It is
evening in Angelino Heights, and Lot 1 is thick with jumpy, snorting
alcoholics. The third to perform after Passionweiss and Fat Tony,
Amigo the Devil mounts the stage confidently, with the booze on his
breath and his heart filled with a joyous rage. The crowd, already
raucous and grinning with the bravo charlie, hoists upon him waves of
ragged applause. A girl passes out – she is draped unceremoniously
over a torn couch in the rear. Members of different and opposing
urban youth organizations mingle together peacefully, each man sizing
up the next, each man primed and ready to rape, pillage, and destroy.
Locally brewed beers flow freely and at decent prices, the barkeep
rushing to keep up. Another girl passes out, this one an attractive
blond – she is carried carefully outside and placed in the Devil's
tour van, where she lies, waiting, to be consumed by him later. Just
as the mood inside is nearing its peak of wild-eyed, skin-clawing
frenzy, Freddie Gibbs steps from the shadows spreading good cheer,
his eyes flashing with visions of the Devil strumming his banjo hard.
Via con diablo, amigos.
場黑麥
ioanni
elymucampus fecit
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