About a million years ago my friends and I were looking for the weekend punk rock show (a weekly ritual), we ended up in South Central L.A. or somewhere equally as dangerous. After some surreal small talk with the shadey locals they decide we're cool so they guide us to the venue. I remember being in the club's back alley with some people sharing the contents of a small bottle, a.k.a. really cheap wine, when the woman I was talking to points up into the night and says "The gestapo!" I look up and all I see is a blinding beam of pure white light, everyone scatters like, yes you guessed it, roaches. I'm left there in the middle of the spotlight wondering why Scotty is taking so long to beam me up when I feel my arm being grabbed by Alicia who pulls me back into the darkness of the club.
I still don't know who was playing that night.
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