Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Trick or...

This picture brings me back..To a hidden dark place. It all started when I got lost in Rotterdam after attending the David Coverdale impersonator convention. It was the heady summer of 1990. I was backpacking about Europe, a happy shiny lad with stars in my eyes. But fate failed to inform me that on that beautiful night I had ventured...onto the wrong side of the tracks.

I saw them round the corner, a thick floor of smoke at their feet. And then they spotted me. Coverdale#3 wrapped his bolo tie around his fist and punched it, grimacing at me with his hollow, cruel eyes. Oh yes, my friends. They had heard my mocking laughter from the stage. It was time for me to pay for insulting their vast array of colorful Bonnie Raitt scarves. They would make me suffer for desecrating the name of the great David Coverdale with my cruel hyaena laugh. Yes, they wore rouge. But these were not gentle men. I can't describe what happened next to you, fair readers. But do believe those David Coverdales did things I will not soon forget. I assure you, it was NOT love that I was feeling on that awful, godless evening.

I was raped by a pod of Coverdales.

(yet another supreme picture pilfered from a site that punches the internet square in the taint with godlike awesomeness.)

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