Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Throw Me In The Waffle House, Til The Sun Go Down

They fed you!

“Yeah, thanks. Bobby saw your post and felt bad. I mean, not bad enough to pay, but bad enough to stop.”

“I hadn’t eaten in four days. No, wait. I found an old sugar packet in my organ yesterday. Tasted fucking awesome.”

“You didn’t tell me about the sugar packet.”

“Sorry, O. I just ate the whole thing before I even thought about it.”

“Not cool, man. I ate my shoes yesterday.”

“So that’s where they went.”

Guys, are they really not letting you eat?

“It’s fine.”

“They love us.”

This is not okay. Aren’t there, like, union rules that say you have to have a certain amount of meals provided?

“Oh, they’re provided.”

“And then slapped cruelly from our hands.”

Jesus.

“When I play my big solo on Friend of the Devil, Mickey uses a fishing rod to suspend a burrito above my head like Tantalus.”

“I often don’t have the strength to do my bouncy dances.”

“Billy often makes his water on the salmon.”

“John made me watch him pull his pork.”

Is that a euphemism?

“Yes and no.”

This is unacceptable. What does Bobby say?

“He lets it happen.”

“When everyone finds out, he’s gonna issue a statement saying that he had no idea.”

“Complicit.”

“Benign moral neglect.”

This is shocking. You guys should quit!

“What? And leave the Grateful Dead?”

“I get to sing now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Enjoy your meal, guys.

4 Comments

  1. Scattered, smothered, and covered.

  2. Luther Von Baconson

    December 1, 2017 at 8:15 pm

    Mickey’s hangin’ out with Richard Grasso at the Waffle House?

    Weird times man

  3. Jeff with the minty yoinked ‘02 Rat Dog T.

    Mickey looks kind of scared. It’s a long way from the Sebastopol Whole Foods to the House of Waffle.

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