Gretchen, The Hell's Angels....And Me. Part VII
Back To The Story.........
Mike, our lead guitar player was a very strange man. He stood about 6'4" but always stooped down so as not to draw attention to himself.
Once, when I ragged on him about lack of proper posture, he gave me a conspiratorial look and said.
"It's a gotdamn plot dude! Those little short fuckers live FOREVER!" he whispered.
"What the hell are you spoutin' off about?" I was stupified.
He looked around as if any sane person would give a fat rat's ass what the hell we were talking about.
I wouldn't swear to it but....I think marijuana was involved.
Shocking! Just damned shocking!
Mike looked at me and with complete sincerity uttered these words.....
"Goliath, Abe Lincoln, even John fuckin' Wayne!" he almost shouted.
I took another hit....Oh Yeah...I suppose there WAS pot smokin' going on!
"Mikey....what the hell are you talkin' about?" I asked.
"Just think about it Ron....Mickey Rooney, Paul Williams, Robert Blake, all those horrible short little fuckers are still alive suckin' up good air and ALL the GOOD tall fuckers are dead!" he was damned near foamin' at the mouth.
"Mike...get to the point....PLEASE!" I insisted.
He looked at me as though I were a simple minded pupil who couldn't follow the whole, "A is for Apple" concept.
"Dude.....they SHOOT all the tall fuckers!" he fairly sceamed at me.
"And THAT'S why you crouch down? To look short?" I asked.
"Yep." he said.
"Mikey...I hate to fuck up your theory but, John Wayne died of cancer and Goliath took a sharp rock in the middle of his damned forehead!" I told him. "Now granted, ole Abe did have a cap shot in his melon but, that theory of yours is seriously flawed." I believed I was making a damned good argument.
Mike simply looked at me and said....
"Well, I didn't say it right but....damn it....you know EXACTLY what I mean!"
"Fuck YOU Ron!" he spat.
I thought about what he'd said for a second.
"Actually Mike...NO...I DON'T know what you mean!" I told him.
I continued my rebuttal of his ridiculous theory.
"You said that All tall guys get shot but that's not..." I began.
"I already said "Fuck You"! he shouted.
I'm not sure if he was actually pissed off or just nuts....I never was sure about Mike!
"Mike, all I was saying was..."
He stood up to his full 6'4" and roared.....
"I said FUCK YOU....this conversation is OVER sir!!" as he stormed off....indignantly!
THAT was Mike K.
Back To Real Time.....that night.
Mike came up to me and was crouched WAY down. Damn, he would have passed for a 5'8" hunchback!!
"Ron....every ONE of these fuckers are totin' guns!" he hissed.
I had to perform a friggin' deep knee bend to meet him at eye level as I spoke to him.
"Mikey.....I don't give a shit if you hide behind that Marshall amp but play that guitar and shut the hell up. It's gonna be ok." I laughed.
He looked at me as if I was the nutcase here.
"Go for it dude....you ain't exactly SHORT you know! Those little fuckers are gunnin' for you" he seemed comforted by the thought.
I turned to the the guys and told them that we were gonna play "Gimme Three Steps" by Skynard and they all agreed.
Mike sidled over to me and said...
"Before this night's over, that might be our fuckin' theme song!"
We played a few songs and they were lovin' us.
The biker chicks made it interesting by periodically flashing hooters at us with reckless abandon.
As we played, I kept an eye out for Gretchen but, so far....she was a no show.
The first set went really well and, by the time we stopped rockin', I think the audience was ready to take a break too.
I stepped up to the microphone and said.
"Thank ya'll, we're gonna take a little break now but, we'll be back in a few minutes."
Suddenly, Gino came up onto the stage and grabbed Tony's microphone.
"Let's hear it for these boys!" he shouted.
The place went NUTS!
He walked to the edge of the stage and placed an empty (thank God) Pickled Pig's Feet jar on the floor. (it's a Southern thing you know.....the pigs feet)
"Fill this motherfucker up and they might jam a little bit more!" he said.
By the time we had made it off the stage, the jar was damned near full!
Larry, the drummer walked up to me.
"Would you look at that tip jar?" he asked.
"Hell, looks like we hit pay dirt dude."
"No....I mean it." he said. "LOOK at the damned tip jar!"
I couldn't believe my eyes.
There WAS alot of cash but there were also bags of pot, pills and baggies of white powder which, of course, could only have been confectioners sugar......or COCAINE!
As I walked to the bar, I was greeted by leather clad people who were shaking my hand, complimenting us and, generally, being very supportive.
Once I finally got to the bar, Big Wanda handed me something in a big glass.
"What the hell is this?" I asked.
"Taste it." she said.
I did and it wasn't bad at all. It had a bite to it that I couldn't quite put my finger on but...it was good. At least I couldn't taste any tequila which, for me, was a good thing. I HATE tequila! Or...rather, tequila hates ME. I once burned my moustache off drinking flaming tequila shots in the Philipines.....a whole other story there.
I took another slug of the drink.
"So...what do you call it?" I asked Big Wanda.
"We call it, "On The House"." she laughed.
"Oh...because it's free?" I asked.
She grinned at me.
"No baby....we call it that 'cause my old man invented it one night and the next mornin' we found him passed out on the roof of my house, buck naked with his dick in the chimney." she roared.
Everyone around us was laughing hysterically.
"What's in it?" I asked while taking another swallow.
"Well, it's part vodka, part gin, a couple of yellow jackets and half a gram of Coke."
"Tell me you're kidding." I said.
She just grinned.
"Sweet boy, I'll tell you that my tits give chocolate milk but, I'll never tell you I'm kidding."
I left the drink on the bar and headed for the parking lot until I was stopped by 'Gultch'.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" he demanded.
"I'm just going outside to burn one and get some fresh air." I said honestly.
"No." he said flatly.
"Oh yeah?...why not?" I asked.
"Anything you wanna do bro...you can do it inside. This is a private club but the law watches the parking lot like a hawk."
"Ok dude...anything you say." I said.
A little time went by before the front door almost flew open and in stormed Gretchen and an entourage of a dozen people including a half dozen girls.
She ran up to me and kissed me.
"Sorry I'm late but it couldn't be helped." she said.
"Hey, it's your birthday party...how can you be late?" I asked.
"Well, I'm here now so, I'm going to grab a drink....you want one?"
"No way...I'm sticking with beer...in a bottle. I don't trust Big Wanda since she stuck me with a drink called "On The House"!" I told her.
She didn't know what I meant so I explained.
"Holy crap!" she screamed. "You DRANK it?"
"Well, maybe half of it and I'm starting to "Idle" a bit but I'm ok...for now." I laughed.
She went to the bar and I watched her as she crossed the room. One of the guys in her entourage, walked over to her and grabbed her by the arm...not gently.
She spun around to face him and I could see him speaking angrily. Naturally, being a gallant Southern gentleman, I started to ride to the rescue when, all of the sudden, she reached out and pulled his face down to hers and kissed him...passionately....for quite a while!
What the hell?
I've never been one to be willing to "share the wealth" if you catch my drift and there was no way in hell I was gonna start now.
"Screw her." I thought to myself.
Well, it was time to play again anyway so, I joined to guys back on stage and was talking with them when Gretchen came running up to me.
"Where did you get to?" she asked.
"Right here darlin'... gotta earn my money you know." I said cooly.
"Is something wrong?" she asked
I figured I might as well get this over with now.
"Gretchen, I saw you and that guy over there swappin' spit and that's cool...we ain't exactly in a relationship BUT....I ain't into sharing so, run along and have a good time with your little friends, I've gotta play now." I was pissed but, I don't think I showed it...much.
She looked a bit hurt or confused or both.
"He's not my boyfriend or anything. He came with us and he thinks I'm with him but I'm not...I'm with you if you want me." she said.
"Darlin', you are a gorgeous little thing and it's been fun but, why don't you just hang out with him tonight...maybe we can see each other another time."
Like a veil coming over her face, she underwent a transformation in a matter of seconds. She got PISSED!
"What's the matter?" she asked. "Are you scared of Chase?"
"Chase? Is that his real name?" I asked.
"Yes, why?" she demanded.
I just laughed and shook my head.
"Oh nothing...listen why don't you and Chase go have fun..I've got work to do." I told her. "Ya'll have a good time."
Thankfully, she turned and stormed off to....Chase.
She was glaring at me as she groped ole Chase in the crotch while kissing him.
Geez....Gino was right! This chick was a nut!
Before we could get started playing again, who should come striding to the stage but....you guessed it...Gino.
"Fucked you over didn't she bro?" he was grinning.
"Yeah, I guess she did but, you know how it is....live and learn." I said.
He clapped me on the shoulder and leaned close.
"In a little while, she's gonna beg me to kick your ass all over this place you know." he said with a touch of a chuckle in his voice.
I stared up at him.
"Are you going to?" I asked with great interest in his answer.
He just laughed and turned to walk away.
"Hey Giant dude...I asked you a question!" I shouted over the crowd noise.
He just cocked his head to one side and said...
"I don't think so but.....don't hold me to it." he chuckled.
Well SHIT !
We played the next set and, during the entire 45 minutes to an hour, Gretchen and Chase bumped, groped, kissed, fondled, spindled and debauched each other not ten feet in front of me! It was actually pretty damned entertaining and hilarious to watch but...Chase kept giving me a look that I'd seen before and did NOT like.
This little college puke was trying to get all threatening with me.
Dear God....why me?
We finished the set to an uproar of applause which was quickly followed by outrage that we were actually going to take a friggin' break!
Well, I was in a particularly testy mood all of a sudden so.....me....being me...I blurted out.
"Hey, shut the hell up. I'm doing ya'll a favor! We're gonna sound like the friggin' Allman Brother's after ya'll get a little drunker!" I yelled.
They LOVED it!
This time, as I left the stage, Tony grabbed me by the arm and pointed to the "tip jar". He was grinning.
The jar was full and there was money all over the floor around it intermixed (is that a word?) with drugs of all kinds. Rolled joints, pills, baggies, those little handmade paper envelopes with, God knows what in 'em and last, but certainly not least....
Ya'll gotta just trust me on this one....
Beside the tip jar sat a brand new chain saw with the price tag still hanging on it!
Now, who the hell thought a musician would know how to start a chain saw much less possess the work ethic to actually USE one is beyond me but.....there it was, big as life.
A Homelite as I recall.
To Be Continued..............if blogger doesn't screw me over again!! I've written this drivel TWICE today!! It disappeared on me once.
The good news is that the end is in sight...the tale is almost over.