We went on a trip to the southern islands, where we got mixed up into a bad crowd of people. Our bassist ended up sleeping with this sunglass dealer's wife that ended up being a multi-dealer of sorts, our road tech got with a prostitute that ended up being Fidel's sisters daughters little sister, and accidentally donkey punched her to death after a night at the tiki bar. We started up in bad shape at the local pool hall, and maxed all our credit cards, ended up getting into a fight with the local islanders at the pool hall about how to really make jungle juice and ended up smashing up the place. We were forced to write a palithula of checks all but two of which bounced. But long story long, we spent too much money on drinking, and gambling. So now we have to work at this shoe making sweat shop to come up with enough money to pay the sunglass/drug dealer off from killing our bassist, pay bond for our road tech, and get tickets home, where we will all be broke for the next following months as collecting agency's continue to mail us letters everyday and hunt us down as we travel across America fighting x-pro wrestlers in underground cage matches for cash (whether we win or lose) to get income that the IRS cannot track, while running from Dog and other bounty hunters that work for the nation credit bureau of America. It might be awhile before we continue writing music...but i promise you we will again.
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