The Poison Tour Diary via Metal Sludge
 June 18, 2001 / 215 reads / No comments yet


"Spookey Stacey & The Elm Street Children"

A bit of personal info to kick this one off..
Long, long ago, on a tour bus far away. Me and some chick were in a compromising situation. She was atop me and she was nekkid holding my penis and trying to insert it into her vaginal region. Nice thing, however, I am a responsible lad and insisted that we use protection. She was angst about that notion and insisted that it wasn't necessary. I insisted that it was. This went back and forth until I was damn near limp from the aggravation.

Finally, I made the fateful comment. "I have herpes, so we really need to use this thing". Well, that was it! I didn't have herpes and I don't, but this was my last verbal resort to get it through her head that it wasn't going to happen without a Coney Island Whitefish. Well, blah went to blab and soon enough, I was being stricken with herpes comments from everyone she told. Bad news travels fast. Bottom line, I don't have herpes, I wear rubbers and I will make stupid verbal judgments in compromising positions. Haven't we all? Not you? Please... The things we do for love. Rest assure, believe it or not, your truly is clean.
Onward... (Yeah, I threw the new diary concept layout away already. Too compromising.)

We are now in the part of the country that likes to bust balls. I know, I'm from the East Coast. I've had to readjust to the ballbust!

Anyone like my new tattoo? It's a star. It's on my arm. I can stretch it. It represents me being a star and yes, I can stretch that like my new tattoo and I do. Make sense? I didn't think so.
Whoever saw the show last night knows I dropped a few sticks. I admit it. I was being overly adventurous and with Fuckazo being stage left all night, I was nervous that he'd do something fucked to me. Why? I made him get his eyebrows waxed. Before he looked like he had a fur lined head and we all know how I feel about real fur. FREE THE FUCKAZO FOREHEAD FUR!

Side Note (I usually have a few of these.): Smoothie's sister is fuckin' hot! We finally met. Yeah, yeah, she's married, I know. I had no idea she was this hot. Smoothie was nonchalant about it too. "Hey, Rikki, meet my sis." This angel appears. Damn! Down boy! Fuckazo also pitched a tent when he met her and it was gross. The fuckin' White trash vampire strikes again!
Second Side Note: Some dude tried to take my leopard snare last night. My tech Paul, (who I stole from Dokken by the way), considers my drums as his. "Drums good, this guy bad!" Boom, boom, out go the lights! Thanks Paul. I like your work!
Third Side Note: Dee Snider joined us onstage for a rendition of "We're not gonna take it!" in Conn. It was quite awesome. Thank you Dee, from all of us!

Rikki, tell us a story...
What you about to read is true. I have not changed the names and I'll probably regret it...
There once was a girl named Stacey. Spooky Stacy to be exact. We met two years ago on the 1999 tour. Stacy has a band that she plays drums in called The Elm Street Children. She likes me because I play drums too and also because I have a plastic fetus that was taken from an abortion clinic and given to me by a couple of punk chicks (see last years diary). Spook wants that plastic fetus. (Still with me?) Spooky Stacey loves cats, not just live ones, mind ya. See, she develops a kind of kinship that she believes transcends death. So, Spooky has seven cats, five of which are stuffed atop her mantle in her bedroom. This has got to be seen to be believed. Well, on our day off last week, I agreed to come visit her. She picked me up at 8:00 p.m. in her black refurbished Covair. She is the living version of "Emily". Black hair (Betty Page style), little schoolgirl like dress and overdrawn lipstick. She puts blue food coloring in the bathtub and soaks in it so her skin looks blue. She carries a coffin shaped purse that her rat "Mathias" sleeps in. I actually dig the way she looks because it is the way she feels and that's kinda cool.

Spooky was excited to see me and even more excited that her forensic catalog came in the mail that morning. When she smiles, this little girl comes out in her and against her spooky look, is quite riveting. She always kinda turned me on when she smiled, but I have always been afraid to go there. "You hair looks like shit Rikki", She starts out on me right away. "I'm tired Stacey, I've had a long week, give me a break!" I repent to her. "Fair enough, she says, just wear a hat next time you are lazy like this." "You wacked off today, didn't you?" she asks out of nowhere. "No, why?" I retort. "You better not have! She sez, That is so self-indulgent." "Isn't all sex?", I reply. "That isn't sex. She goes on. That is pure self gratification". Anyway, you get her attitude. Tough reform school bitch.
We finally arrive at Spooky's house. She has a roommate that is never there and she has the normal goth chick fair of black telephones, Alien Sex Fiend and Christian Death stickers on the frig., homemade coffin in the living room, black roses and black curtains closed all day long. "Wanna see my bone collection?" She asks. "Sure, sweetie", I answer slowly and deliberately. She leads me into a room with purple carpet and gypsy lamps with a glass case from a pawn shop brush painted back with red velvet lining. Little bones of every thing that crawls and walks is laid out like a coin collection with little labels. A painting by serial killer turned artist, the late John Wayne Gacy, adorns the wall. It depicts "Pogo The Clown" flying a kite. Spooky surrounds herself with death and the macabre. I think that this stuff generally means that a person is actually afraid of death and so becomes obsessive. But, that's just the Dr. Rockett in me thinking out loud. Who knows?
Spooky likes old school death rock and despises new goth. She calls Marilyn Manson a new age carney man with no real spine. This rubs me a bit wrong as Ginger Fish is my good bud. I don't bother arguing with her, it's pointless as is every argument with her. What really makes Spooky tick is her obsession with Voodoo. She claims that some dude who she thought was the hottest guy on the planet who did her wrong, was dead because of her. She says she got so horny thinking of him that she put his voodoo doll likeness in her twat and she was so horny that he actually drowned at the same time in a pool two states away. What the fuck ever! But then again, what if...

"How many fuckin' cunts have you been with this tour so far Rikki?" She fires at me. "I've been a good boy, why?" I answer. "Bullshit, she sez, you are glowing with the slime of soulless women around your aura." Spook, please stop it. I say, Am I not supposed to be having fun with you today?" "Are we born to have fun? Is that what is all about, Rikki?" She goes on, and on and on. "Spook! Stop it! I am not in the mood right now!" I shout. "O.K., fine. Iıll chill out on ya. You know I love you deep down, just relax." Spook leans back onto the floor and pulls my hand trying to get me to the floor at the same time. I relax and let her guide me down. "I wish no one would ever touch you but me, that's the truth. Sorry I get so pissy", She sez, being way too sweet at this moment. At this point, I just stay silent.

"I'm on the rag, so forget trying to fuck me, she sez. But, you can jack off looking at me if you want to." Wow! This is ballsy! "I thought you said that it is self indulgent?" I ask. "Not with me it isn't." she sez and with that, she opens her top and exposes a pair of well rounded augmented bluish breasts that look almost purple with the red lights that shine on them in her room of death. Her eyes roll back in her head and she looks like a gargoyle in the dimly lit room as she anticipates me whacking off. Now, I like a little spice now and again, but this is getting weird. She slowly moves her black painted finger nail hand down between her legs, moves her lace panties to the side and begins to rub and writhe in her glory. O.K., this is kinda cool, but it's really not what I had in mind. In fact, I didn't have anything in mind. I reach down to my crotch to discover that, in spite of this odd array of visual stimuli, I did in fact have a woody. Now I feel very weird. Iım in a room full of bones with a voodoo chick fingering herself on the floor. The whole place smells like a school lab and here I am stroking Mr. Happy and didn't even realize that I had a hard on before that.
"Viagra." She sez, between breaths. "Huh" I say. "Viagra. Works good, huh? I gave you some in your Diet Coke earlier. A full dose too. You'll be hard for hours. Enjoy baby!" "What the fuck?" I don't need that shit, I say. Here I am, sporting wood that you could hang the days laundry on and I'm with some chick, who wants me to whack off for ... maybe hours?

"Spook! Why the fuck would you do that?" "Shut the fuck up and enjoy it! It's too late now.
She quips. True enough, but now I feel violated. "Just don't cum for a while or you'll still have a hard on and it might start to hurt." She informs me. So, I am supposed to fondle my joystick for like an hour while this blue chick pleasures herself in a room full of bones and serial killer paintings? Am I the asshole or do I just not get it? I have never taken this shit and the feeling isn't at all normal. "One of these days we'll do "E" and take this shit too. That'll be fun!" She adds. "Yeah, well, asking me first might be the right thing to do, Spook." "Would you quit your bitchin', she sez, come a little closer. Let me do that."
Just about the time I start to adjust to the this odd idea and the Dante's Inferno like situation, the door slams open. "What the fuck are you doing bitch!" A black figure stands in the doorway. "Who the fuck is this asshole?" The figure spitting words again. A bevy of laughter ensues from the figure suddenly. "I can't believe it, the guy from Poison is jacking off in my house. What a fuckin' sight!" Ha, ha, hah! "Get the fuck outta here! Spooky yells. Ha, ha hah! The figure, obviously some guy, continues with his ball busting laughter. He now comes into view. Shaved head, four piercings through his nose and tattoos of demons touching hands embracing around his neck. This has now become a bad movie that went straight to video. "If you cum, your fucked!" The guy sez to me. "She'll use it in one of her stupid spells." "Shut the fuck up!" Spooky sez in a deliberate tone. "I'm serious bro, she's fucked up dude!" He insists. "Spook, get me outta here, this isn't fun!" I say. "Fine, numb nuts has to ruin everything, I guess. Your fucked now!" She aims her words at mystery man who is obviously the roommate who is never there, but is now.

Later that night...
In short, sitting at your hotel room after a fiasco like that with an unsuppresable hard on was not in the brochure. Sure, I finally whacked off, hit the wall and went to bed only to awake with a very sore weenie.
I haven't spoken to Spooky Stacey since, but she has left messages that are rather threatening though. She says she'll be at some more shows this year. The Elm Street Children are playing a club soon. They want to open for Poison. I got an e-mail about that. Lesson one: If you meet a living version of "Emily" who plays drums with well rounded breasts, walk away or possibly be damned for ever. I know I am.

p.s. Spooky Stacey is not to be confused with Spooky Stephanie, who happens to be a sweetheart.
p.s.s. For Fuckazo's sake. Spooky Stacey sez she does not have a voodoo doll of you and your back problems are not of her doing. She added that it would be a vulgar display of power on her part. A Fuckazo doll? Now that would be vulgar!

--Rikki
"You laugh because Iım different, I laugh because you are all the same."

- Ancient Goth Cookie Saying

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