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Billy Bob is at it again.
Hi Children! - he says in his imposibly squeaky voice - No one answers. My name is Billy Bob Brokali and I´m gonna play a song for you.
He is shitfaced, but no one but me can tell. I know because I see how watery his eyes are, how clumsily he moves but mainly because he is in the stage, trying to play a song with a fucking stupid bass guitar instead of a guitar, or a banjo. Or anything other than a fucking bass guitar. He clears his throat, checks the bass and stars playing I can’t decide by The Sisters of Mercy in front of a bored and increasingly drunk audience.
It’s not easy having yourself a good time
Greasing up those bets and betters
Watching out they don’t four-letter
Fuck and kiss you both at the same time
Smells-like something I’ve forgotten
Curled up died and now it’s rotten
I’m not a gangster tonight
Don’t want to be a bad guy
I’m just a loner baby
And now you’re gotten in my way.
If you haven’t heard this song let me tell you that is a very good song: The music is happy and upbeat but the lyrics are like something a psychopath would write, which makes it a song witch makes you nod your head or tap your feet with the rhythm until you realize what horrific shit you are nodding your head and tapping your feet to. Billy Bob´s version was even more horrifying: The rhythm he played was even faster than the original, and, again with a god damn bass guitar. The sound that he made was intolerable, for some reason he was singing a key higher than the one he was playing and a few times he almost fell of the stage. The drunks started booing and throwing shit at him even before he started with the second verse.
I can’t decide
Whether you should live or die
Oh, you’ll probably go to heaven
Please don’t hang your head and cry
No wonder why
My heart feels dead inside
It’s cold and hard and petrified
Lock the doors and close the blinds
We’re going for a ride
The drunks keep booing and screaming. He keeps on playing. A bottle hits the amp and it stops working after a loud bang and a sparke. The drunks go back to the drinks and Billy Bob keeps playing, oblivious to the fact that no one is listening.
He just keeps on playing, crying his eyes out.
It would be very beautiful if it wasnt so sad.
