Strangle The Virgin by Bud (Part One)
The dingy underground bar was poorly lit, originally built as a bomb shelter in the 1940’s but has since been transformed into a concert venue for fringe forms of music. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and spilled beers. As the concert goers waited patiently the room slowly filled with distortion laden feedback coming from the large amplifiers on the small stage in the corner of the room. The third band of the evening was about to start their set.
“How are you fuckers tonight?!” A dainty, feminine voice asked over the PA system, the heavily bearded, heavily tattooed, leather clad audience of death metal fans responded with a few shouts and a few groans.
“We are Strangle the Virgin and this first one is called Skullfuck Lobotomy!” The drum sticks clicked together 1, 2, 3, 4 and the room exploded.
“BWHAAAAAAAAAAAAA” the dainty, feminine singer mutated her small voice into a monstrous, guttural roar. The drummer’s snare blasted like machine gun fire and the pounding of the double bass rumbled the concert goers into a swirling dervish of a mosh pit that encompassed the entire barroom floor. The down tuned guitar transitioned from thick heavy rhythms that caused the whole room to bounce, to downstrokes that ripped through the room like a chainsaw. The bass guitar tone overpowered everything with a fuzzy grumble that vibrated even back to the far reaches of the bar where two concert goers sat in awe.
“HOLY SHIT! THESE CHICKS FUCKING RULE!” The one shouted to the other over the chaos. The heavy metal scene in general was short on female voices and the brutal world of death metal was no exception.
On vocals was Liz, a tall slim natural blonde who had shaved most of her hair off and the remaining was dyed a vivid red. She mostly wore black band t-shirts with the sleeves ripped off showing the various tattoos that adorned her arms. Tonight was no different as she wore an old Mayhem shirt, a Norwegian black metal band famous for their members murdering each other, one of her favorites.
Lead guitar was Megan, but everyone called her Meg. She was shorter, heavy set and did everything in her power to hide her feminine figure behind baggy tattered jeans and heavy metal band T-shirts. For tonight's special show she wore her father's old Iron Maiden T-shirt which was drenched with sweat dripping from her shoulder length raven black hair.
The bass guitar player, Emily, was an insane ball of energy that bounced all over the stage swinging her guitar around, stomping on the ground and head banging violently. It didn’t matter that the poor ventilation in the underground bar and the lights from the stage meant sweltering heat, she wore long sleeves with a hole cut in the wrist to slip her thumb through to cover her psoriasis covered arms which brought her a great deal of embarrassment. She wore a brightly colored Parliament-Funkadelic shirt with a portrait of George Clinton, she also wore a short plaid skirt and was barefoot as she hopped around the stage.
Finally, there was Bianca on drums, a half Jamaican, half Puerto Rican girl who had medium length, multi-colored dreadlocks that swung wildly as the cymbals crashed around her. She was plain in comparison to the others, she only ever wore four things, plain black tank top, plain blue jeans, plain white Converse All Star high tops and her sleeveless jean jacket covered with patches from various death metal bands from Death to Wormrot that she never washed. Mostly, because her mother absolutely hated it. Most drummer’s faces contorted wildly as they played but not Bianca, it was the same wide-eyed stare with her tongue hanging out, always.
Nonstop the band played through song after song of their 20-minute set not giving the crowd any room to breathe, each song seemingly heavier, faster and with a cruder title than the song before it. The final song, Nun Blood, was a chaotic climax to the set. Emily threw the remaining pitchers of water onto the crowd, Liz dropped her microphone and dove into the heaving mass, bumping in the mosh pit. Finally, Bianca threw her sticks into the crowd, throwing up the devil horns as Meg let her guitar feedback as she inched towards the amplifier making the feedback louder and louder until the sound guy cut off their mics and put on the house lights and music. In the world of the movies, this would be the part where the band rushes backstage and screams about how well the show went, but the reality is that this is the time where the band has to break down and pack up all their equipment from the stage while the crowd watches under the bright house lights. The band had help dealing with the equipment. Chuck, a giant ogre of a man and Meg’s brother, and a guy they simply knew as Grim who had been following the band around since the very early days, mostly because of Emily.
“Liz, dude, push the fucking merch.” Meg grumbled.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Liz was too caught up talking to concert goers to remember to push the merch, she hated pushing the merch. Called it “a sick symptom of the capitalist system” but it’s how the band was able to afford beers, she grabbed the mic, “hey we got a merch table in the back shirts, tank tops and make sure to find us on social media. HAIL SATAN, love ya!”
The merch table was managed by Bianca’s half brother Mateo, he honestly could not stand the band, the venue or the music, but didn’t mind because he enjoyed supporting his sister. But making money selling weed at the shows and the punk rock girls, in his eyes, certainly made it easier.
After the band and their crew finished moving their equipment from the stage to the back of Meg’s mother’s van they huddled up for a cigarette to discuss the set.
“Oh my god babe you sounded like a fucking demon!” Bianca told Liz after a big kiss, the two had been dating for the last three months, much to the chagrin of Meg who had loved Bianca since middle school.
“Our timing was inconsistent.” A metronome doesn't speed up with emotion at a big show, a metronome doesn’t slow down when it gets tired. A drummer does and this comment from Meg was a subtle dig at Bianca.
“There were a lot of people at the show tonight, people are really digging our shit!” It takes a certain ego to be a lead singer of a band, to expose yourself openly to a crowd through your lyrics and voice, Liz was ego heavy. “We should start playing more shows, like a mini tour you know.”
“LET’S GET FUCKING DRUNK!” Emily, still barefoot in the gritty parking lot, danced around the group. She didn’t want to talk about music, she wanted to play it and found no interest in self criticism, self congratulations or delusions of grandeur. “Where’s the party! And who’s got some weed I wanna get high, WHERE THE FUCKING WEED AT?”
“Dude.” The only input Chuck could muster, but it was enough to quiet Emily down.
“Okay, okay fine.” She said defeated as she plopped down on a parking block.
“Hey, my cousin Leo has this property out in the country,” the group had known Liz for the better part of a year and had never once heard her talk about family, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind us getting drunk in his barn.”
“Oh, I love the country babe, you can really see the stars” Meg rolled her eyes at Bianca’s exuberance “it would be great to get out of the city for a night”
“LETS FUCKING DO THIS!” Emily jumped up, screaming. The whole crew jumped in their cars and headed out of the city, into the country.
Mateo led the way with Emily riding shotgun, the two smoked blunts and argued about the best hip-hop verses in recent memory. Although she was a bass player for a death metal band her musical tastes were eclectic. Liz and Bianca were in the back seat, ignoring the two in the front seat, flirting and giggling. Meg drove the van with Chuck and all the bands gear. She mostly complained about Bianca and Liz's relationship while Chuck listened with occasional mentions that, “there will be other girls’ sis”. Meg didn’t care about other girls. Grim drove alone in his ancient Ford hatchback. The car cost him $500 and was from the ‘80s. No one wanted to ride in it, the summer was too hot for no air conditioning and there was no radio. Also, Grim was weird.
Leo’s property took the group on a 45-minute-long drive outside of the city into the winding dirt roads on the outskirts of humanity. Down a long, wooded two track driveway they finally arrived at their destination where they were greeted by Leo and a roaring bonfire. The group jumped out of their cars and started heading towards the barn.
“Liz, it’s beautiful to see you sister!” The two embraced with a big hug.
“And brother it’s great to see you as well.” Liz responded with glee
“Bro, I thought they was cousins?” Grim mumbled under his breath confused.
“Dude.” Again, Chuck didn't need to say much but it was enough to squelch the inappropriate conversation.
“Welcome all.” Leo said with a bow and a faux curtsy. He was nothing like Liz, short and of average build. His hair perfectly coiffed in a slicked back pompadour, a white polo shirt tucked into tight fitting chino pants that broke over perfectly clean Doc Martin boots, “there are libations aplenty in the barn, enjoy yourselves.”
The pole barn was decorated with various strings of Christmas lights, some blinking, some not. The walls adorned with stolen road signs, collectible tins for Nascar drivers and various automotive logo tins like Valvoline and Mobil. The main floor was open, in the back corner there were a couple of cars with their hoods open and a large roll-up bay door. In the other corner of the room there were two old refrigerators stocked with beer, various spirits and mixables. Each member of the group, except Chuck, grabbed something to drink and plopped down on a pair of old, ripped couches in the middle of the room which surrounded a low wooden coffee table made from cinder blocks and two-by.
As the night waned on into the early morning hours the conversation ran the gamut of discussion topics from bad club owners and bad musical acts to the inherent value of menthol cigarettes and conspiratorial ramblings about why metal had taken a back seat to other forms of music.
“Pop has always been popular, what are you talking about?” Emily pleaded her case to the group, “why do you think it’s called Pop? Besides, it’s the best music, Michael Jackson Thriller is, on paper, way better than any Slayer album.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Meg was a metal purist, she listened to one genre and that was heavy metal. All else was bullshit in her estimation, “Michael Jackson is shit compared to Slayer”
“Well if Slayer was so good, why aren’t they the biggest metal band of all time? Why is it Metallica that’s basically pop rock?” Emily was failing to plead her case.
“Satan,” Leo said from the pool table behind the couches where he and Mateo were playing, “it’s the influence and imagery of Satan that left bands like Slayer on the sidelines. Puritanical views in America, even amongst heavy metal fans propped up “safe” bands like Metallica and Pantera over Slayer who were always singing about the dark lord, serial killers and Nazi mad scientists. Once you invoke Satan through your music, you’re totally black listed.”
The group collectively were gobsmacked, based on appearances, none of them would think that Leo would know anything about Heavy Metal, let alone about Slayer and Satan.
“I knew I liked this guy,” Emily jumped up excited, she pointed middle fingers into the air and screamed to the sky, “fuck God, Hail Satan!”
“The devil is not something you should play with lightly my friend, be careful who you praise.” Leo responded in a serious tone and went back to his billiards match.
“Hey, where’s your pisser?” Grim had been trying not to break the seal all night, but he could hold on no longer.
“The world is your toilet.” Leo said as he motioned to the vast dark expanse of the country acreage.
Grim stumbled outside of the barn and into the darkness with only the pale light of the full moon to guide his path. He wandered far away from the barn to the edge of the wilderness and began to relieve himself on a nearby tree stump when suddenly a rustling caught his attention. He looked around but there was nothing to be seen in the pitch-black darkness, he assumed it was someone messing with him and continued his business. Another rustle, this time directly in front of him. His head snapped up and that’s when he saw it; a figure cloaked in black nearly hidden amongst the trees. Gripped with fear amplified from marijuana induced paranoia he collected himself and ran as fast as he could back to the safety of friends and the barn.
“Holy shit, there’s someone out in the woods,” Grim stumbled into the barn, gasping for breath. His friends rolled their eyes. “I’m not freaking out! There was a….a…guy? In a black hood! Watching me piss!”
“Dude, who would want to watch you piss?” Meg asked laughing it off, “chill out will ya?”
“Fuck you guys, I know what I sa-” Grim’s sentence was interrupted by an arrow that pierced through the front of his shoulder. Blood blossomed through his shirt, the metal from the arrow shimmering in the light. Another arrow flew, this time piercing though Grim’s thigh and he stumbled to the ground, screaming. Behind him, lit by the roaring bonfire stood three figures in all black. Two were armed with bright red fire axes, and at third had an outstretched bow in their hand.
STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO
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