It's Just Abbey

Are any high school garage bands looking for a lead singer or something? I went to a pool hall last night and was subjected to insanely terrible high school garage bands. It dawned on me that I could be a valuable asset to some sad little band.

Why? Because I can write trite and satanic lyrics at the drop of the hat! Witness!

I am the Angel of Death.
You’re the forgotten wasted spawn of love.
Let us forever live in torment.
I give myself to you, my master, my love,
My final sweet release.
HELL FIRE!

Now I know I can’t exactly sing well but I can yell REALLY loud! While I would like to be part of a good rock band with actual musical ability, I’ll take what I can get. I can’t play an instrument but I can fake it pretty well. The first band I saw last night didn’t even have a bass player and their songs were all called “Death Becomes Me” or “We are all Dead” or “Follow me to Hell.” How hard can it be?

Shattered glass severs my soul
Open the gates to hell.
Death becomes me
My eyes are pools of tar.

It’ll be great! Plus I have been working out so I can schlep my own stuff! I watched three emo boys cart in four amps stacked on top of each other. I bet I could have moved them faster one at a time than they did trying to push the giant tower.

Also, I don’t know anything about doing sound checks but clearly neither did they. There was enough microphone feedback and amp blowing than should have been allowed in an hour time. I watched Spinal Tap, I know all about the number 11!

Into the dawn we must escape
You broke my face
I broke your heart
Climb the ladder of discontent
Descend the stairway of love

I have been looking for a second job and I really think being a diluted rock star would really accent my resume well. Now don’t get me wrong, I am all for garage bands and rock music but not at the hands of these skinny, emo, white boys who have nothing in the world to complain about. Besides, there is no reason to scream into a microphone that is already cranked all the way up. You are performing in a room barely bigger than two moderately sized apartments. I think that the Mexican restaurant next door has had just enough off tempo bass hits from one evening.

OPEN UP YOUR HEART TO ME
LET ME OPEN UP MY LIVE GRENADE
TICK TICK BOOM BITCH!

I should note I am not willing to tattoo my face. I hope that isn’t a deal breaker.