Written mostly because I wanted to write SOMETHING around the song (which is pt. IV, "Cecil Otter Tattoo," of King of Minneapolis pts. III and IV by Bomb the Music Industry). They're about seventeen or eighteen. It's really, really short. And yes, I still love the idea of a punk Pip.
"And I know I'm
not dead because I just threw up in my own mouth and swallowed
back.
This hangover ain't that bad."
I wake up, glad to be alive (like every morning—they're pretty good to wake up to when you're so used to dying) and wondering where I am. I remember a party last night…but where? There's music blasting. Thanks a ton to the host, whoever they are. Did they stop to consider that people here would have hangovers? Maybe if I listen to it I can figure out where I am.
"When I wish I was
dead
And I hate my friends
I must repeat this 'til the end."
Some underground, unrecognizable punk shit.
Pip's place. I remember being mad at the guys—over something stupid, I don't even know what it is now—and needing to just get away from everything. Pip's parties usually get a little wild—appropriately so, he lives on his own—and I figured it was the perfect place to go.
I know I did a lot of drinking last night. I'm lucky though, I only have a slight headache and I don't feel too much like puking. Like whatever the hell the guy in this song was singing about—this hangover isn't that bad. Pip probably has some cute little good luck story to go along with it.
There's a pressure on my orange-clad arm. Bebe. She looks so comfortable, and so peaceful. I don't want to bother her.
But shit, she's drooling on my hoodie. Gross.
I pull my arm out from under her and stumble into Pip's kitchen, where he's serving coffee to all the disheveled youths that passed out in his apartment last night. Tweek is attending to the coffee machine and can't keep his eyes off Pip. He really has it bad for the guy.
Pip hands a cup o' caffeine to me and grins. "Like the song?"
I down half the cup and nod. "What's the story behind it?"
"Eh, not much to it. Just woke up with a hangover and decided to put it on one morning. The hangover ended up being not that bad. I figured the song must be good luck, and now I put it on every morning after a party." See? I was right.
I laughed and finished the coffee as Bebe fell into the kitchen. I slipped my arm behind her back to steady her.
"When I wish I was
dead
And I hate my friends
I must repeat this 'til the end.
I
still have a home even if my home's a van.
You still have a home
even if your home's a van."
I really liked this song.
