The Old Days of Dope City

Back in the old days of Dope City punk rock I think me and the Sliverville brothers used to make some of the Dopers a little nervous. It was not like we caused much trouble or anything, it was just that we were from Sliverville. Some of the Dopers were from Sliverville too but they had moved to the big city as soon as they figured out how to use the transit system. We stayed in Sliverville like a cancer on a cancer. And none of us ever moved to Dope City. Some of us got close but we never lived there.

Some of the punks asked us, "How can you fuckheads keep living in a town as fucking backward as Sliverville?" Like they thought they were living in New York or some place that was really a city. We would tell them, "All Dope City has that Sliverville doesn't is more coke and better looking whores." I do not think Sliverville even had whores in those days. Dope City hogged them all.

The Dope City punks told us every time they visited Sliverville they got the shit beat out of them. The police did not even beat the shit out of us. They were too busy with the other ranks of a terminally criminal city to even allow us to register on their radar. As far as they knew we had not killed anybody so we went on our merry way.

Not that the police never said hello. When they left we would howl about being stopped with our pounds of undetected substances of questionable origin and strength. "Stupid pigs!"

The Dope City punks could never understand the joys of driving downtown from the suburbs throwing empty beer bottles at inanimate objects and yelling "Yee-fucking-haw-haw-haw-haw," like we were from Alberta or Steepleton. And while the Dopers were city-bound and proud of it we were as happy out in the wild country shooting off our guns as we were pounding beer and banging bodies in the Bad Allah.

Us Slivervillians were always on our guard with the Dope City Punks even though we knew most all of them were great people. When we went to after hour parties we stuck together real close. The Dopers would just eye our steel toed boots and armfuls of booze and let us party. They were fucking great.

Sometimes at a party a punkette would take an interest in one or all of us. Eventually she would slur, "So where you boys from?" Just as soon as we told her we were from a town that makes Buttholeville, USA look appealing she would disappear like we had told her human flesh is porky meat as a set of cutlery and stained rope poked out of the pockets in our black leather jackets.