The following is a three-act play composed entirely of text messages sent back and forth between Gianluca Cefis (trenchcoat-wearing man-about-town) and Anthony Hansen (me) during an interminable opening set by some local noise-music asshats.
ACT ONE (in which the band begins):
Cefis: What the fuck is this?
Anthony: Hell.
Cefis: This sounds like a shitty version of the song we made... I feel like someone shoved a trench knife in my brain.
Anthony: This band has convinced me we could have a career. In murdering people.
Cefis: Agreed, this song sounds like what a seizure feels like...
~
ACT TWO (in which Cefis sends multiple texts detailing his displeasure):
Cefis: This is far too fucking pretentious. This is like an art exhibit consisting of an elderly man defecating into a flexing male model's mouth.
The worst part is that they look so bloody bored playing this godawful noise. It's like they have a sign floating over their heads that reads "shoot me".
I never thought I'd say this, but I think Dragonforce might be better than this...
~
ACT THREE (DEAR GOD MAKE IT STOP):
Anthony: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP YOU PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLES
Cefis: HEY MAN! THESE GUYS HAVE AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE TO TELL THE AUDIENCE! ABOUT HOW WE SHOULD MOB KILL THEM!
Anthony: FREEEEEBIIIIIIRD
Cefis: They should play In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.
Anthony: If I got high and listened to this I WOULD THINK I WAS GOING TO DIE.
Cefis: I'm just waiting for the fake horn... then I will burst like the fat guy from "Meaning Of Life".
Anthony: REEEEEEEEMIX
(the band stops.)
THE END.
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