I Hate the Beastie Boys
by Michele Christopher
I've had a bunch of fun ones but really never any that stuck out in my mind except for one. Most of them were just wasted days and nights. For awhile, before it got too big, there was always a cool show in San Francisco. I don't know if they do that stuff anymore cause this was a long time ago. Been years since I went to those ones. Like every year some up and coming band would play some pretty big place and that was pretty much the last time you would ever see them at a small club. So those stories are always kind of depressing.
But, there is one or two I have. The first one I'm not really too sure how much I will go into cause I know the person this happened to reads this site. Meh. Fuck it. He tells the story so I guess it is ok to repeat it. After all, I was there too. So apologies out to my brother if he didn't want this one told.
When I was younger, my parents didn't trust myself and my brother for shit. I mean, we were on lock down back in those days. With all of the shit we had already pulled, they weren't going to trust us alone anywhere. We were kids but I think my parents already had us figured out as little troublemakers. Because of this, we were never left alone. I know, I was young. It took awhile before I started not coming home, but as I said, we were young.
Anyways, New Years was coming and my parents thought the best way to keep us out of trouble was to take us to Tahoe and hole us up in a cabin for a few days while they went out and partied. It was a good plan. How much damage can two stranded kids do? So they had their plan. Put us away with only the remote controller and an unlocked liquor cabinet. Well, the unlocked part wasn't in their plan but it made it into ours.
So they take off. We mix drinks. Boring stuff. Two drunk kids getting shitfaced. Weeeee. After a few hours, I was feeling a little tipsy and bored as hell. Sitting on the couch. Watching TV. All night. Life couldn't get more boring. I sipped some more of whatever I was drinking as my brother grabbed the controller and started to flip it around. Oh great. MTV New Years. My life was fucking complete now. I sat watching this new band, The Beastie Boys, act like total idiots for about a half hour before I couldn't take it anymore. Fuck this shit. I grabbed the controller and turned on some cartoons as my brother whined to me to turn it back. Fuck those idiots. We started struggling and I came out victorious.
This should have been the end, right? Well, nooooooooooo. He had other plans. As I innocently watched cartoons, he grabbed a fire shovel and started beating in my head. Jesus Christ, those hurt. About three whacks on the head and I was bleeding. Can't get it away from him without getting more blood on my face.
Well this is just great. He was in full on wompin' mode as I just covered my face and my nuts. After a few more whacks, I decided he wasn't getting tired and I was seeing stars. I made a break for it as he chased me down beating the back of my head.
A quick look to the left revealed my escape. Into the kitchen and over the counter. That would be how I would escape. He couldn't follow me. He was too big.
That last whack sent me reeling. I was in full on pass out mode. There would be no jumping over counters or Tarzan type escape moves. I was going down hard. I ran a few feet into the kitchen and peered for any type of defense weapon. A stick, a chain, anything to get him off my back and away from that fucking fire shovel that always hit me so perfectly.
Then I saw it.
A knife. 6 inch blade. I grabbed it and whipped around. His body kept moving toward me as I pushed in to him. Right in the gut.
Shock and terror as he pulled back to look at what happened. Hell, I didn't even know what happened. I pulled out the knife and just stood there. He looked down at his shirt. A clean rip into the cotton told me that I had just stabbed him. I looked at the blade. His plasma went about five inches on the knife. I got him good.
I dropped the knife and just stared.
"Damn. You stabbed me."
"Can we not tell mom and dad?"
This is the weird part. He didn't bleed. For about 15 seconds we stood, mouths open, looking at the wound. Enough time for me to think of an excuse or some kind of way to cover this up so mom and dad woul......
Then it happened.
Blood covered his shirt in a matter of seconds. He dropped to the ground. A pool of blood circled him.
Like you guys would know what to do. The blood was touching my feet now. A pool of it getting bigger by the second as he tried to hold his guts in.
See, this is the part of the story where calm and cool reactions probably saved his life. I told him to shut up and I grabbed the phone. 911 would be here. I know it. We pay our taxes for this shit, right? But, there in comes the problem. I didn't know where we were at. I know nowadays that they can tell where you are at anytime, but remember, I was a kid.
The paramedic or whoever answered the phone told me to get his feet up. Then the weird questions came. Who did it? Were you trying to kill? Do you have violent tendencies? Can you please go outside and wait for the police to come while you are face down?
So the cops show up and handcuff me. They shove me in the back of the car as the paramedics worked on my brother. The knife was grabbed as evidence and I thought I would be taken away to jail. I mean, c'mon, I was cold as hell. I had no shoes on in the middle of a snowstorm. Let's just get this done and get me out on bail.
*In all truth, I was scared shitless. I had never been to jail before and I had no idea how this kind of stuff worked.
So I was cuffed and cold. Happy fucking New Years. Take me away. But, no. I wasn't done. The cops had to tell my parents. This is when the story gets a little surreal. They went to the party that my parents were at and knocked on the door. Sitting in the back of the squad car, I pretty much got to see the entire thing. My mom walking outside to talk to the cop. Her collapsing and screaming while my father screamed something about who would do such a thing.
The cop slowly turned around and pointed at me in the car. I swear , I could see my father's temple about to burst. Like I could do anything. If I was really a smart ass I would have screamed something like "They did this to me! They locked me up with those lunatics from Planet Zeldron! It is not I who am crazy but they who are crazy!" or something like that, but in all truth, I really wasn't feeling up to my usual bullshitting self. So they took me in.
I don't know how many jails you guys have ever been in, but let me tell you, the Tahoe jail is pretty plush. I mean, I've been in some rat holes in my life but this one was the fucking Taj Mahal. TVs and and padded holding cells so my ass wouldn't get cold. They even gave me booties when I told them I was chilly. So I guess the point of this is if you are going to get arrested, do it Tahoe. They have nice cells. I give them four out of five Orange Jumpsuits for their hospitality and cleanliness.
After a few hours, I was taken down to someone's office where they asked me what happened. I told them "I really didn't like the Beastie Boys" and "is my brother ok?"
They took all the information down and my dad picked me up. There were charges but they kinda dropped them. I went to see my brother while I was still in my jail booties. He was all fucked up on some pills and some kind of drip. The doctors told me that if I would have moved an inch in any direction with the knife he would have been dead.
My dad tossed away his shirt that was getting crusty from the amount of dried blood on it.
What else can you say?
I mean, at that point in time, what can you say? I told him I was real sorry and I was glad he wasn't dead cause that would suck if he was.
And that is why I don't like the Beastie Boys.
Happy New Years from FTTW! - T
Turtle swears he will never Fight For His Right to Party