the sound: Bad to the Bone – George Thorogood, Legs - ZZTop, Frankenstein – Edgar Winter, Stanglehold – Ted Nugent
Robert and I arrived at the almost formal “celebration of life” on his dresser, wearing jeans and t-shirts. Robert’s t-shirt read “I’d rather have a sister in a whore house than a brother on a Honda”…classy. Mine read “titties and beer, come’eer come’eer” around a negative picture of Frank Zappa.
Everyone else there was dressed in suits and funeral wear.
As if our mode of dress didn’t set us apart from everyone else…the very fact that we were both higher than kites might have set some people off. I had developed a nervous tick that involved flipping my hair around like it was some kind of scarf or flag and Robert wiggled his lower jaw back and forth, left to right like it was about to wag off of the lower half of his face. This combined with the obvious marks on our arms when we belligerently took our jackets off with the intent of showing everyone our “dress shirts” left little or no question as to the depths we’d fallen too.
There wasn’t much chance that anyone could miss we were in trouble.
Gray and Rosie tried to get us out the door before anyone made comment, but Robert began to argue and I began to whine as only a pair of junkies can. I was carrying on about the lack of fairness and Robert was getting pretty heated and loud. We were quite the floor show so it was no small wonder that Mrs. K finally noticed us.
Mrs. K descended upon us from across the room…waving the ever present lace hankercheif as she demanded….”wot? wot? Wot is this ye’ll be doin now?”
She drew herself up and sucked in a massive breath and began a tirade the likes of I’ve never seen or heard since.
“How.dare.you?” she demanded scathingly…
”How.dare.you.show.your.dirty.drug.addled.selves.here.in.the. presence. of.all.these.good.people? “
“People that are friends and dignitaries that hae’ come all this way ta show the respect to me poor dead Daithi’s memory? How dare you even breath the air he canna breath...such a waste…the likes of you two? How dare ye foul beggars…”
Robert had the good grace to look sheepish in the face of his mother’s wrath.
Me?
I started to laugh.
Slowly, gradually building to something resembling the hysterical crescendo that that we all remember of the wicked witch of the east in the Wizard of Oz.
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