Green Room

---

-Pat:

Sh*t.

Sam.

Pat:
Sam, wake up.

-What's wrong?

- F***.

-What'd you do, tiger?

-When did we crash?

-Sam:
You tell us, a**hole.

-I guess I fell asleep.

-Yeah...

With the engine running.

-Fully charged.

Did you kill the battery too?

-You hear the radio?

-There's a skating rink

about 11 miles from here.

Big parking lot.

-Ice skating

or rollerskating?

-Just says they're open.

Why?

-Reece:

Hockey players whoop more ass.

-I don't know, dude.

I've seen some pretty

bad-ass roller skaters.

At 7:
00 am?

All right,

I'll come with.

-Sam?

-Sam:
Tad.

-Tad:

Awesome.

Hey, I work nights,

but I'll catch up

with you guys for breakfast.

-Okay.

-I'm in 2-r up the stairs.

Just crash wherever.

Uh, park in the side lot.

Rear doors tight to the walls

so no one steals your sh*t.

-All right.

Yeah?

-Sam:

These all have mushrooms.

-This dude's legit.

-Reece:

Why? 'Cause he wakes up

at 5:
00 in the morning

to put jizz in his hair?

-Tiger:

Mm...

No. He's true.

-Ree-ree.

Who you callin'?

-Is that your business?

-I get the bills.

-I'm going to bed.

-We're gonna drink.

Mornin'.

-Hello.

You were the first

to fall asleep?

-Okay, I'm with the ain't rights

from Washington, D.C.

-Uh, technically, we're

from Arlington.

-Tad:

Nice. Uh, and this is

for seaside hcfm.

-Not for the zine?

-Tad:
I'll do

a print version for that,

but this will run

on our college station.

Uh, if that's cool.

-Sam:

Yeah.

-So, you guys working

on anything new?

-Sam:

Mm, yeah. A few songs.

Maybe enough for,

like, a seven inch.

-Tad:

Sweet. Will you

actually press one?

-Yeah, if we can afford it.

-Tad:

Yeah, no, I really dig

the analog style.

Uh, which brings

me to the fact

you guys are hard to find.

Why no social media presence?

-Reece:

That's because

booking more shows,

selling more records

would blow.

-It's not hard rock.

-No one wants to starve, but...

When you take it all virtual,

you lose...

The texture.

-What do you mean "texture"?

-Just... you gotta be there.

The music is for effect.

It's time and aggression...

-Technical wizardry.

-And it's shared live...

And then it's over.

The energy can't last.

-Unless you're iggy pop.

-Yeah, well good for him,

but I don't think I wanna

be in my 70's still listening

to minor threat.

-But tiger does.

-I won't live to be 70, so...

-Okay, so, uh,

this is a good seg

into one of my traditions.

Uh, for each of you,

name your desert island band.

-Only one?

-Reece:

If I were to

say black sabbath,

would I get

ozzy and dio?

-No caveats.

Just name the band.

-Okay.

-Misfits.

No, the damned.

-Um...

-Tiger:
Oh, f*** it. Misfits.

-Sam:
Poison idea.

-Cro-mags.

-Tad:

That's a good one also.

-Reece:

Why don't you say

something, dude?

-Tiger:

What about steely Dan?

-Hm. No, candlebox.

-He's a juggalo.

-Uh... uh...

-Tiger:
Britney Spears?

-Hey-- hey, you--

you-- you're gonna

edit this, right?

-I can chop it up a bit.

-Tiger:
Oh, you should

let it go raw, man.

-Um, when is this gonna air?

Like, maybe we should

plug the show?

-Yeah. Um...

My last show

at the muni center

didn't end well.

Uh, lots of vomit,

some fecal matter.

County commissioner got wind

and pulled my permit.

You guys were

already en route.

-No, you gotta

give us a kill fee.

-We went 90 miles

out of our way.

-I've got a backup lined up.

Um, lunch,

50% cut on the door,

and you guys would headline.

-Is anyone still on the bill?

-No.

Turn that sh*t off.

-I gave you my cut.

Uh, the house got theirs,

but I didn't--

-split four ways,

it's six bucks each.

-$6.87.

.88 if you just round up...

You dip-sh*t, fashion punk

clown motherf***er.

-Christ.

-Now easy there, jiu-jitsu.

-Yeah. We don't wanna

go to jail, too.

I think you just

ended this tour.

-F*** yes. Let's call it.

-Sam:

All right, so we'd

have to beeline to DC.

We have enough

for one tank.

We'd have to siphon

the rest of the way.

-Reece:

That's not a problem.

We got rice and beans.

-We can head up north.

Take the 80 all the way.

-What the f***

you doing, man?

-Let me call my cousin.

I can get you guys

a solid gig.

-Where? Here?

-Scene is dead.

You'd have to dip

down closer to Portland.

-Tiger:

I say we just gank his vinyl.

-All right, so all set.

Uh, matine tomorrow.

Door's at 1:
00,

you guys are on at 3:00.

I texted the addy.

-Sam:
How much?

-Uh, $350.

Minus your tab.

And, um, just so you know,

it's mostly boots

and braces down there.

-Skins? There's some

at every show.

-What? D.M.S.? Sharp?

-Uh, right-wing,

or technically ultra-left,

but not affiliated.

-And your cousin's cool?

-Tad:
Yeah, yeah.

Uh, don't talk politics,

but stick with Daniel.

-I'd tag along,

but he and his girl are

coming here to crash.

Gotta vacuum and sh*t.

-So they're not,

like, burning crosses

or anything, right?

Like, we just play rock?

-Uh, I'd play

your earlier stuff.

Heavier stuff.

I usually keep the originals,

but since this one

never happened...

Can I still

run that interview?

-Yeah.

What station is it on?

-Uh, fm 85.5.

Breakfast with champions.

Thanks.

-Reece:
Yo, tad-pole...

I'm sorry I almost

obliterated you, man.

-Not a problem.

Take it easy.

-At least the dude can draw.

-Yeah, it's pretty sweet.

-Yo, pat...

You know, there's something

I've never told people...

Or anyone,

for that matter.

-What?

-Was that real? Ew!

-Tiger:

Open your window.

-Sam:

Good.

-You tad's friends?

-Uh, he sent us.

Are you cousin Dan?

-Daniel:

Daniel.

You guys look hammered.

-Tiger:

One night at tad's

will do that to you.

And if your girl's

gonna be crashing--

-don't mention that.

-Okay, I was just--

-yeah, no worries whatsoever.

Just shut the f*** up

about it him and me and her.

-Yeah.

-Drummer? Drummer?

Using the house kit

or are you using yours?

-I'll use mine.

-Okay. Load in's here.

-Sam:

That's bullshit.

-"Aren't rights"? Yeah.

-Stage rest in here.

Don't block the hallway.

The owner doesn't f*** around

with the fire codes.

Sound check in 15.

You're on in 20.

-Got it.

-Pat:

Hey, tiger...

Are you okay?

-Yeah, I'm fine.

-Sam:

Are these guys not creeps?

--They run a tight ship.

-Except it's a u-boat.

-Hey, y'all...

I got a dumb idea.

-Stagehand:

Where'd you say

the power supply was?

-It's like a mini-transformer...

-Testing, testing one, two.

Meow.

-Stagehand:
Got it!

-Pat:

There's no guitar.

-Or not.

-This was your f***ing idea.

You back out now,

i tell them you're Jewish.

Go.

-Evening, ladies and gentlemen.

We are the ain't rights,

or the aren't rights.

Either one...

Two, three, four!

-Crowd:

F*** off! Come on!

-Thank you.

That was a cover.

What should we do next?

-Sam:

Coronary.

-Tiger:

This one's a treat.

-Sam:
What happened

to fire code?

-Yeah, sorry guys.

We have to make room

for the headliner.

-Cowcatcher, right?

-Big Justin:

Yes. You gotta clear out, okay?

Here you are.

-Thank you.

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