A ROCK BAND IN MY MOUTH
The mouth on my chest opened wide. Drums pounding inside me as they sang. It was 3:00 A:M in the morning. Mouth was always hungry around that time.
When he wanted to eat the rock band that lived in the back of his throat played the song by Pearl Jam, 'I'm going Hungry'. The drums vibrated in my chest cavity and my heart beat to the beat of their drums. While the singer sang I'm going hungry. I'm going hungry over and over again till I fed it. Or them. It's confusing.
Sometimes when Mouth or them, really wanted to embarrass me they would sing dirty, nasty songs. Songs with sex and violence.
He forced me to put on a white hat and dance around. Especially when it was in Alice Cooper mode and wanted me to put black lipstick on its lips. Then it wanted pretend eyes and eyelashes.
As I'm doctoring it up I shake my head. “You know you're not a real person?”
I should've never said that. It was easy to hurt its feelings. When this happened the band played even louder.
People complained about the music in my mouth being too loud and screamed at me to shut it up.
Budweiser bottles by the dozen flew out along with chip wrappers, candy bars, popcorn and pretzels.
All night long it was crunch crunch crunch munch munch munch.
.Late at night I would wake to the smell of pot as they partied heavy all through the night.
Once the police came threatening to give me a ticket for violating the peace thingy or whatever.
Their drums echoing in my ears gave me a severe headache.
Of course I did try to feed the silly thing. All I wanted it to do at this point was just shut it up. It was getting me into trouble.
The mouth yelled. Screamed. Often using woman type high shrill screams. Enough to get peoples attention.
I tried placing a piece of duct tape over but somehow it always managed to tear it off and start talking again.
It talked about sports. Who won the ballgame and who was going to win the pennant and who wasn't.
Who was going to the world series.
He was like the hugest baseball fan in the world. I can understand I used to be a huge fan myself till I finally got disgusted about them crying about all the money they make.
Then it talked abut women. Claims it knows what women want.
But then again who was I to argue. I never get chick to come home with me. Not even a closing time beauty queen.
But these guys. The band members are always bringing in chicks to screw around with. I lay awake at night listening to them grunting and groaning. The slap of hand on butts as they spank each other silly, calling each other dirty names. One of them I know is into that S&M stuff.
Crack goes the whip.
“Harder... Harder.... Spank me. Make me feel cheap.” They say.
I'll tell you what women don't want. That's a man with a mouth on his chest with a band inside it. That's what women don't want.
It's just downright creepy,
I hear their burps.
Smell their farts.
The worse is the sound of the toilet flushing after their tummy's had a war with Taco Bell.
They liked to have their fun as well.
While standing in line at the grocery store, a pretty young blonde was standing in front of me. I could tell that she wasn't a real blonde cause of the dark color of the roots. I don't know why I noticed that.
She also wasn't a real woman and had herself converted. This was obvious by her thick legs with Schwarzenegger type thighs and her anvil shaped arms.
Besides the point. The band spat a big ole snot chunk in her hair. A long thick tongue slivered out as if it were a snake and tickled her earlobe
She turned around, grinned at me and brushed her hair.
They all spat.
“Stop it,” I said.
“Wanna see something neat?” I asked. I opened my mouth.
The band broke out with their guitars and keyboards.
She leaned in closer to peek inside. “Awesome.”
She stood there for a few minutes in awe as the band played. Then she got out of line and climbed inside. Now I've got an extra person living in there.
“Awesome. Cool. Rock on,” the band said. “Hot chick dudes.”
“No hanky panky in there.” I don't know why I bother to talk to them in there, they never listens to me anyway.
If I seem to be babbling that cause I'm sleep deprived. I haven't slept a wink since the mouth formed on my chest and the band moved in.
Don't know what I did to deserve it.
Doctors said they don't know either and just chalked it up to some sort of medical phenomenon. Actually, they thought it was kinda neat.
I tried to keep my shirt over it to hide it but it wiggles and squirms under my shirt till I lift it up.
“Feed me,” it says. “Feed me.”
I shoved hamburgers down it's throat. Whoppers from the Big King. Quarter pounders and Chick-filet. The worst is White Castles, aka, belly bombers. Talk about smelling up the place with onion farts.
It was hard to keep track of it all. Who wanted fries and who wanted regular coke and one of the band members was on a diet and only wanted diet soda and on this low carb kick. Yeah, try staying on that.
And I took a couple doses of Pepto Bismuth and a roll of Tums.
I don't have any idea where they're putting it all. You'd think it would go down my belly it seems to have a body of its own.
A body within my body perhaps.
No mater how much I fed it it wasn't enough. So I started shoveling shrimp and lobster down its throat by the bucket fulls.
Still, they wanted more.
They had a dark-side to them too. While standing in line at the store again a baby was in a cart in front of me. She couldn't have been no more than four maybe. Mouth opened wide and the band waved from back in the throat. She ooed and coooed. Next I heard a chainsaw rev up and she reached out.
It was too late. The band cut hr fingers off.
The girl cried as blood spurted.
The mouth laughed as I heard them all chewing vigorously. I could hear the bones crunching and blood trickled down the side of its mouth.
It moved and wobbled.
“I'm not going to let you bite off peoples fingers.”
I knew they weren't going to give up till I gave them what they wanted. The question was, how was I going to do this?
A man with Jacksonville Brat fingers is standing at the meat section. He has big thick hairy fellas.
“Yum,” mouth said.
“Excuse me, Sir. Can I see your finger for just a second?”
“Excuse me?” He peered over his thick glasses.
The aroma of charcoal and hickory wafted out of my mouth.
“I need to look at your fingers.”
“Your fingers. We need your fingers.”
Well, so much for that. Feeding mouth fingers was nearly impossible. Nobody was going to give up their fingers that easy. I thought, okay. Have it your way. But, what the band wants. The band gets.
I followed him around the store keeping a safe distance. I watched him go through the check out and followed him to his car then hit him over the head with a steel rod. Then I cut his fingers off with a pair of scissors. It was like cutting a turkey bone with those meat cutting scissors.
I dug and dug and dug. Finally they fell off. I picked them up and fed them to the band in Mouth.
“There, I hope you're happy.”
They didn't say anything and as they appeared to be delighted with the fingers.
“Let's get out of here,” I said.
“I just fed you.”
I spot a little girl walking across the parking lot. Mouth whistled.
The girl looked in our direction.
“Wanna see something neat?”
“Sure,” she said.
The band stood at the tip of Mouth's tongue and all of the band members smacked her in the face with their guitars.
I dragged her to the car and brought her home.
They were so happy they were rolling around inside me with delight as I chopped the girl into pieces and fed them.
That seemed to satisfy for a while. But soon they were going to be hungry again. I'm just glad that I live in a big city.
Oh, no. What's going on now. People are lined up at my door. There's cabs and limos. I see a lot of famous actors.
Look, there's George Cooney. And wow! Melissa McCarthy. How awesome it that? Oh, she's real hoot that one. Now, wait a second. Wait just a second. Is that Brad Pitt? Oh my gosh. The real Brad Pitt.
They walk into my house and climbed inside my mouth.
Looks like it's concert night for the third night in a row. I sure hope they all watch themselves in there.