Dear Santa, This is Jimmy from all the way out in Highland, MI. I don't usually send letters to adults I don't know (if my dad knew I was writing letters to some old dude who's into kids he'd probably bust my arm again), but I hear your the go-to guy for X-Mas presents so I figured I'd risk it. I call it X-Mas (hope U don't mind) because I like porn a whole lot better than I like church and I'm guessing you do too because of the way you dress and all. By the way, you don't want to show up at church around here dressed in a red velvet suit. You'd totally get your ass kicked. But anyway. . .Parental Discretion Is Advised before clicking "Read More" below: adult content and language
I'm 14 now and me and my friends started this band called "Penis Pump" (pretty funny, eh?). We got the name from some spam we keep getting online (no, not that sick canned meat shit you old people eat. That shit's like dog food. I can't even believe you eat that. This spam's like junk mail. You get junk mail, right? I know you live up north where there's nothing but snow and shit but I bet you still get three fucking AOL discs a week, don't you? You know what you can do with those? You can shit-can the discs and use the tins for your weed. It's like a little water-proof rolling tray. It works out pretty sweet. You should try it.)
But dig this, right? My guitar? It totally sucks. No, I mean it. I can't even tune it anymore because the machine heads are, like, all fucked up and from China and shit. That music store fag (sorry) laughed at me when I wanted him to fix it. He said that, for one thing, I didn't buy it there and for another thing, it was like, a Wal Mart guitar and it wasn't even worth fixing (What an asshole. That's ok, I pissed in his gas tank - not that it's going to hurt his fucking KIA piece of shit).
Oh, and we don't even have an amplifier to share anymore. The one that me and Rosco (He's our singer and plays guitar too) stole from that lame-ass Michiganbands.com guy who brags about how he used to be in a band and everything "back in the day" (what an asshole) - that thing hasn't worked since Spoil (our stupid drummer) spilled one of his dad's beers into the top of it. There was smoke and sparks and shit just pouring out of this thing. It smelled like that box of lubricated condoms we burned behind Joyce Runyon's dad's boat last summer. We found them in his garage in a paper bag with a bunch of funny-ass pictures of his wife with a saddle on her back and a whip sicking out of her butthole! Can you believe that shit? We laughed about that shit for days. Goober (that's our bass player - well, he will be when he gets a bass. Right now he's just mouthing the parts while me and Rosco jam out) says he wants to fuck her. He's never fucked anybody, but he's into all that MILF shit online and jerks off, like, twenty times a day I think because he's never at practice. Me, I don't want that dried up old shit (sorry dude). I want Rosco's little sister to be my groupie when we do our tour (a groupie is a chick who hangs around the band and does, like, anything for them). You've seen her in her pajamas, right? ;0 (Except, you know what? Her goddamn pet rabbit chewed through Rosco's guitar chord so we're kind of pissed at her right now - even though we don't even have an amp that works we plug into it anyway and pretend - but now his chord's not even long enough!] ).
Damn. Now what the fuck was I saying? Oh yeah.
So, like, I was thinking, we're writing songs and shit now, right? We've got this one called "souls in motion" and another one called "stinky finger" and this other one called "peace-out" and they kinda suck (but we're still working on them and with your help, we can be in the studio to record our CD by summer vacation). I figured if you could get us some decent gear we could be, like, your personal music guys for the winter or something. We could maybe write jingles (jingles, that's funny right?) for your toy commercials or just, like, jam at your place while your midgets are making shit. What do you think? But we won't do any weird shit like sit on your lap or whisper into your ear or or anything like that (I can't believe you got away with that shit right in the middle of the mall! I don't mind much but I can tell you Spoil will kick you in the nuts because of what happened to him at his uncles house last summer - that's another story but write me back if U want 2 know, ok?), but we can be there three times a week and maybe, like, clean out your garage for a place to jam and we'll shovel your driveway and stuff. What do you say to that Chris. Your name's Chris, right?
So, like I said, I don't usually write to strange old men and ask for lots of expensive stuff but there's like no other way around it and we can't ask Spoil's uncle (even though he bought Spoil a totally professional drum set after that shit last summer) and I hear you're you're the guy to talk to about stuff like this and I hope you can help us out.
Sincerely,
Your band (we hope) Penis Pump: Jimmie (guitar - I'm the one that wrote this), Roscoe (vocals and guitar), Goober (bass) and Spoil (drums).
P.S. We're gonna need a ride back and forth from your crib - is that cool?
This (hopefully humorous) article was written by - Mitch Phillips ©2003 for Michiganbands.com. Unauthorized reproduction of this story or the characters created here is a violation of applicable laws. Just make sure you include his byline so they know where to send the hate-mail, ok? Happy Holidays to You and Yours |