Creepers Episode 3: The Long Haired Creeps

Once again, in a land far far away in the desolate midwest, I encountered another creep. I guess he wasn’t THAT creepy to me, but to the naked eye he was off the creep charts.

I had not seen this young man in awhile, he was a friend of a friend’s. Him and his other long haired creep companions invited my friend and I to their… ‘studio’. I’m pretty sure they had become heroin addicts at this point, but that’s normal in the midwest. People get really bored and depressed and wonder why summer went away. Anyway. The events unfolded as such:

Phase 1: Black Sabbath.

Upon arrival, the long haired brigade went into a female induced tizzy. They didn’t understand why we had come. (To enjoy their odd company of course… and they invited us…) So they decided to turn on some music. And as good little long haired creeps should, they decided to first soften our eardrums by blasting Black Sabbath at us. (Small room. Large stereo. Back to 1973 we go!) My friend and I pretended that we enjoyed going deaf, while the three wise men stared at the wall, occasionally making a weird squinty orgasm face that looked like it was followed with a ‘sense of accomplishment’ face. Half way through ‘Master of Reality’, they turned off the stereo.

Phase 2: Playing guitar.

One of the creeps had shut off the stereo. He NEEDED to play guitar. So we all sat in silence and pretended we liked his acoustic noodling. It ended after he dropped his lit cigarette through one of his pant holes.

Phase 3: Heavy Flow

The acoustic noodling opened a Pandora’s box, and suddenly the three creeps were scrambling around the room and turning on all the amps and the subwoofers. Uh oh. They turned all the dials to ‘loss of bowel control bass’ and started to play. It sounded heavy. It had a flow. It was like the soundtrack to my period. I tried to tell my friend this, but of course we could hear nothing over the bass, and suddenly she just started yelling heavy flow at the musicians. They stopped playing and she was still screaming “HEAVY FLOW! HEAVY FLOW!”

“Hey man. Isn’t that like… a tampon vocabulary… thing?”

“Nope…”

Phase 4: Lady's Turn.

I snatched the drumsticks away from the elfish looking dude and my friend wrangled a bass away from the 95 pound weakling and we began to jam at them, see how they liked it. They went to bathroom to shoot up. ‘How rude!’ my friend exclaimed. They came back and were somehow under the impression that I was this fantastic drummer. (It’s pretty easy to play drums ‘heavy flow’ style…)

We got bored. We left.

Phase 5: The Unique Proposition.

My creep texted me later that night. His text read:

“Hey girl lemme play yo pussy like a trombone”

Sigh.