Latchkey musicians.

I thought the light was on your side of the stable. Jesus ... just reach over and click it on, will you? What? No electricity? I paid the light bill, damn it. Oh ... I see. No wiring in the barn. Got it.

Well, friends, you know what they say - if you're planning on spending years in a squathouse, it's a good idea to spend the night there before you sign the paperwork. (Yes, even squathouses require paperwork. Look it up.) That's what we elected to do, since our nasty third-floor neighbors in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill started driving us out of our longtime squat with their loathsome habits and noisy weekending. It's not easy to contemplate giving up the home you've known for nigh onto twenty years. But if nothing else, we of Big Green are practical. That's why we only tour venues that are deep in interstellar space - it keeps the competition down.

Anyway, we got a tip on an old horse barn a couple of minutes from the hammer mill; apparently no one has used the building for a decade or more. We trooped over there, on foot, and bunked down for the night. Now, when I say "bunked", I don't mean to suggest that there were actual bunks in this place. It was kind of like a stationary hay ride ... not that I've ever been on a hay ride, but I'm guessing it's a slightly more kinetic version of what we experienced last night. Am I making myself clear?

Is it morning yet? Mother of pearl ...

Then, about 5 a.m., some dude came in and mistook Marvin (my personal robot assistant) for some kind of agricultural implement. I think he was digging post holes or something else kind of farmer-y. That's when we pulled up stakes.

Okay, so the red barn isn't going to work out. It was worth a go. We'll just tough it out on the ground floor and basement of the Cheney Hammer Mill for the time being, checking the classifieds and the local Pennysaver for affordable rentals, then X-ing them out because we can't afford rent. Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, is working on some kind of force field to throw up between us and our feisty neighbors upstairs. (I told him there's at least two floors between us and them already, but hey ... he needs something to do.)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

R.I.P., uber rich lady atop killer empire

All the king’s robots and all the King’s pens

Stop hiding your light under that bushel.