Paris-Texas excerpt

It was a horrible, horrible show, not least because Belarus Sweetbiscuit Aspartame had for some inexplicable reason appeared, causing Aias Anterograde to vomit stomach contents that he had no recollection of ingesting in the first place. The bands’ performances were also hands down all around completely ridiculously awful. Like, Mixed Nuts or Bug awful. You just want the flailing to end, for everyone’s sake. He had seen Paris-Texas play before, but this show was completely different for some reason. This time, the lead singer, Peer Gyntecologist, just stood and gyrated his hips for an hour and a half while the rhythm guitarist, Alamo Peanutwine, rubbed his guitar against Peer’s shoulder blades. The guitar was not plugged in. Every once in a while, the drummer, Antietam Mustardbrow, would weep maniacally and slap his hand against a snare drum, but that barely qualified as music. The guitarist, Mandelbrot Pumpernickel, and the bassist, Horsedoodle Vanderslice, just huddled and cried together in the corner during the entire set. Finally they all just gave up, milled around confusedly on the stage for a few silent minutes, and then Peer bellowed, “Thank you, you’ve been great! Nobody rocks like the town we’re currently in!” Then they shuffled off stage single file and made a bee line for the back door. They each split off one by one and staggered in different directions into the night.