dumpster sex = say hi to John from Detroit.