Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes.  Here is what I came up with.  I hope you like it.

“You said you weren’t bringing any weed with you on tour.”

“I only told you that so you wouldn’t freak out about us having all this weed.”

The members of the band had decided – at least superficially – not to bring any marijuana with them on their drive down the East Coast.  It was too risky.  Their van, a skewbald 1980 Ford Econoline, was patchwork with dozens of offensive stickers.  A few years earlier, the guys in The Jesus Lizard had drawn a meticulously detailed phallus on the driver’s side door, as a prank.  The van attracted attention.  Loading such an eyesore with marijuana, however well concealed, was a bad idea.

Upon arriving at The Khyber Pass, in Philadelphia , for the second show of the tour, they were alerted to a terrifying rumor that was prowling through the indie rock community:  the Georgia police had pulled over a Hüsker-damaged trio called 9-Volt and found reefer in the glove compartment.  9-Volt were cooling their six heels in Augusta, awaiting trial.  Their tour was a washout.  The hopheads faced a resonant fine that would surely derail their ‘careers.’

After a useless soundcheck, a meeting was called.  The band members stood outside the club.  They wore Dickies, Doc Martens and thrift shop Pendleton board shirts.  You could tell they were musicians.

“That shit with 9-Volt was bad news, man.”

“Yeah.  I’m surprised.  They’re smart guys.  One of ‘em is in, like, grad school.”

“Well, now he’s in jail.  We’re gonna have to go through the van and hide the weed extra hard.”

The beautiful, still Philadelphia night air made awkward silences all the more evident.

“You said you weren’t bringing any weed with you on tour.”

“I only told you that so you wouldn’t freak out about us having all this weed.”

“OK.  How much weed do we have?”

“A lot.  The spare guitar head doesn’t work at all.  It’s hollowed out and filled with…”

“Aw fuck…”

The lone member of the band who did not smoke weed performed a strange, writhing dance on the sidewalk in front of the club.  He was very upset.

“Cut the shit,” he was instructed.  “You’re gonna attract attention.”

“Why the fuck can’t you just buy weed in different places along the way rather than toting it along?”

“That’s not easy, y’know.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No shit.”

A very attractive young women wearing a silver tube top leaned out the door of the club.  She smiled and winked.

“Y’all are going on at 10 o’clock.”

“Thank you.”

The band played a great show – tight and menacing.  Afterwards, it was decided that they would retire to the promoter’s house in Conshohocken to smoke all the weed they had on hand.  The promoter was amenable to this idea, as were the other bands on the bill and their friends.

The band missed the next three bookings, and had to drive directly to Denton, Texas.  11 people attended the gig. 

Afterwards, they were given 50 dollars and a bag of weed.

2 thoughts on “Dragnet

  1. Or, a whole series where totally unrelated people doing unrelated things wind up in Denton, Texas. (Joking. But Denton’s actually a pretty cool place.)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s