Who the hell am I? Just a few of the experiences that have made me who or what I am.

     http://youtu.be/Ixtq4KtVNHk

   This is from about 05-06 when we were still a 4 piece.This guy quit because of our constant touring and joined a Blues Band he's no longer part of.

 Even if given the opportunity, I wouldn't change a single thing that's ever happened to me. The things that have happened made me who I am. I would never change that.

    Damien Echols ~ Death Row

   In 1991 this kid Kenny (Fuck Sake) I can not remember his last name,I'll find it out tomorrow when people are awake but for now he's Hardcore Kenny that had a Hawk, comes busting through my door outta breath and sweating bullets making me think Oh shit the cops are after him. I jumped up and started hanging my make shift curtains up,Black sheets and Dark towels but he stopped me.He placed his hand on my shoulder and said or breathed would describe it better. I got GG Coming. Guess what, Homewrecker is opening. The last Band to play before GG Allin will be You. A cheer shot up threw my filthy, cluttered, putrid smelling yet always packed hole in hell. I could hear glass breaking in the Kitchen, our guitarist was plugging his guitar in laughing hysterically, people were wrestling all over the floor, I stepped aside just in time to miss one of those little Mickey Malt Liquor bottles, it smashed like a glass base ball on the wall behind my head.

     I was smiling and shaking Kenny's hand. 

           Randy was playing the guitar in their living room. A couple of their friends were over, Robyn and Greg. They were all drinking and singing along with Randy.

           Chris sat in the floor watching. He loved the guitar and Randy had even taught him some chords. Chris couldn’t play them very well but he could tell witch ones were being played. He started naming them out loud . “c”  he said Robyn ,Greg’s wife smiled at him. Chris thought Greg was cool, he had long hair like Randy’s but unlike Randy he had no mustache or beard and he wore a leather fringe jacket. now that was cool!

          “c, d ,c,”Chris was chiming along when all of a sudden he was out of breath, he double over trying to catch his breath.

           “oooohhh” Greg yelled and it seemed like he laughed, nothing at all seemed right to Chris who jumped up and ran in his bedroom, still trying to catch his breath.  “Why did that fuckin’fucker kick him?” he wondered “Why the hell had this Fuckin’Fucker took over, why did Mom let him.He figured he would lay in his bed until one of them came and apologized and ask him to get back up and he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t even speak to them, he just laid there listening to the voice, he soon forgot all about them witch was good because none ever came to see about him. The very next day Randy and his mother told him about moving to a farm.Chris,forgetting all about the night before listened with excited ears.

                Chris woke up ‘cause his shoulder hurt real bad, at first he didn’t know why    

                 “Get up Chris, I wanna show you something” He lifted Chris out of bed by a handful of  his shoulder it hurt, Chris started to cry,  “Don’t you dare start that boy, you

wake your momma up and things will get real bad!” He drug Chris by his shoulder

until they got to the bath room “ Well, get in there!” He said and sent Chris flying across

the bathroom floor he landed between the toilet and the bathtub on his side, no sooner had he landed than Randy had him up by the hair, “You see that” He was pointing

at the toilet and it had a few dribbles on it from where Chris had pee pee’d on it when

he was half awake. Randy slammed his head into the wall twice very hard!

           “ OOOOOCH” Chris started to cry . Slam, this time Randy kept a hold of Chris’

head and he put his thumb under Chris’ lower jawbone .This was karate Randy had told

him that before. Randy could kill a man with one finger he had told Chris, and as bad as his chin hurt he believed it.

             “Now get it cleaned up!” Randy said in a loud forceful whisper. Chris started getting  toilet paper, Randy reached out , grabbing, twisting his wrist  behind his back, hurting even worse than the chin, God, oh God, this must be black  belt karate to hurt

this bad,  “Not with toilet paper, lick it up you little puke!”

                “OH,GOD, No I Can’t” He felt even more sharp pain, But still he found

strength somewhere “NO.” Chris’ arm was burning, so bad he thought surely it would break off,  under his breath he was screaming but he still wouldn’t give in . Finally Randy pulled him back by his hair and slammed him against the toilet, then lifted the seat and dunked Chris twice then kicked the wind out of him, next time it happens I’ll cut your fucking Ear off!”

            Chris ran back in his room as soon as he felt able to walk. He dove in his bed

And covered up everything even his head.

                  “Did ya get in trouble Chris?” He knew it, Dee Dee  was up, he didn’t 

want her in one this.

                 “ Yeah, I left a toy out!”

                  “ Which one?” She wanted to know

                     “Stretch Armstrong.”  Chris sighed, he wished  she’d let him be               

                       “Did  he hurt you.”

 “ No, I just got warned now go to sleep”  He said tiredly

                    “ I hate Randy” she said crying 

                 “  I hate him too, but you know what aunt Charlott said, he wont be here forever,  just try not to think of it and have some good dreams we don’t have to wake

up for along time .

Chris wanted her to go to sleep so he could listen to the ear drum man,who was

Already telling Chris it was alright. Randy wouldn’t be around much longer

And if his mom would have Randy over him then he and dee would runaway to grandma’s  or aunt Flo’s  or even aunt charlottes and uncle Hisey would take them.

               “If not Chris would chop him up with an axe.” He went to sleep with a little smile on his face.

.

Right then he heard foot steps and heavy breathing behind him, he was starting to turn just as he was hit full force from behind. He rocketed into space flying threw the air in slow motion

then speeding back up as he landed and rolled on the concrete. He could feel boots kicking him and sticks beating him repeatedly. He had figured out it was the cops, but weren’t they going a little far he thought. He was jerked roughly to his feet and was drug back away from the street, they threw him down between an abandon gas station and the house his friends were partying in. Right as he was thrown down a boot caught him right in the solar plexus simultaneously with a stick coming down above his eye.

            Finally a stop in the action as they put the cuffs on him, but when they got them on it was like they rolled him over and smashed his head into the brick wall behind him, splitting his head as if for emphasis. He looked up and a chill went down his spine. Christopher was no stranger to jail and he had seen the officer standing before him in action. The cop, well over 6ft. tall and 270lbs was nicknamed (secretly at first, then he adopted it when he found out about it)

Sgt. Kick Ass. Christopher had watched him take a mentally ill inmate off the elevator because the guy was freaking out, apparently claustrophobic. The man was so straggly and skinny,  obvious homeless it was nothing for Kick Ass to pick him up and slam him, he head bounced off the cast iron bench neck snapping backward appearing dangerously close to breaking. Kick Ass had handcuffed him to the bench stuck his chest out and got back on the elevator.

          “You see that piece of shit swing on me? The officer beside him surprisingly said nothing.

             “That dirty son of a bitch tried to hit me, after I enjoy a smoke I’m going to go back up and give that street scum the beating of his life, you going to have a smoke with me Jim?”

               Again the officer beside him, who was pretty big himself, said nothing.

               For some reason Scum couldn’t keep his mouth shut, because the guy was dangling a petty cigarette over these inmates like a one hundred dollar bill to a beggar.

       “ I’m sure glad I gave those nasty things up before coming in” The words shot out of his mouth before he could catch them. He hated this big bull of a man

and all he stood for. If he wasn’t a cop he would still be an ass. He was a huge blonde with the typical cop cut, shaved on the side and real short on top. He was one of these new breeds of young cops that thought it part of their job to beat people to a pulp. He even had tribal tattoos which were the big thing at the time and Christopher had heard him talk about going to metal shows and kicking ass.

         “You got something against smoking ass wipe?” Christopher didn’t remember how he got out of that one and certainly didn’t know how he was going to get out of the present situation.

        He looked up at big ole moon pie face grinning down at him. Then the cop looked at him hard and said. ”You need to stop resisting and everything will be fine.” He seemed to be talking through clenched teeth, this was all super intensified by the mushrooms

         “But I haven’t resisted.” Christopher tried to say, but was surprised by three hard hits in the head with the Billy stick. He couldn’t believe it, the third hit

broke the stick. From the feel of things it had also broken his head. He went out.

         He had no idea how long he was unconscious but not mercifully long enough, when he came to the two officers, Kick Asses sidekick a skinnier, but equally mean little smart ass were going though his wallet and laughing. Being a musician Christopher had all kinds of phone numbers, other musicians, club owners,

Producers, and plenty of girls.

          “Are you a fagot, Shane?” That was Christopher’s real last name, but since he self proclaimed himself Scum everyone referred to him as such. He even had it tattooed on the back of his neck.

          “What’cha got all these phone numbers to guys for”? The skinny guy ask

“Why don’t you just hang out at the queer bar down there on white avenue’.

           “Is that where ya’ll met”? Oh, shit what was he thinking, this wasn’t a movie, and he definitely had no control over the out come. It was the combination

of the tripping and the head injury”.

            “All Right you shit stain fagot punk. We’re going to play a game until the paddy wagon gets here. It’s called the shit drop, you really can’t win this game fagot, but it will be fun to play”. As they picked him up he was nauseous from pain that shot through his body, he immediately puked down the front of himself.

              “You get puke or blood on me I’ll kill you”. Kick Ass said, Scum believed it.

              “O.K., The rules to this game are you’re the shit, we drop you, you land on your face, you don’t land directly on your face you try again, I think we’ll get right before the wagon boys get here don’t you shit head.” Then he noticed Christopher’s  tattoo on the back of his neck. “Oh, look here Dave, he has scum tattooed on his neck, at least this one admits it. I hate when they try to be human and talk about their rights”.

                “Yea, we killed a nigger for talking about rights one time.” Partner Dave said.

                  “Black guy” Christopher said through bruised swollen lips.

                   “What, you got something to say Mr. Scum”?

“Black guy, you killed black” That was all he got before they slammed him forward. He wasn’t expecting it, still instinct took over and he turned his face slamming the side of his head into the concrete.

Christopher Scum couldn’t be found because he didn’t wanna be. He

Was out on the dark patio not feeling like being around anyone but his jug of

Vodka, drinking as hard as could  he didn’t wanna talk about the great show he’d had

He just wanted to get the booze into him.  He would take as big a swallow as

His body would let him, he was drinking hard, but he didn’t want to puke again.

That was a waist, and he felt like he goin’ somewhere and the vodka clearly had to take him there. He could hear just enough to tell that Jesus Smesus had commenced to tuning. So, yes he was alone for awhile, not many people would come outside during a Smeezus show, not only were they a really good band, All the girls thought they were hot to look  at too

Alotta girls thought Christopher was good looking but most were afraid to

Approach him he sometimes seemed so explosive, Usually he seemed hell bent on self destruction, but who knew when the consequences of his actions were going to

Spill over into someone elses life, most girls didn’t seem to wanna find out.

            But right now ,  as he drilled that bottle of vodka ,drank like there was no

Tomorrow  a girl stood at the door watching his every move intently, she had seen him

Around several times, and she had decided they would be boyfriend and girlfriend

Awhile.

             They next morning Christopher woke up under the ping pong  table at the hippy house, disgusted to find he was in a puddle of puke, and a puddle of urin. He ran upstairs,

Put on different shorts ran back down stairs and with his oldest towel he cleaned the obscene mess he had left. He hoped no one had spotted him yet, he knew that was futile Joey was off to work with the crack of dawn. If he got to Joey, before Joey got to everyone else he could stop it, Joe wouldn’t run out to tell everyone to be mean spirited

But he would say something, not thinking about it if Christopher didn’t intercept him

So that’s exactly what he intended to do.

               He stepped out on the front porch, 9:45 am the store up the street was just opening, good deal he thought and 

 slowly headed that way. He would much rather give his business to Sam who had a place down over the hill on 15^th st.  But Christopher was way, way to hung over this day. Both store owners were overpriced, both were Arabic.

 Again, who am I? Your guess is as good as mine right now.

Christopher Scum