The Coffin Blood Party
Next to Nothing
There are times when bad things turn around, like when I was arrested inNogalesand my Hellish stay in jail, turned into a rocking road trip. Then there are other times, when everything seems to be going better than planned and then turns to shit. These days when I am planning something, I almost want some little thing to go wrong; just to get it out of the way, because I feel that if things are going too smoothly, I know I am on deck for a big fall.
This tale begins with me getting a small gig helping out the owner of the Arizona Opera Company. It was an easy job, mostly just helping him purge their warehouse. One of the things he wanted to get rid of was a coffin, which was used for one of their performances. I carried it outside and it went strait into my station wagon. This was at the beginning of my year of living with Geff.
Now if you will allow me to backtrack for a moment, I can explain why I would want this flat-topped coffin. If you ever heard the expressions starting with nothing or hitting rock bottom, that would have explained our situation at that time pretty well. This was when Geff and I for we were about as flat lined as an American living inside a house could get, at least financially. Our lack of material goods was actually comic, but as they also say, when you are down there is nowhere to go but up, which is what we at least tried to do.
Let me give you a rundown of what we had, since it will not take long. There were a few old ratty sofas, which had been left behind, as well as a dirty microwave and that was about it. I had a futon, desk, bookcase, and an old dresser, which made me a material God compared to Geff, who did not even have a bed. I did help him get one though.
I heard that he still had one at his mother’s house, which for whatever reason, he was unable to get. I suppose that the fact that my car was not big enough to move the bed did not help. So I told this guy with a truck, that Geff wanted his help getting the bed, then I told Geff that this guy was going to help him get a bed, so without either of them knowing that it was really me pulling the strings, we managed to get my buddy his bed, so at least he would not have to sleep on the floor.
We, however, had no television or any stereo of any kind and when we first moved in at least, no girlfriends. It was not quite the swinging bachelor pad we would have liked it to be. Still there were problems there too. Geff and I had very differing options on what a bachelor pad should look like. I figured that since we were single, we should keep the place relatively nice, in case chicks came by. Geff however, felt the opposite. In his eyes, since we had no ladies, there was no reason to clean and had no problem letting beer cans clutter up every flat surface in the place.
We were each working, he more than I, but were pretty much broke at least at first. So I started raiding any dumpster I saw on the way home. I was often on my bike, so there was only so much I could get, but I would grab anything I could and bring it home. Soon we had the classic milk crate shelves, complete with strange artificial furs covering, which I had scrounged somewhere. This gave one side of the room the look of a squarish polar bear.
Then we really started to get our cool on, when I snagged a single speaker cassette tape player. Oh yes, nothing like dropping a cassette into that baby, when you were trying to impress the ladies. Next I bought a television about as old as I was from a junky chick, which had a bunch of eighties video games with it. We were rocking now.
Then the big addition, the classy one, was the acquisition of our black vanished coffin. As I said, it had a flat top prefect for beers and more importantly, gaming lead figures. It was a great gaming table, probably the best I even had, since it stretched from one side of the sofas to the other. It also allowed, due to its space, for truly epic battles, complete with armies of lead figures.
Still with all our horror and fantasy minded friends, it did not take long for them to start asking what was inside the coffin. The thing was not a real coffin, of course, but much like a real one, had been nailed shut. Our inquiring minds wanted to know, was there anything in the coffin?
So on one dark night, with the crashing of lightning growing closer, we carried the coffin outside. The wind picked up, as I got my tools ready. Then I set myself to task. I began to pry at the lid off the oblong box. It turned out to be harder than it looked, but with a screech of rusted nails, I was able to finally pry it free! Looking inside we saw…nothing.
Yeah, it was a disappointment, although I am not sure what we were hoping to find. Still, it gave me an idea for a party, a coffin blood party. This was not going to be any ordinary party either, it was going to be the wildest party I had ever thrown, or at least so I had hoped.
Being the punk rocker and very broke scrounger that I was, I started to look into what we could use to spice up the party for free. The first thought that came to mind were the dozens of computer monitors, which Dan have left in the back of the house to rot. My next step was to invite a bunch of gutterpunks over who were even more broke than me. With the promise of cheap beer and pasta, I set these boys to work digging holes into my side yard. For most of them, this would be the closest thing to a job they had in months.
What were we doing? Well, burying the monitors into the ground so their screens were pointing at the sky of course. The grand finale was then were rigged the television into the ground the same way, but made it so that it could be turned on. Seeing the distorted snowing screen glowing from out of the ground as actually pretty cool and we were on our way towards weirdness.
Next a wide black plastic sheet, that I had scammed somewhere, was stretched between the house and the fence. Soon the stars were blocked out by this dark firmament, creating the effect that one was inside a cave. This, along with the glowing screens, mixed the primitive feeling of being underground with a techno-trash-industrial feel.
The next day I have a visitor. It was an old school punk rocker, who I vaguely knew, but was not real good friends with, since he had become a full fledged junky. Our exchange went something like this.
“Hey, Alex Bone, I heard you’re having a party with lots of vodka.”
“You didn’t get the vodka yet, did you?”
“Would you pay me like ten dollars per fifth? I’ll only grab the best stuff.”
“Ah, sure, I guess so.’
And soon those industrious junkies were stealing booze from all over town and selling it to me at a cut-rate cost. Now I had my supplies. A few gallons of red Cool-aid later and I knew I was ready to rock. Everything was going smoothly, nearly perfect. This was going to be great. I should have known better.
The Coffin Blood Party
I got a phone call the day of the party. There was a band in town fromSeattleand they wanted to play at the party. Right on, I thought, now we were even going to have a band play for free, this party was going to be really rockin’ now.
Despite what would happen later, the party started well. Everyone friend, as well as pretty much everyone I knew, was showing up for this one. We lined the coffin with plastic, and then filled it with the blood colored vodka. Everyone loving dipping his or her cups into the bloody coffin and soon, the Everclear began to take hold of many of us.
The glowing screens illuminated the scene strangely as the contests started. We did the maul toss into individual, as well as pyramids of computer monitors, which exploded wonderfully. This was great fun and I stood there smiling under my triple spiked mohawks as my best friends in the world surrounded me.
It was about then that trouble started.
The band arrived and I was doubly dismayed to find that its lead singer was the bastard from the band Chicken, who had slept with my dreadful ex-wife, and then to make matters eight hundred times worse, he had brought her along with him!
I cannot begin to truly explain the knife that was soon twisting within my gut, but sometimes one is too shocked to do the right thing. I should have cancelled the band and kicked them out, but nearly everyone was oblivious to my personal plight and was stoked to see a band for free, so I foolishly acquiesced and let them go ahead and play.
They had not played for very long before the police arrived. This is where things began to happen so quickly that I lost control and chaos ruled before I could think of what to do to stop it. The police said what they always said, “shut this thing down and go home.”
Alvinquickly told everyone that they could come over to his rehearsal space and that the band could even play there. Then before I really knew what was happening ninety percent of our guests had left, which included my current girlfriend at the time. Only my true friends remained behind. In some respects this was an important lesson for me, for it helped my crystallize the difference between real friends and people you just know. You real friends will stick by you when it is important.
It is a lesson, I have never forgotten.
It took a little while for the fact that my girlfriend had left to sink in and not as long for my elated mode to sink into depression. Geff almost got into a fight with one obnoxious punk, who had been too drunk to leave. The kid was putting his sandy boots on the edge of the coffin lid and was getting dirt into our booze. He should have smacked him.
Soon the only people left were the Cludhouse/gaming gang, theVerdeValleykids, Andy Vernon, and Chris Rat. We had some fun as we reenacted some of our more youthful days, by doing silly drunk things, such as when Chris Brooks crashed on the roof of the house with his arm hanging off the side.
A serious funny thing happened an hour before sunrise, as only a few friends remained conscious enough to keep my moopy ass company. It was five in the morning, the whole city was asleep, and we must have been about the only people who were still in our yards at that hour. Yet for some reason two large forms have chosen our yard to invade.
I saw these large dark bodiess, which were about the size of a dog, but they were up in a tree. Then before I had even identified them, they began to screw. “Woo-woo-wooooooooo!”
Yes, they were owls and they had chosen to screw in our yard in front of us. In was a strange ending to a bi-polar night.
Later, I discovered that of course my girlfriend had slept with a member of that asshole’s band. I can only imagine that this must have given them a good laugh at my expensive. Some events are bitter pills…bitter pills. When she told me, I had a moment of rage, where I tore down the plastic and other party decorations, as the anger raced through me.
Yet, this was another lesson. You get what you pay for. Whether they are low rent friends or low rent girls, you can have people like that in your life, but do not try to expect them to do more than leech off your money and time. One good friend is equal to a hundred acquaintances and this should never be forgotten. Also, and maybe this is almost as important, beware of any event where there has been no problems, for that is when the real hammer is about to drop and most likely it will be hitting you in the middle of the head.