trey bruce bacjstage

“So, you don’t block the punch?”

“Oh, fuck, no. If you block the punch, then Billy hasn’t punched your dick. And he will: that’s a given. If you make him have to come back around, you throw him off his schedule and he starts to take an interest.”

“I don’t want that?”

“For all that’s holy, don’t let Billy take an interest in you.”

“I’m gonna get punched in the dick. Bottom line is: I get punched in the dick. That’s what you’re saying?”

“Well, I dunno, Trey: you can angle it off a bit or roll with it or cup up. Or, you can stop being a bitch and take your dickpunching like a man.”

“Jeez, Bruce: okay.”

“You know how many guitarists wanted this gig, and the inevitable punch and/or punches in the dick that came with it? You think that crazy old fuck hasn’t swatted my petunia?”

“All right! Sorry I asked!”

“Plus, you know: I’m nine feet tall, so my dick is proportionately gargantuan. It’s a lot of dick to punch.”

“Let’s just jam, Bruce.”

“It looks like a tube sock with a clementine orange in it.”

“Let’s just jam, Bruce.”