RazorticK - Jarboney

       This was the last time I would save my hero Jarboney from the third avenue boys. Jarboney had the cock of three grown men and still he wants to fuck fat chicks from The south side of the district. I walked three miles that day to find this fuck in a ditch on the south side. 

      "Never again, you fucking prick; you Hear me Jarfoney limp dick mother fucker?"  Jarboney looked at me a minute then said with his cool breeze of a voice and said "these chicks are begging me to plow them; I should get a fucking medal or something." Jarboney was too cool now, he gets his zippo out and grabs his lucky cig behind his ear and lights it right in the middle of the Catskills Gauntlet. "No man, these people want us dead if we don't walk out of this district soon, the Jeb boys are gonna wipe the floor with us Jar, listen to goddamned reason." I said with a smile on my face because I knew damn well that we were about get in fists with a Jeb walking up at us from thirty five feet away.

      

      This Jeb was packing salami weiners that you get from the butcher's, he started swinging it like numbchucks and hit Jarboney right square in the jaw. Jarboney shook off the momentary dumb founded look and grabbed his rubber dildos he had hidden in his backpack. They were chain linked for her pleasure and he swung back with masterful grace. “Eat my fist of dils you jebbah the hut”. He hit the Jeb right in the right leg with a cross armed swing to the fucking knee cap, the Jeb started whaling like a goddamned orca floundering on a beach in nova Scotia or some shit. “No south side cunts gonna make me lose my fucking cool” Jarboney said as he whacked him on the ground a few more times until the Jeb passed out. Jarboney was my goddamned hero, 

      he smelled of old spice and beef and could eat someone under the table, it seemed like he had five stomachs producing nothing but three logs of shit.

      “Nix, you want to head out to Dawson’s Stream and see that one girl you like named Pacey, that tomboy with brown hair and mustache.” He said with his Italian accent. I grabbed my switch blade comb and combed my hair back and said “lets head to Pacey's burger joint”.

      We managed to walk the thirty feet to are burrow Dawson's Stream, a park sits between the burrows. Pacey was busing tables in the local burger joint and had that sad glazed look in her eyes, I think she was thinking of Joey her fat uncle the guy with amazing tits and a beard and long brown hair. 

      “Nix, you look like you need tickets to Southside thickets, got a Jeb you want to beat the shit out of?” said Jarboney looking pale like I took the wind from his sails, he padded my shoulder and said “let’s get you to old Doc Honeywood for some medicine of his to help get you out of this funk Nixcess.”

      Old Doc Honeywood was in his hammock laying down drinking his milk when we came in through the screen door of is apartment home. His hammock was strung up in the living room with piles of books littered throughout the house and Old Doc knew about the classics of Klume, Klume was where we come from in case you didn't know my friends. “Have you read the ‘United States of Klume’ yet Jarboney? It should give you quite a laugh my son, how are you fairing Nixcess; you look dead inside something ailing you?” The Doc took a swig from the jar of milk and passed it to me and I fucking suck it down almost religiously like I was at church or something. 

      “I’m pregnant Doc, I might as well die or eat forty baby back ribs and swim til I throw up; my fucking uterious is fucking killing me. This fucking pussy is fucking throbbing from aches and pains.” I said all this to Doc and Jarboney; and they just started munching on cheese crackers and spraying cheese whip on the crackers and laughing. That’s when I awoke…

      “Fuck, I had that same dream again Pacey; where you’re a goddamn stripper working a pole and I’m doing time for robbing banks” I said feeling awkward and emotional like I was preggers. Pacey was in bed next to me and she was wearing eye cover and was still in the thoughts of her dream state and didn’t want to wake.

      I got up and jumped in the shower and after that I went into the kitchen to fill a bowl of marshmallowy cereal called ‘mellow bits' and poured the last of a gallon of milk. I quickly ate in my underwear, but a soon as that last drop of milk hit my throat I was up and in my threads. 

      I wear only black and support only the best bands in the world with shirts I wear, I’m not posing with the bands like some may do in the metal community, 

      I wear bands that say something other than gog and magog in there lyrics. 

      Recently I started hearing this underground band called RazorticK, it's Industrial so the parameters of the music can be far different than a typical metal band. The band is more a project than real band and has one member named William Clark Mace III who writes his music on a computer, I know what your fucking thinking, oh it's fucking hard house techno shit, fuck no it's something far different than that I get lost in the chasm that is RazorticK. This mother fucker is a lyrical god among men, he seems to have the best sense of themes for his chaos/control sound. Tonight we get to hear him do his live set here in the U.S. of K. I can't wait hear ReticK as longer fans know of RazorticK call it. 

      So I took off from my apartment and took the drag that’s right out front of my apartment east toward the Billows Towers and first stop by the milk mart and pick up a forty of milk and some snacks and head northeast to Billows Towers. 

      Jarboney was next to the Milk Mart hitting on berth a fat chick the size of a whale, he had her giggling and starring into his eyes like she was his fucking princess. I signal Jar with my pointy finger “let's go” and we hed into the Milk Mart with a few mounds of duckets to pay for the Milk Forties and we get them wrapped in paper bags and were off.