one

 A heavy cloudbank roled in, and it started to rain.  Large, splotchy raindrops fell, causing the ground to look much like swiss cheese. After a few minutes, the whole sidewalk was covered with the wetness, so Parker slowly got up from the park bench, whistled to his pitbull, and started walking towards home.
 Parker, a canine nearing the age of 17, was on his way home from a long day out. Earlier that day, he had stormed out of the house after a long, hard fight with his father, a perfectionist, who always wanted his way.  Needed his way. Couldn't function right without his way. A total control freak. Parker hated his dad.
 It was a saturday, and it was raining steadly now.  Trailer, the pitbull, heaved against his leash at the sight of the neighbor's cat. Parker had arrived at his street, and stopped to let trailer whine at the growling feline. He called the dog off, and they both walked down the sidewalk towards the grey and white house; the one with the tidy lawn and the three maple trees in front. The garage door was open, but there were no cars inside. There was room for two.  Parker decided to continue walking down his street, and go over to his friend, Kevin's house. Kevin had known parker since he was eight,. they met at the park, that young summer.  Parker had been intrigued by the sight of an ugly baby bird that kevin was building a 'fort' for, in one of the two sandboxes there.  Kevo hopped out of the sandbox and into the grass beside it. He dug into his back pocket, and pulled a pocketknife out.  He shoved it into the ground, and hacked the earth up. Then he found what he was looking for. The white, husky looking dog boy pulled two earthworms out of the now loose soil, closed and put the knife back into his pocket, and hopped back into the sandbox next to the bird.  By this time, it had began to make a horrid screeching noise, and it acted as if it was being strangled.  Kevin stood over the tiny mass of pinfeathers anf fluff, and dropped one of the shiny earthworms into it's wide open beak.  Parker, wearing his favorite green sweatshirt, wandered over, trying to be inconspicious, and sat down on the edge of the sandbox.  "hey," said Kevin.  "h..hi," stammered Parker. He wasn't used to people talking to him, out of the blue like that.  "you're watching my bird.." said kevin, as he fed the fellow another worm. "so?" said Parker.  "Watch him for a minute, i haveta get him another," said Kevo, as he hopped over the wooden side of the sandbox, back to the loose dirt.  Parker got up, and sat down closer to the sand mound that the thing was sitting in. It started screeching at him, and parker was slightly amused. Kevo hopped back with a wrything, irrodecent pink worm in his hands, and plopped it into the bird's open beak. "He's a magpie, i found him under a tree two weeks ago,"  kevin said, smiling at the little thing. "Does it have a name?" Parker asked.  "Sort-of," said kevo, "I call him Pill, cuz he's so annoying at night. He never goes ta sleep." "Oh..." said Parker, "what's yours?"  "My what?" "Your name."  "Kevin. but i go by Kevo too."  At this time, Parker noticed the vertical black slashmarks above and below kevin's eyes. They were kind of like a clown's, thought Parker.  Kevin saw Parker staring at them, and asked "Do you have a staring problem?" and parker looked away.  At about that minute, he saw his dad pull into the parking lot, and get out of the old white truck.  "hey, i gotta go, my dad's over there," said Parker.  "okay then, come back some time.."  "Cool bird. My name's Parker by the way. <<PARKERRRR!!!>   Bye."

 Parker walked up to the shabby red house, climed the rickety steps, and knocked on the heavy wooden door.  A gray face peeked through, the curtain, and opened the door with a relieved look on her face. Aromas of stale bread and grahm crackers rushed out of the door and met Parker's nostrils.  "Hey, is Kevin home?" "Hi parker, heay, he's in his room. Come inside. You can throw trailer in the back," she said, reaching down to pet the dog. "Thank yah," said parker.  With that, he stepped past the weathered grey-and-white alutian-type canine lady, Kevin's mom, and headed past the living room, looking untouched from the 70's.  He stepped down the hall and to the back door through the laundry room. The smell of the room was acidic, like a many laundry detergants mixed together, and he opened the door with a squeak, and pushed trailer out into the rain.  The dog started pawing at the door, trying to get back inside, and then sat under the eve on the deck, staring with hope and frusteration through the glass into the room beyond.  "STay." said parker, and turned around and walkedc back into the hall. He knocked on kevin's door.  "Who is it?" came a voice from inside.  "yo, it's just me, park." said Parker. "Kay, hold on." Parker noticed a new bumper sticker on kevin's door.  It said: "THIS CAR HAS CLIMBED MT. WASHINGTON."
 The door unlocked and swung open, and Parker was greeeted by a 17 year old white husky dog, taller than himself, wearing a black/yellow longsleeved striped shirt, and a pair of "let it snow" boxers. A black&white bird was perched on top of a shelf full of dusty books, above which, was a painted sign that bearly read "DR.PILL".  The blue eyed bird watched parker come into his room and sit down in the red leather wooden office chair.  Parker spun in the chair for a second, and then told kevin about the fight earlier that day.  "Shit, man, you shoulda come over here after that all happend." "Yeah, i needed to think about stuff though, and dad woulda found me if i vame here right away. " Parker rubbed the bruise on his left side, under his rigbs. It hurt.  He lifted his shirt up to peek at it for a second, and let his shirt back down, pretending to scratch at a bug bite.  Just as he thought.
 "Holy fuck, where'd that come from?!" kevin exclaimed, in question, knowing parker was trying to be illusive about something. Something bad. "Eh." "Is that from this morning..?"  "Yeah, he went psycho on me.. I don't remember what i said, but it triggered him to start yellin and then he hit me a bunch.."  "Shit, i'm sorry man... you wanna stay the night or somethin?"  "I duno, maybe."  Parker stopped fiddling around with the cuff of his right shirt sleeve, and sighed.  This kind of thing happened about every week, but he'd never told kevo about the abusive stuff, till he noticed it today.  Kevin had known that parker and his father weren't on good terms, but he didn't know it had gone this far.
 "yeah. I don't wanna go back home tonight."

 The pill fell asleep on the book shelf.  Parker woke up, sweating, at three thirty in the morning, He had dreamed that he was in a mess of smouldering rubble, and he could hear trailer yelping and whining and barking, He was stuck somewhere in the mess, but parker couldn't find him. Parker panicked and starte dsearching madly. But he couldn't walk. Or go anywhere.  He heard a large rumbling crash, and a bunch of scratching.. Coming.. from somewhere.. outside... He woke up, and didn't knwo where the hell he was, until he saw the chest with the bowling pin next to it, faintly lit up by the streetlight on the corner, outside. Parker got up from his sleeping bag on the floor, unbolted the door and stepped out, trying not to make a sound. The freshly vacuumed carpet crushed under his feet and left footprints.  He went thourgh the hall and into the washroom, and opened the back door. Trailer was there, shivering and panting and wet. It was pouring outside, and the air was warm and thunder was to be heard all around.  As quietly as he could, parker rummaged through the cupboards above the washing machine, and found a grungy but dry towel. He toweled trailer dry, and then shut the door and left him to sleep on a couple of towels in the wash room, on the floor.
 He went back to bed, and layed awake for an hour or two.  The thunder kept him awake, and unlike trailer, he loved it. Thunderwas one of those things that he could just listen to for hours, in awe. Such a big, massive sound.  Nothing that anyone in the world could prevent.  Thoughts of trailer, maybe asleep, and then thoughts of his father, and then tomatoes, put him out.
 
 Parker awoke with a start the next morning, to the scratchy voice of kevin's mom. She was asking kevin if he wanted french toast, or potatoes and eggs, for breakfast. Kevo answered with "two eggs and french toast."  Kevin looked down and saw that parker had awaken. "Mornin" "Morning."  Parker looked back up at kevo, and then at the floor, in search of his black bandana and hellow buttonup shirt.  He found the shirt, and pulled it on, and kept looking for his cherished bandana.  His now dreaded, braided hair was flopping around in his face. "Yo kevo, do you havva shoelace i could borrow?"  "Your hair, eh?" "Yeah that." Kevo got up, rummaged around a shelf under dr. pill's nest, and pulled a black shoelace out of the stringy mess; out of the place where he kept his collar and string and things he found.  He tossed it at parker, and it landed on his shoulder. "Thanks..." Parker tied his hair back and went on a rampage to find his bandana. After a bit of talk about the statement, "All trees are green", Parker found it. His bandana was in the bottom of the sleeping bag he had borrowed from Kevin.
 Breakfast was ready. The aromas of it were strong, Kevin reached to the top of the red lamp where Dr.Pill as perched, and pill hopped onto his hand, and clumsly climed up to his shoulder. Parker struggled to get up and then got dizzy and almost fell back down; he had gotten up too fast.
 They went out to the living room wher everything glowed orange, and where the long shag carpet ticled their feet. There were woven baskets made out of string and wool and beads, on the hearth of the fireplace.  And in the center of the mantal, there was a porcelain figure of a white peacock.
 Kevin sat next to Parker, and his mom sat across the table.  Kevin took his two eggs and slid them onto his french toast, and with his fork, he broke the yolks open so that the toast was covered in a goopy mess of yellow.  One of the eggs was cooked too long, so it was starchier.  He spashed some hot maple syrup onto the stuff, and took a big bite. Parker had french toast as well, but he had no eggs. He didn't like eggs. They tasted foul to him, and they were slimey. At least the fried ones.
 The three talked about the deafing weather, and if parker had slept well, and finding trailer in the wash room that morning and how it reeked of wet dog in there. They finished all of what kevin's mom hd cooked for them, and brought the blue spatterware tin dishes to the kitchen, and heaped them on the worn countertop next to the sink.
 The two went back to kevin's room, and sat around and talked for a while. Kevin asked parker if he wanted to join him in his weekly routine of dumpster-diving through a few staked out dumpsters around town.  The bowling alley, the art stores, and maiinly the ones around the university campus art/photo department was where the good ones were.  He didn't always come back with something, but he found a lot of weird objects anyways. He had a few pairs of bowling shoes, and a bowling pin from the alley. Whenever he found a ball there, he'd bring it home and take it to the old cat who lived down the street, and sell it to her for five dollars.  She placed them around her garden, along with hanging silverware plates and china cups from all of the maple trees in her yard. She was nuts.
 "Not today" said parker, "I haveta get home pretty soon. Dad's gonna be pised as it is. He'll think i stayed out getting drunk with people or somehin like that."
 "Yeah, okay then... I think i'm gonna go pretty soon."
 Kevin sat down on his bed, and rolled over to the other side and leaned over to grab his vintage army backpack off of the trunk.  Parker took a last spin in the old leather chair, and slid off and got up. He said his goodbyes to kevin, and kevin wished him luck and then went to the wash room  Trailer was estatic to see parker, after two hours of smelling french toast.  Parker leashed him up, and led him through the house's living room, and out the heavy front door. The pair reached kevin's mailbox, and trailer pissed on the poast, and they headed towards home.
 It was mid-day. The air was fresh and crisp and the sun as out, making a first-rain, wet hot pavement smell. A wet grass and tar smell. A dead-leaf-fall smell.  Trailer trotted along Parker, occasionally tugging agains this black leather studded collar.  The garage door was shut; someone was home., Shit. Parker went around to the side of the house and unlatched the wooden gate, and stepped through whith his dog. He unsnapped the worn rope leash he had made long ago, and threw it on the deck. Trailer ran around, glad to be free, and sniffed the trail of a cat that had been stalking rats the previous night in the rain. Stupid cat.
Parker went inside. His dad was home.
 And then there was chaos.

 Parker was in his room, upstairs, wearing only his pants and a bandana. He was lying on his back, on hihs bed, listening to a cd his friend, Lauren had vigen to him that june, a week before school got out. He was a junior then.
It was a short track, a song titled "sleevless", and it was about Baxter, the Redundant Dead's bassist. It was really fast. It went like this:

 Come play with me, i wont' bite,
 i'll only yell nothing at all in the face of the amp or yourself
 and then i'll be stupid again
 the end.

Another song started, and parker nestled his back into the plaid quilt on his bed.  He shifted his stubby tail after a few minutes, and the song changed, again, to "pest-control", which was a song about how lauren saw the roach truck at a McDonalds late one night, and her thoughts on the subject. Parker stared at the ceiling and the light above him was too bright, and burning lightbulb images into his eyes, so he blinked and got up and turned it off. Then he jumped back on his bed and stared up again. Thinking about the day. About kevin wishing him luck, and about the fight with dad.  Dad yelled at him for not saying where he was all night and called him stupid and "FOR ALL I KNOW, YOU COULDA'VE BEEN FUCKING SOME SLUT IN SOME GODDAMN ALLEY."  Shit. The old bruise was still a dark purple color, with a few pinkish yellow spots around the outer rim. It looked as if a lopsided baseball had hit him.
 He turned over on his bed and breathed the dusty scent of his quilt.  It smelled musky and warm, somewhat sour. It smelled like him. Clouds were passing overhead, outside. A raven cawed from the tree in the yard. It shifted to the end of the rotten branch it was perchd upon, jumped up, and took off, flapping over the house and off into nowhere.  Parker heard footsteps; heavy ones.
 His dad banged on the door with his fist, and yelled "PHONE", and opened the door and tossed the portable phone on the bed, in a not-so-gentle fashion, next to parker's thigh.  He slammed the door shut and left parker alone with whoever it was on the phone.
The phone was black.
The phone had speakers.
Out of the speakers, came a voice.
The voice was Miraiam, and it said "Bonjour" in English.
Parker said hi back to her.
She was a sort-of-gutterpunk; at least she looked like one. she wasn't a street-fed homeless-and-proud of it type; she lived at home and had a family she cared about.  But she didn't like being very sanitary.  And she got around.
She had a mohawk; though she never put it up-- it was always down. She was a pretty buff chick, and could usually get any guy she wanted.
Parker had been longing to hear her voice all weekend; they were pretty good friends, though parker liked her a lot.  A LOT.
He said, "Hey, how goes it?"
"Not bad, not good, but not bad."
"yeah, i hear that."
"there's a show tomorrow night, wanna go?"

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two

 His alarm went off, and he felt like smashing it after he realized what was going on. After five seconds of the beeping, the worst noise ever, he smashed it gently and yawned and rolled over, making sure he kept his eyes stayed open. It was six forty Five, Monday. Trailer was curled in a tight ball at the foot of parker's bed.  Parker shoved a foot under the dog and smirked when trailer looked up at him in surprise, and then at the place where parker's foot poked through the blanket.  Parker started thinking about the other world he had just unintentionally left. He was annoyed. He had just crossed a plank/rope bridge, which was over a gourge with a river full of jade green water.  The bridge swayed more with each step he took acros it.  It was on some sort of a rocky, prehistoric island, and there were candles all around, on ledges and holes carved into boulders and the stone around.  Parker had been following a black and white wolf, all around the island. He had trailer chained on a leash, following the wolf, but trailer had black spots and a bunch of chains wrapped around his neck. And her eyes were bright green.
 Shit. It was seven.  Past the time parker usually got up. He reluctantly rolled out of bed, and mumbled at trailer. "mornin big puppy".  He found a pair of jeans on the floor. They smelled musty but he didn't care. He slipped them up over his maroon boxers, and put a wifebeater on, and over that, a black buttonup shirt.  He hurried out the door into the hall and went downstairs; trailer following.He grabbed a hunk of bread off the top of the refridgerator, picked up his bag, and took off to the world that wasn't his house.  Trailer stayed behind, in the front yard.
 Parker headed off towards school. It was a fifteen minute walk from his house. The morning was chilly and gray, but parker was warm from the walking. He saw a girl; a labrador; walking ahead of him. Her name was sarah.  Parker really didn't like her. She was wearing a light pink sweatshirt, and tight, washed out bluejeans, and flip-flop shoes. Just PERFECT for the cold weather.
 Parker kept walking, and came upon the school. It was seven forty. He spotted kevin by the staircase, talking with Elspeth, his girlfriend. She was a rather beautiful african wild dog; very glamorous in her own way.  She had short-trimmed dark blue hair, with longer, perfect bangs and a whisp of hair curling towards her front, right before her ears.  She wore tight gray cutoff pants, and a black tanktop, and a lot of black bracelets around her arms.  She had a single pendant hanging from her neck; a pentagram.  Her and kevin were embraced, and kevin had his red leather trenchcoat wrapped around her. They had been embraced for over a year now.  They kissed.
 They were obvlivious to Parker as he walked past them. He walked y the other furs and people talking; through the ones blockiing his way, getting in pettty arguments; not caring about anyone else but themselves. Parker wandered down the cold English hallway, sat down across from his room, and listened to the echo of his bag hitting the hard ground. There weren't many others around.  He pulled a worn book out, and started reading it.

 "...she pawed at his back, thinking silently to herself.  She could get in a lot of trouble for what she was about to do.  She ignored the thought and fingered about the rim of his boxers, and went on, slowly teasing him.  She shifted her position from his side, and got up and stood back. He couldn't get up because he was bound; helpless.  He was breathing harder; watching her, bug-eyed, at the sight of her, beginning to strip down to almost nothing.  His expression grew more concentrated; she shrugged her black bra off.  It fell to the floor, and her nipples were exposed; two perfectly pink, round nipples, starting to grow more erect with each passing second. They were pierced, and his eyes were fixed on them; drooling almost.  He was getting excited; that was obvious.  She took her place back, by his side, and began to..."

 The noise grew steadily louder around him. Then the bell screamed. There were five minutes to spare before he had to be in his seat in english class.  He looked up around, and then back down at his book, found his place, and read again.

"...almost.  He was getting excited; that was obvious.  She took her place back, by his side, and began to nibble on his ear, and then paused to breathe on him.  Her hot breath was recieved well, and she began stroking his stomach area, and then lower, massaging, until she reached the place where his hair grew more wirey..."

 He dogeared the page, and shoved the flimsy thing back into his bag. Then he staggered up and walked through the english room's door.
 

* * *

 The day had been long and boring. Every class had started out with the phrase, "I hope you enjoyed your weekend!"  Parker had been sarcastically thinking about the bruises everytime he heard that.
 Parker was walking towards home. There was a human walking behind him, wearing a business suit. Parker took his bandana off, smoothed his dreads a bit, and put it back on. The sun had come out during lunch, and the day was fairly hot.
 He and Mir had talked when the sun came out, right before class started. About her obvious new piercings, poking through her tanktop.  They made parker feel like the guy in the book he had been reading; trapped, longing for something he wasn't very close to getting.  But it wasn't a bad feeling.  They agreed to meet a half hour before the show started at seven-thirty.
 Get there at seven. Seven.
Parker looked back. The business suit had turned off somewhere, probably east, towards the more ritzy part of town.  Parker had liked his tie. It was shockingly red.
 Parker trodded up the inclining gravel path which struck through the lawn in front of his house. Everything around the grey and white house was green. The gras, the maple trees, although they were not going to be green for much longer. The moss on the redwood fence on the edge of the bamboo patch dividing their lawn with their neighbors'.  It was a modernized urban house, one of the many built during the 70's; which were built to encourage more people to come into the town, so that the economy could get out of a small depression.  It ended up working.  Parker's parents had moved in a few years after it was built. Everything inside of the house was a bright, dark orange color, and dark umber brown.  The curtains all had daisy patterns on them.  The walls were paneled.  It had been all stripped down, and it was now painted white inside, with sage green here and there, and sage green carpet, and oak furniture.  The kitchen was black marble, and it had shiny steel fixtures, and it was very open and spacious looking, although it really was not.
 It had always been home to parker, for all 17 years of his life.  Memories were thrown upon objects and pieces of that house like no end.  The time when he had come home and the living room furniture was moved into his room because the living room had suddenly become a bright white mass.  The time he had taken apart the clock on the mantalpiece, and put it back together in time before his father had come home.  The time he found his shoes in the bookcase and nobody knew how they had been placed there.  The time his father came home in a rage one night, and chased him around the housetill he hid in the attic and a spider crawled across his foot. And the smell of that was like ashes and cold coffee.
 Nobody was home.  Parker went upstairs to his room, and threw his school stuff on his bed. He grabbed a pencil and a sheet of lined paper and began writing a journal entry for his english class.  He was required to keep a weekly journal, or he'd fail the class. It wasn't a hard thing to do, and in fact, he really liked keeping it.  He told no one that though.  He'd lose his life if it wasn't recorded.

 SEPTEMBER 20, 2001.    4:23 PM
we had a storm the other night and i went over and spent the night at kevins place.  i got sick of being around dad that day. should have gone home though; he gave me another bruise when i got home. i went to my room and let tears flow; the thing guys my age supposedly aren't supposed to do. had reason enough though, shit.
well, mir asked me to go to the show tonight with her. the redundant dead are opening for some riot grrl band from out of town.  she wants to see them.  and she wants me to go?  i like her. a lot. she got her nipples done over the weekend.  it was rather obvious today. she let me touch them gently at lunch today, but only gently... she said they hurt like fuck.  they're rings with the little ball things at the end. reminded me of the girl in the book, "a message from the breakfast-maker." the chick, um. jane, from that has hers pierced, only theyre barbells. im writing about niple piercings and a book.. the book. THE BOOK. yeah. mom thinks nipple piercings are gross.
all trees are green.
i need to ask dad if i can go to the show tonite.  can't stay out too late. but oh well. must go now. i hate the weather man. and the music that goes along with him on the weather channel.  his reports are dumb unless it's gusty; in which case everythings good.  i think too much.
 out. 5:02pm

A car pulled into the garage. It was green.  Parker's room was the only room where the interior decorations consisted of the colors dark brown and orange.  He liked it better that way. It made the place dark. He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes drifted into a corner where a few dusty cobwebs loosely hung. They contrasted brightly with the dark wall.
 Dad would say no. he'd say no. He would have to. He hates me.  He'll say no. No no no.
 Dad said yes, and parker was in shock. Then he figured it was because his dad disn't want him around the house that night. Good, screw the old man. He was going to a show. Fuck yes.
 Parker was sitting on the floor of his room. The carpet was not sage green -- it was multicolored: brown, tan and yellow in various shades.  Classic shag carpet.  There was a stain about the size of a bowling ball near the door, where he had spilled a plate of spaghetti a few years before. Funny how the evidence of a little accidnet could last for so long.
 It was time to leave. Parker grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his right back pocket.  His wallet was yellow and not green. It contained a student ID he had ben forced to get, his unused driver's permit, which had a very bad picture of him on it; a small wad of mooney, a photo of trailer and extra tags for him, and a little spare change.  Parker never had a lot of money, he hated working.  So he didn't. He didn't want to learn to drive either, and nobody made him start.  He had a permit only because his mom made him take the course and get one. But she didn't push him further.
 He had to walk to the show. Driving would have been a nice thing, right about now.  It was across town -- at least it wasn't raining.  Miriam lived closer to where the show was being held, at the Bluebird, which was an old bar which held shows every week. Sometimes they were all-ages; sometimes not. The majority of the shows held were for people 21+, so that booze could be sold.

 This one was not 21+.

 The Redundant Dead was a high school band. They had been together for about a year and a half.  The vocals were done by an asian chick named Lauren. She was a tri-color australian shepherd/alsatian, but she somehow had a lot of asian blood in her from an unknown relative.  Her fur was half white, and the other half consisted of a dusty tan covered in black patches all over that tapered down to spekles as they got farther away from her spine.  Her hair was about an inch long, and black and spiked, except for her bangs which had been left to grow out. They were dyed a raspberry color, and her black roots were showing. Lauren was usually attached in some way to Jack, her boyfriend.  They had been together for ages; they started the band together.  Jack was the guitarist, and his guitar was black and white and brown/yellow/red inbetween.  He had a recent record of breaking a string, every other show the dead played at.  He was a fox, and he had a blue liberty spiked mohawk.  It went with his eyes, which were a crystal blue.
 A patchy nutcase who was a victim of Tourette's Syndrome was the group's bassist. His bass was blue, and it was also named that.  It's dubber was known as Baxter, which happened to be his real name as well.  Baxter was part leapord, and part Doberman Pinscher.  He had a half-brother named Raghad, who had a different father; a cheetah.  Baxter had blue dreadlocks that were a little above chin-length. His natural hair color was an orangy red, and he hated that.  He had been dying his hair blue ever since he discovered that he could. He had used apporoxamately 27 containers of RAVEN hair dye; color "blueberry," since Sixth Grade.  He liked the way it made his hair smell after a dye-job. He never used gloves when doing the job so one could always tell when he had recently put dye in his hair00 he had bright, dark blue hands.
 When Baxter had bursts of words come up through his throat, they were never vulgar.  Many people associate Tourette's Syndrome with cursing for no reason, but this wasn't the case for Baxter -- he just spouted out loads of jibberish whenever, and he never knew when it was coming.  His brain would subconsciously molest any phrases that came to his mind and he would have uncontrollable urges to say them-- and they came out whether he liked it or not.
He ate fish & chips at the SEAFOOD PALACE one time. He kept thinking out loudly about fish and: "FISHMAN TELEBATH BEETLES FOAMY FRIDGABEETLEMAN DUNCH NOW.. sorry, sorry."
Baxter always wore baby blue shorts with a white and sea green stripe around the cuffs. He had a black cape, and a pair of green and yellow goggles, as well as a pair of doc martins which went up to his calves.  He didn't really have much of a wardrobe, unlike his brother. He wore a shirt only when he had to, and even then, it was only a wife-beater.  At school, for example. He tried to go shirtless on the first day of highschool, but he got sent home for being inadequately covered. Now he wore a black wifebeater to school, every day. He had a couple of them, but he changed them only when they started smelling unlike rain and sweet flowers.
 The band's drummer kept changing. They couldn't find one who would stay put.  Their last one, Mick, had recently moved to Los Angelas.  The band nearly broke up because of that incident. They had a temporary replacement now; a poodle who everyone called Harry. He was a foreign exchange student from Ireland, and he had been in a Rocksteady band over there.

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the end, but not really. i just odnt feel like writing anymore right this minute.
But i will later.