THE OFFICIAL BOSS TRIBAL PAGE
The Internet Archive is the gift that keeps on giving . . . Joe found this one from 1997.
By Mark "Mad Dog" Miller, firstname.lastname@example.org. It's a long one, full of inside jokes
and gratuitous sex, language, violence, and rock 'n' roll. Very, VERY stupid, but I
promised him it would be on...you'll laugh with a "huh?" like I did. Unedited.
Party Out of Control!!
"I'd like to have your attention. We have come to kick your ass!"
James Hetfield (lead vocal of Metallica) anounced. The crowd yelled in
anticipation as Metallica began to blast a song that defend us all and
snuffed out our voices even two inches away from the person next to you.
A masive mosh pit ofof bloody shirt torn headbaning maniacs filled the side
of the stage. You could see the blood splash off a few people as a
gargantuan sized fan buldozed a few innocent listeners. A tooth or two
flung out of his mouth as he was uppercuted by a swift elbow to his emense
jaw. After Metallica walked off, Weezer bolted onto the scene. The fans
raised their beers and cheered in insanity as the band started to play. I
was still recovering from a wound to the eye that bleed with gushes,but I
had so much energy that I could definitly keep up with the vivatious crowd.
The junkies near the barn were tripping up and puffing on thick wads of
gonja and hashish smoke. The smoke was a looming cloud so thick that it
knocked out four people. For Weezer's oncore presintation they through open
bottles, cans, and even open vat kegs of genuine draft wide into the air
making a collodge of golden yellow. Colt Wilson personally soaked by his
coussin (Pat Wilson-the drummer). He gaped his face in the alcohalic golden
shower. His tounge trying to catch every morsal and essense the alcohal had to offer.
A nearby neighbor was deeply offended by all the rucus. Dailing
speedily, the woman called the police. Bob Cop was just about with his
shift when the call was patched to his cluttered file filled blue and white
office with a dank desk covered in trinkets. He leaned back in his swival
chair as he answered the phone. He jumped out of his seat and rounded up a
few more cops. "Come on everyone! We're goin' ta Yeager's!" Bob cop said.
Meanwhile 311 was playing on the barn stage. It was either the
smoke from the waistless junkies, the stench of the fruitless alcohal, or
the big breasted women that got me to do somthing insane. Hurling myself up
the hard rough Birtchwood rafters, I tied a car bungie cord around my
ankle. Looking at the crowd I saw everything; the manic fans trashing the
stage and slipping on beer as they were engorging themselves in the blaring
atmosphere of music,the junkies from out of town who puffed and weezed on
their boles laughing at their own idiocy while flapping their green and
dark brown scruffy jackets, and the "Love Corner" where all the hoes and
hoochie-mamas went and grabbed every man they could find by shaking their
butts in their tight jeans and bouncing theirlarge boobs in their cheap cut
off shirts.I took a risk and jumped. I felt the thrash of hot summer air
rush against my cheeks as I spiraled downward faster and faster seeming
like I was going to break a barrier in volocity. The streatch of the of the
black bungie cord snapped. Frightened for my life that I would die, yet
luckily I landed softly. I landed on three of the Cerisani boys, one was
Asa. I scurried to my feet. Asa half uncontious thinking the half stoned
half drunk guy next to him hit him. Asa flew in a hurricane of fists
beating the hell out of the kid. From what happened after many fights broke
out. A chain reaction of violence spread across the small shakey barn.
Furious catfights and team ups resulted in an aray of brutal distruction.
Chairs and tables were thrown from the corner where a few kids were playing
Asshole. I managed to move near the door unharmed.
The sound of the band stopped playing and was replaced by the
horid shreiks of sirens. Bob and his battalian came running in with sticks
and sheilds dark as night. Someone through a cocktail bomb which lit a pile
of crisp dry hay on fire. Flames exerted forth causing a firey blaze. My
freind Jon saw the cops get ever so closer. He gasped, " Yo B, I' gonna
make'a run for it!". Jon took off but was sacked hard by a half beaten
officer with a broken nightstick. Pizza, Frito Lays, Funions, and beer were
tossed like gernades. The fire rose to the roof overtaking everything. Like
a pack of ravenous raging beasts,the cops and partiers trampled over
everything, clawing out for an exit. I managed to escape with minor
bruises. I laughed as I looked back and stared at the naked women from the
"Love Corner" run. I hopped on my 4-wheeler and buzzed off in the dark back
home listening to the distant screams and burning of flames. I thought to
my self as I rode, "The Yeagers throw the wildest parties........I can't
wait till next year.
(^_^) THE END(^_^)