Record Store Day!

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.

“I would have to give the edge to Refused’s The Shape Of Punk To Come over The Stooges’ Fun House. I’ll grant you…”

Before Punk Rock Aubry could finish his sentence, Rollie pulled out a pistol and shot him in the crotch!

Pistols are A Lot louder in real life than what they depict in the movies. I mean, I imagine they’d be loud, anyway, if you had a gunfight outside, but indoors, at the record store, it hurt like hell.

There’s the flash of the gun. Then, surprisingly late, there’s the sound.

The pop.

Imagine if your skull was a hollow tin sculpture. Like a giant skull-shaped whistle the size of, say, a pineapple. Imagine that you took a balloon and filled it with air and then tried to cram the inflated balloon into the hollow tin skull. After a few seconds, the balloon would pop inside the skull.

That’s what having a gun going off five feet away from you feels like.


I have to assume that Punk Rock Aubry was screaming in fear and agony, but I couldn’t hear a thing. It was like my head was stuck in a clothes dryer. His tight black jeans were slick with what I assume was blood – lots of it. Part of DropDead shirt was singed, which I didn’t expect.

Aubry’s writhing – and I hate to even think this… Aubry’s writhing evoked when Curly from The Three Stooges used to lie on the ground and ‘bicycle’ in a big circle. The weirdest part is that Punk Rock Aubry was probably emitting some ghastly “woowoowoowoowoo” sound at the time.

Scooter, the manager, had been standing behind me the whole time. Like I said, I couldn’t hear anything. He waved his arms and kept dropping the phone.

The mall security – these ex-Wackenhut guys – ran in and, without exaggeration, ran back out. Screaming. The sight of blood and all.

That’s how I discovered I didn’t mind the presence of gore and violence. With the payout from corporate, I went to school and became an emergency room nurse. Great fucking gig.

When we gave our statements to the police, we made sure to tell them The Shape Of Punk To Come was bullshit, and that Fun House was dope.

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