Fuck if I'll ever play the city again.
I get that you're a tired old, for lack of a better term, "promotor," and you don't care if we've been on tour for three weeks, smell like shit, feel and look homeless, but with seventy-five plus people there paying eight bucks a pop I think we can do a little better than twenty-seven lousy bucks. I get that we didn't bring the most people (although I counted nine tally marks next to our name, which should have allotted us at least sixty bucks), but maybe if you didn't schedule us at seven o'clock for the punk rock matinee show some of our friends could have gotten off work and made it. I almost wanted to give the money back and tell her not to worry about it, but she was so busy burying her face in cocaine in the back room she probably wouldn't have noticed.
But tonight is Brooklyn, and lord do I love Brooklyn.
Didja hear how we got wasted in Danbury? We'll be back up for the annual Gut Rot Crew July 4th BBQ. Now that we're official members and all.
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