The TLP Network

No One and a Half: Banter Between Songs

by on Jan.14, 2008, under Articles, No One and a Half

Scribed by Jason Firestone.

“What’s up you losers! We’re Rotten Black Soul all the way from Vajina, Illinois! We’re on our two-week tour through the towns of everyone on our MySpace friends list who are letting us crash on their couches! That’s Jeff on lead guitar, Colin on rhythm guitar, Fred on bass, Scooter on drums, and my name is MALAMAR!! This song is about burning in acid. It’s called: ‘BURNING!! IN!! ACID!!!!!'”

“Hell yeah! Fuckin make some goddamn motherfucking noise! I can’t hear you!! I STILL CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU!!! No seriously, I’m nearly deaf. I can’t hear shit. This next song is about every dumb fucking bitch who has fucked me over in my life. It’s called… ‘SKULLFUCK CUPCAKES!!!'”

“Everyone who knows our next song, come to the front and scream that shit at the top of your fucking lungs! Especially you, Christina! Yeah, you! Christina’s my roommate. She gives great head. Just kidding, just kidding. I only fucked her once.”

“BATHE!! IN!! BALLS!!!!!”

“I’m gonna dick-slap the next motherfucker that says ‘play Freebird!’ Hey Sound Guy, can I get more vocals in the monitor? Oh, and Colin wants to hear less of his guitar. Uh, Jeff wants more of his guitar in his monitor, Fred doesn’t want to hear himself at all, and Scooter wants more– ah fuck him. On to the next song!”

“That song was called ‘Crimson Silk’ and the one before that was called ‘Mirrors’ and the one before that was called ‘Supercalifuckyourmotherlickmysackanddie’ This next song’s about killing babies. It’s called ‘KILLING!!! BABIES!!!!!'”

“About ten years ago I was sitting in gym class and this girl came out of the locker room. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life. Her eyes were light blue, like a cloudless mid-day sky illuminated by bright sunlight and hope. Her brown hair was long, wavy, and flowing, like the scenes of luscious chocolate being made during the opening credits of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Her glorious breasts were displayed under her gym shirt like two sleeping moons tucked into bed by God himself. I asked her what her name was and she said the most beautiful word I have ever heard: Gloria. We dated for three weeks. The best three weeks of my life. When we made love it was like two souls intertwined as one omnipresent being that manifested through physical connection of our glistening bodies. I still love Gloria, and I leave her voice mail messages everyday as I gaze vacantly into the framed picture of her I have hanging above my bed. This song is about Gloria.”

“Now let’s pick things up a little bit. I know you fuckers know this one: ‘CORPOREAL COPROPHILIC CACOPHONIC COCK!!!'”

“Sound Guy: how many more songs do we got left? One more? Alright I wanna thank Timmy for letting us crash on your floor, Timmy’s mom for baking us those sweet-ass cookies, Blane for getting us beer between songs—you’re a lifesaver bro, that fat chick in the Mortician shirt for showing us your tits—or at least what looks like your tits, John for checking our MySpace page for us when we’re too drunk to do it ourselves, Mom for believing in me, Dad for buying me beer since I was 8, Grandpa for giving me $10 for my birthday, whoever invented beer, and John Hancock for being such a badass motherfucker! Stick around for Tuesday Autumn Whisper, Lately She Walks, and Putrid Fecal Goat Piss! This song is about feeding on the dead! It’s called ‘FEEDING!!! ON!! THE DEAD!!!!'”

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