UNDERGROUND A&R REPORT

From the book: American Empire 2010

Wasn't much to eat, just some old canned goods. I didn't need much but poor Spike was whining from hunger and looking at me with those big sad eyes. So I threw on my old worn out chinese made jacket and braved the winter rain to go up to my parent's trailer, a brief distance away. They hadn't been there in a couple of weeks, but I hoped to maybe find something food wise still there.

I had hoped earlier today to pick up a job with a cover band that actually practiced less than 30 minutes away. After about an hour of sloshing through songs every 17 year old should know, my wrist was freezing up nothing but solid pain. So when they wanted to start playing their set of mostly down-tuned numbers, I said I never played like that and didn't want to mess up the locked in tuning on my floyd rose. That got some looks and was good enough to call the audition short. I cursed my injury and those and their system that deemed it to happen; I could sure use the money, even from a copy band, and be able to once again fool good about and be able to use skills I spent most of my life honing.

Up in the trailer I found a half pack of those cheap red hot dogs Muzz had bought to mix in with Spike's food. He'd love that, and to be honest I didn't mind them either for my supper under the circumstances. Lucked up and found some sweet and sour sauce in the fridge that was still good. I also found a bag of potato chips still crisp and some no-name hot sauce in the fridge. Wasn't much, but it beat nothing. A can of sweet corn also was to be had in the cabinet. The hot sauce and corn would be lunch tomorrow, or perhaps breakfast.