“Dude, I talked to the band. They love your work, big fans, well Dave is. They want to meet ya, talking a concept album, your poems and stories. Freak ‘em out, fuck ‘em up, yeah!”
I said, “So a Scoot Hagland thrash metal album? Was that Disturbed or Ministry again?”
The promoter jittered, “Right. We just need to go to Chicago to meet and hash this out. Can you snag us a flight?”
I finished my Nitro, got up and walked out.