Untitled 14
By SpK

Picture this: the CoEds tour, summer 98. The three people familiar with the band should know that this was right before we replaced Shit Dude with the cleaner, less loose MarShall. This was back when ‘tour’ meant playing street corners and the proms of out-of-state friends, a rock band low, and we used to inflict ourselves with every sort of road torture possible. We were driving through Kansas in a small van one sweaty afternoon when the combination of greasy diner food, drugs, and midwestern radio stations (which are just krokkus and country western) made three of the four of us violently ill at the same time. Gorgeous Boy did not fall sick, mostly because he was drunk and passed out on the dismantled drum kit. Our headaches and nausea worsened surprisingly fast, and we all proceeded to vomit in the same direction- towards the back of the van. Unfortunately, that’s where the drum kit and the Boy were resting. He awoke an hour later, covered in puke, but in a drunken haze. We managed to convince him it was his own, which stuck for a few weeks until he developed a rash on his stomach. It changed colors and began to ooze before we got money to take him to a clinic. The doctor said he had scratched his stomach enough to break the skin- which wasn’t unusual because we slept in nasty motel rooms and came down with crabs more than once- and it had become infected. But how? It turns out that Shit Dude had thrown up quite a large amount of near-fresh semen (she was a real skank back then) onto Gorgeous Boy’s torso and through his fresh wound it had passed along some sort of virus. His stomach looked gross and painful for a couple weeks but she has herpes for life.

That’s my story. We’ve been more sick, but this was the most embarrassing. If you do decide to include it, could you please send me a couple copies? I’d be happy to pay for them- I’d just like to see it.

Thanks,

SpK