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My moshing days are long past. I’m not at the “drink beer and hang out at the back” stage yet. “Get up front but avoid annoying people” is where I’m at now. But I remember my young and reckless days fondly. Those were in college, which for me was in Texas. They make people bigger in Texas. (High school football is a religion there.) My moshpit action mostly consisted of getting bounced around by people twice my size. I learned the importance of elbows.
My best moshpit story comes not from a metal show, but from a Reverend Horton Heat show. For those unfamiliar with The Reverend, they’re a psychobilly band that’s been around for almost 25 years (holy moly!). They’re probably the band I’ve seen the most in my life. The last time I saw them, which was in San Francisco, the crowd was relatively sedate. It was mostly greasers and their girls sipping overpriced drinks. But back in the day, The Reverend could whip up a crowd something fierce. At times, they were practically a thrash band. I’d put classic Reverend third only to Slayer and Converge in terms of bodily harm potential at shows.
Once I saw The Reverend play, and I was standing up front. They hit their first note. Boom! Everything turned blurry. I looked down and saw my glasses on the ground. I scooped them up before they got trampled. That first note had rocketed some large person straight into my side. Not even Slayer or Converge have de-glasses-ed me. 15 years ago (or thereabouts), and I remember it like it was yesterday. That’s my best moshpit story. Not so violent or glamorous, but definitely memorable. What’s yours?
I once had to drive a student of mine and her husband home after her husband shattered his right ankle crowd surfing in a GWAR pit. He was supposed to have been the designated driver, and she was already too drunk to drive. I was the only other person there that they knew, and i was dead sober for some reason.
Anyway, the class had to turn their final projects in the next day at eight in the morning (the student had originally been procrastinating by going to the concert, only to find me there). She did get her final project in on time, along with a thank you card.
The biggest bummer was that, like most adult students I know, they didn't have insurance. I never heard from the student about what happened later, but I imagine those bills were pretty steep. It makes me feel old to say this, but don't mosh without insurance, kids. Especially if you're a short guy who gets tossed around easily.
The fact that your story is about Reverend does in fact make for a very interesting story! I remain a tad skeptical about the veracity of if you're pulling our leg!
I was always a stand in front but out of trouble guy. I however lost my glasses twice. Once got smashed to smithereens at a Rollins Band show and the other split down the middle at Fear Factory. For the latter, it was fun driving home 2 hours with each half balanced on my face.
My best story isn't even my own story. Back in probably 1997 I saw 311 and Zebrahead at Axis in Boston with a bunch of other friends. Zebrahead was playing their set and upon getting ready for their last song, the singer (not the rapper) told the crowd something along the lines of of "When we hit this riff I want you to punch the person next to right in face and break this fuckin floor". That's a looose quote but it's pretty close. Anyway with that , the guitarist hit the riff and somebody punched my friend (who was 6'6" about 230 lbs.) square in the face. His eyes immediately swelled and looked like Rokcy after he fought the Russian. With the impact of the punch, I litterally saw him go head over heels and his size 16 shoes went flying. The rest of the night he walked around the club in his socks. Soaked and disgusting as expected. When the lights came on I saw someone walking with one of the mammoth shoes through the crowds. Needless to say, I grabbed the shoe gave it to my friend. His face was so fucked looking, the guys from Zebrahead felt bad and gave him a t-shirt for free at the merch table. If I remeber correctly, it was a Zebrahead shirt fashioned to look like a Coca Cola logo. Anyway, after the show we got on the train. End result: he had a broken nose, 2 black eyes one Airwalk shoe and one dirty sock (he ditched the other sock when he got his one shoe back.
1994 or 95ish. Pantera headlining with White Zombie and the Deftones opening. Augusta, Maine. Maine doesn't get that many metal shows, so when one comes through, everyone around shows up, including the drunken rednecks who are more about violence than music. Nobody knew who the Deftones were and White Zombie hadn't put out Astrocreep yet so they were only known for Thunderkiss '65 and Black Sunshine at that point. Not a huge draw. Most everyone was there for Pantera. The crowd pretty much stood still during the Deftones' set, so I, a scrawny 16 year old, made my way right up to the front (*I* was a big White Zombie fan at that time) and got to see them up close. Again, the crowd was really tame during their set. As Pantera was getting ready to go on, some people started pushing a bit to get closer, but it didn't seem like a big deal. I had about two or three people between me and the barricade. The second Pantera come out and hit the first note, the big, sweaty, shirtless, drunken redneck directly in front of me hauls his arm back and starts punching the kid in front of him in the side of the head. Hard. Repeatedly. The kid must have had no idea what was even happening. I and everyone around there was getting splattered with his blood. It took a few seconds for security to notice what was happening. By that time, the kid's face is pulp and he's sinking. As the swarm of security descended, I turned and got the fuck away from the psychopath as fast as I could. It was basically like seeing the "I wanted to destroy something beautiful" scene from Fight Club in person from about 2 feet away.
Hatebreed-Tattoo the Earth, Giants Stadium, '00. The opening bands were playing in the parking lot; the stage was split in two with bands playing in rotation fashion(one plays, the other preps, etc.). This was my first time seeing Hatebreed (as every other show they were supposed to play that I tix to they bailed/was cancelled/etc.).
The banner goes up behind the drum kit, Jamey comes out and says (and this is pretty much verbatim) "WE'RE HATEBREED FROM CONNECTICUT WE'VE GOT 20 FUCKING MINUTES LET'S FUCKING GO" and they go into "Empty Promises." In slow motion I turn and see a guy's fist (which appeared to be as big as a cinderblock) coming at my face and proceed to knock me square in the cheek. I go down, glasses go flying, KNOCKED THE EARRINGS OUT OF MY EARS, total mess. I get up and the parking lot was a warzone. My buddy I was with lost a shoe and his shirt was torn from collar to the bottom.
Great times.
It was August 2007 and Coalesce had decided that they would remain a band. They played a Knights of Columbus Hall in the Chicago suburban area. There was no stage or lighting rig. Just equipment, the band, and kids. Daughters played right before Coalesce and the former band's singer, who was no doubt in a beer-soaked haze, had just licked the entire hand, wrist to fingertips, of a girl who could be no older than 16. Odd and seemingly illegal, indeed!
Coalesce finally came on and I was headbanging and screaming while standing somewhere in between bassist Nathan Ellis and vocalist Sean Ingram, at times being bounced between the two. Several times during the set, Sean fell into the crowd and we had to help him up (turns out he likes drinking straight-up Jack while he plays). They closed the set with "You Can't Kill Us All" and as Sean starts off the song with, "What more do you want from me?" the entire room lunged forward to scream back into Sean's face. Suddenly, the distinction between band and audience was no more and dozens of kids were jam-packed into Coalesce's personal space, creating a feedback loop of shared energy. We trampled some of their effects pedals in the process. Oops. It was one of the best sing-alongs of my life.
These are some amazing stories. Thanks for sharing.
her husband shattered his right ankle crowd surfing in a GWAR pit
There are so many things wrong about that sentence.
Damn thraxil, I was at that Augusta Pantera show. Pretty typical for Maine shows, I hate to say it. I played drums in a hardcore band at the time, and no matter how small the show, we always managed to get a bunch of stupid rednecks there. It was annoying, but at least you could count on it being an interesting night.
The fact that he sustained an injury at a Gwar show, or a prose thing? I'll admit that the sentence is clunky, but it was early and I didn't feel like spending a lot of time dicking with it.
Anthony – Yes, the content of the sentence, not its construction, which was better than this one. Husbands should not be out breaking ankles while crowdsurfing at GWAR shows.
This idea of moshing as "punching people" is most unfortunate.
Well, he was a young guy.
I've never seen anybody get punched at a show, even in situations where there seemed to be a legitimate grievance between parties. I hope I never do.
Pageninetynine opening for the Baltimore stop of Eyehategod's tour at Fletchers. This was 99 or 00, after EHG had broken up then got back together. Anyways, i get there, and i believe first band is setting up…tons of people on stage, tons of amps, they're trying to make room on the sides and wherever. I'm thinking half the guys are roadies when i hear 1-2-3-4 and not one but TWO singers jump off stage just swinging around and the entire floor erupts. I'm getting kicked and thrown and my big 200lb + ass is actually levitating in a half ass crowd surf. I manage to run to the back of the club like a total loser because it instinctively seems like GG Allin chaos or something lol…when i finally get my stance and can breathe, i see there's like 10 or 12 guys IN THE BAND and half of them are on the floor and half the amps are on now on the floor too, one or two people i remember were actually crawling from underneath a half stack or so…i mean crazy. The songs, when i get to focus, have these eerie melodic passages before erupting back into punk or grind. I ask a friend "who the fuck was that" when they're done, and he tells me "that sir, was pageninetynine…you didn't know?"…Saw them pretty much every balto show after that (except the last one in DC argh)…still one of my top 10 bands of all time easily.
I saw Slayer and Sick of It All a while back. I was up front stage left. Thinks were pretty calm for SOIA but Slayer came out and chaos erupted. One kid was crowd surfing and a monster of a person just picked this kid up and threw him towards the stage. The kid had no hair and I could hear his head hit part of the stage (while Slayer was playing). He stood up and had a HUGE bleeding gash in his head. Then the theater was oversold and the pit was full of people that it was swaying back and forth and myself and many others were being shoved out the side exits. This went back and forth for about half an hour. The bouncers kept yelling at us as if we were jumping out the side doors on purpose. It was probably the first time I was ever actually scared at a show.
I got slammed at diturbed chicago 2009 northernly pavillion island
Watching Slayer for the first time on the Divine Intervention tour (Jan 95). I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet and was still pretty skinny. They opened with Raining Blood and had the house lights synchronized with the drum rolls when the song finally started the floor erupted and didn't stop until they finished their set. It was pretty awesome and everyone was really friendly but aggressive at the same time. These days I point and laugh at the kids doing the ninja deathmaster kicks and punches.
Rollins band, 19????
Diehard Rollins fan. I was with a group of guys who were all over 6 feet and probably 250+ pounds who declined to head to the front. I stupidly said, 'fuck them' and proceeded to wade into the pit – being the only (stupid) woman to do so. But back then, Rollins was mad hot.
I was sober enough to miss many of the people who decided to dive off the stage but eventually, I must have gotten kicked in the head about four times (Steel-toed boots and Doc's were all the rage in the grunge days). With a shaved head, it proably wan't the best situation to be in.
Luckily for me, the security guards were really nice and being all black dudes around my age, started yelling at me, 'all right, sista?' I declined their concerned looks (in hindsight they were probably thinking 'that bitch is crazy') and eventually my friends dragged me out.
I saw stars for about three days, lost my hearing for a couple but man, that was a trip.
Second story: I was at an outdoor festival many years later – i can't even remember who was playing but I was standing too close to the pit and witnessed a group of skinheads get together and prepare to go after this very young Latino boy, who was foolish enough to push himself up to the front, get on stage and dive headfirst too close to them – too many times.
I poked my friend and when the kid proceeded to push back the group of skinheads, I grabbed him and said, 'get the fuck out of here before you get the shit kicked out of you.' He looked at us and we pointed at the Skinheads, who were all glaring at us. He said thanks and started running off in the opposite direction. We decided that it was also time to go.
Ahh, the good ol' days.
IO: Where did you go to college?
I got punched in the neck at a Slayer show once, but nothing as extreme as previous commenters have said has happened to me…so far.
Mr. Bungle, circa 1991(2?) – the Marquee, NYC. Pure insanity. As soon as the first bouncy notes started to play, people started to violently mosh and pogo at the same time. Within seconds, someone dumped a 55 gallon trash can full of water (i hope it was water) over the balcony onto the floor, leading to slippery mosh insanity. Barely anyone could stay on their feet.
This was when the band was still using false identies, wearing the masks, and routinely spiking beer cans and smashing them into the audience.
Pretty brilliant mosh memory.
There are a few comments about positive pit experiences. The most personal of my posi-pit stories is my sense of amazement and joyfulness at buying a white MOD t-shirt, putting it on and then (enough snickering, I am personally embarrassed enough by publicly acknowledging ownership of a MOD "Hate Tank" T-shirt) getting it turned gray by the end of the evening in the pit by transferring the little black fuzzy t-shirt balls from everybody else's black t-shirt. This happened in the late 1980's at probably a Exodus and MOD show in Columbus at the Newport. I turned a t-shirt gray! (polite applause please) Although I have plenty of the bad stories, there is no blood, broken glasses, round-house kicks and skull fractures in my positive, yet lame story, At 40, I am no longer creating new pit stories, I have become the lame guy that stands in the back and drinks beer while telling the young ones about the good old days.
Wow. Wow. Just wow. What the hell happened?
Suffo, summer sluaghter in nyc this year. I was just standing on the left rim of the usual pit area, and the second they hit the first note i get fucking blasted in the side of the head, never saw who did it.
Man, these stories are scary…
Now that I'm of a respectable age, I don't go to the front anymore, I stay back where the crowd moves but you still watch the musicanship. But I used to get up there, and I never saw anybody use the pit as an opportunity to simply smash somebody…
Is this a recent thing, or is it a localised phenomenon in specific places?
In '92 or '93, some friends and I went to the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ to see then-popular local band Nudeswirl open for White Zombie. While waiting for the first band to begin, Rage Against The Machine played over the PA. This sent a quarter of the audience into a mosh frenzy. My glasses were thrown into the oblivion of arms, backs, fists and long hair. My younger brother, swallowed somewhere in the vortex of the pit, was knocked unconscious. I reiterate: all of this occurred while no band was actually playing.
1989 – River Rock Cafe in Buffalo,some Cannibal Corpse show, watching the opening band. I'm up front because at 5'3", I can't see anything if I'm not right up there. I'm raging, getting pounded by the people behind me… and then, WHAM! The guitarist smashes me in the forehead with the headstock of his white flying V. Saw stars, got nauseous, but kept raging.
1992 – Mercyful Fate show. In the pit, about 15 feet from the stage. These big guys are grumbling behind me and I hear one of them say, "When the show starts, this has got to go." Found out two seconds in to the first song that the "this" was me. One of them grabbed me by the hair and hauled me off my feet; slammed me to the floor. Rang my bell good and I didn't go to a show for almost 6 years.
2007 – Watain and Angelcorpse at The Brass Mug in Tampa, FL. Some 500 lb douchebag in a periwinkle blue collared shirt decides it will be funny to clothesline the 10 people in front of the stage. He takes out my 6'2" husband, Helmkamp's then-wife, five or six other people and roundhouses me right in the jaw. I have TMJ and my left jaw joint is almost totally compromised so instead of shattering, it dislocates, hangs loose for five seconds then snaps back into place as I'n staggering to keep my balance. We were all thankful that fat slob expended his energy with that one burst because he fucked off after that. Then Watain played and it was fucking awesome!
Saw Pantera in Sydney in 2001 (I think) with COC. It was one of my little brothers first gigs he'd been to, and he was pumped up. COC never really been huge down under, so things were pretty reserved, but as soon as Pantera walked on the place exploded. At some point the whole pit surged backwards, and I blindly put my foot down on someone else's foot behind me, and down I went. Next things there's some skinny fucker jumping around me, give me a few sly kicks in the head, and then I was lifted above it all somehow. Some huge Samoan dude had just grabbed me by the shirt, lifted me up onto my feet (and i was around 150 kg at the time, I'm guessing that's around 300+ pound?)and said "You okay bro?". Spent the rest of the gig up the back, my brother emerged later to tell me all about this big dude he'd icked in the pit, little fucker.
Also notable was Terror at the Cambridge Hotel in Newcastle a couple of years back. People were just destroying themselves, a couple of dudes were circle pitting straight into the huge concrete pilllars holding the place up. Was quite funny.
When I was 15, I once (accidentally*) kicked this tall motherfucker in the face! He was, to put it lightly, a notorious asshole. I've retired from those days looooong ago, but remembering that moment is pretty heroic. At the time, it sucked. I may or may not have been stage diving. I honestly don't remember. But, I'll never forget the horror I faced when realizing exactly who got a taste of my shoe.
Cool, I had no idea that you dug the Rev too! There was something so totally pure in the earlier days of the Rev, where you'd get punks, greasers and metalheads out.
The best moshpit story that I have, I think, is where the Melvins played here and played "Smells Like Teen Spirit", where this large dude did the the vocals and then all of us moved out of the way in fear of being squashed. Not really technically a moshpit story, but pretty funny all around.
….I forgot to say that he stagedived….
I have many mosh stories but speaking of the ol' reverend (whom I have seen quite alot myself) I remember one particular occasion I saw him in santa cruz. It was myself and 6 other friends, it was one of my friends' birthday. Well, during the show I was up front with said friends and there was a quite large woman who kept bumping into us, and after awhile our drunken manchildren began to take over. We began to tug at this woman's hair on occasion, and then turn around and act like nothing happened. At about the fourth tug, she whipped around and grabbed me (I was the closest) and got me in a headlock and began to shake me like I was a rag doll. It must have been quite a scene, my friends laughing hysterically at my predicament, and her flinging me around the dance floor, lightly punching my ribs and back. Hell, I was laughing myself at this point, and she then proceeded to throw me WWF style practically across the small club, upon which I got up, stumbled to the bar, and bought this woman a drink. I made my way back to the front, tapped her on the shoulder gently, and offered her the drink. She looked at me, laughed, took the drink and smiled the biggest smile I ever saw….and then proceeded to grab me in another headlock.
These are "sort of" moshpit stories (well, not really). When I was a kid, I went to a lot of shows at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago near Wrigley Field. Wrigleyville is filled with all sorts of bars, people pissing in alleys and throwing up on people's lawns after ballgames. Some of this goes on while you're standing in line a few blocks down the street at the Metro. Drunks are mercilessly harassed by concertgoers, and you would occasionally see a person flipped out on Angel Dust. People would flick their cigarette butts at them.
Once, some promoter in Chicago had the brilliant idea of scheduling a wrestling match between the bands at a Raven/ Tank show at the Aragon Ballroom. The crowd mostly stood around the ring shouting "Bullshit! Bullshit!" in unison…
If you're referring to the Rev. show at the abyss during college (I think we saw them 2 or 3 times during those years), the primary thing I remember about that show is that it was about 110 degrees and super-humid in that club. I think the rev. even took a mid-set break so the crowd and the band could get some liquids. During the break, he told those of us who remained at the front of the stage a story about when he passed out in a hotel room with the shower running, and the room got so steamy that the tv exploded when he turned it on later. Good times. Incidentally, the area around the abyss which used to be so shady is now super yuppie-ized with sushi restaurants and valet parking aplenty. Go figure.
Man, these stories would make for a wicked book. C's story is the craziest – moshing to between-bands music, geez. Skullgal's Mercyful Fate story is the most disturbing. I thought men were *glad* to see women at metal shows.
Andy – Rice U.
ReallyGood – An MOD "Hate Tank" shirt should be a source of pride.
Anon – Your Rev. story was mind-boggling and hilarious.
Greg – Houston has valet-parking??? The city is practically one giant parking lot.
Sounds of the Underground, The Black Dahlia Murder, 2006: The show was in Chicago at the old Tinley Park amphitheatre (Midwest Bank Amphitheatre now…) on what seemed like one of the hottest days of the year. Not a single cloud in the sky and the show, rather than being held in the theatre itself was instead held in the parking lot off to the side. Blazing sun and asphalt a match does not make, so needless to say it was hot as fuck by the time TBDM took the stage. Trevor was in fine form and whipped the tired crowd into a frenzy. By the time they reached the midpoint of their abbreviated set, I was sweating balls despite being doused with water by several kids who were trying to drench the pit with buckets of the stuff. The band closed with 'A Vulgar Picture' and 'Statutory Ape'. By that time, the pit had thinned out considerably, leaving just the diehards to run headlong into one another. This one skinny kid who had been in for most of the entire day was just kind of being bounced about but wouldn't leave. He bounced off me, kinda stumbled towards the center of the pit and lost his lunch in epic, cascade fashion; it looked something akin to a puke geyser, with the head up and the sloppy stuff hitting the ground in a straight line facing the stage. He's down immediately after and a few of the less squeamish amongst us dragged him off. I laughed for hours afterwards.
My first pit was at a DRI/Uncle Slam show…I don't remember the year. It was right after the Metallica AJFA tour. All I know is that I was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and as soon as US started those were both gone, forever. I was on the floor, face up, looking at old DRI punks with razor blades sewn into their jackets. Ah, the good old days. My beer was gone, etc. I was not prepared.
It's hard to pick just one, but I'd never feel I had fulfilled my duties to the metal community if I didn't tell the story of King at Dirtfest 2009. Most of you don't know who King is, and that's understandable. They're a hardcore band from Flint, MI and SHIT are they pissed off about… something! They start the show and the singer tries to knock the tent over his stage down. Unsuccessful, he faceplants onto parking lot from about 8 feet in the air. Bloody and berzerk, the band thrash on. Between songs, the singer begins throwing WATERMELONS at the crowd. Kids go wild destroying te big green fruit and throwing watermelon bits everywhere. Somewhere in all this, a smoke grenade is thrown into the moshpit and you can't really see anything but thick, orange smoke everywhere. That's when the fireworks start. Yes, fireworks. Shot. At everything. The band, the fans, the cops, venue security… everyone is getting shot with roman candles and bottle rockets. Cops come in to stop this, and get dragged into the violence. One way, you see a guy getting stomped on by 3 cops, the other way, you see 5 punks gangbeating two officers. A full-scale RIOT has erupted at Dirtfest because of this band whom nobody outside of the mitten has EVER heard of. There are videos of the whole thing on their myspace (king810) if you're interested.
Download Festival 2007.
I was wandering around in the afternoon and some kid asked me where the signing tent was. Nice guy. I showed him the way.
Later that evening, Korn were headlining the second stage while My Chemical Romance were headlining the main stage. Stupid idea. Either way, I'd been in the second stage tent for the previous 2 bands to get a good spot for Korn as I knew it was gonna be packed.
It wasn't just packed. It was rammed. There was nowhere to go to and people were spilling out of the tent. This place wasn't small either. Korn should have been playing the main stage, no question about it.
When they started playing it really kicked off. Because everyone was so tightly packed you couldn't really mosh. People just swayed about and lost their footing. Pretty much anyone who fell over was in for a trampling because no-one could do anything about it.
About 5 songs into the set and the kid I gave directions to earlier in the day was being carried out of the tent by 2 guards in front of me. He wasn't moving and his eyes were glazed. Christ knows what happened to him.
Shortly after my shoelace came undone and the last thing I wanted was to fall and suffer the same fate so I got out of there.
As I'm walking out of the tent, some girl is sitting on the ground in hysterics with tears down her face. Not one mother fucker has bother to check what's wrong. I go up to her and ask her if she's been trampled and she nods. I grab someone as they walk past to see if they can get a guard or someone in charge to get this girl some medical attention.
Half an hour later some doctors finally show up and take her away. All this time I'm rubbing the girls back and she desperately tries to catch her breath whilst violently coughing.
That was a pretty grim moshpit experience.
I have two funny mosh stories. One at a Trivium concert at a relatively small venue and the other at a Lamb of God concert at Sydney’s luna park big top.
At trivium, me and my mate went to the bar to see if we could get some water (they had an over 18’s section at the back but part of the bar faced the pit) and they gave us a few plastic jugs of water. i drank my fill and headed back into the pit but my mate took one of the jugs back with him. he then proceeded to lob the jug over his head from one side of the pit to the other, it bounced off the guy in front of me and smacked me square in the face.
at LOG, one of the warm ups was Devil Driver, and we were kicking it in a huge speed run pit (cyclone pit, whatever you call it… one big circle with people running around in a whirlpool type fashion). While we were running the laces on one of my steel toe boots snapped and the shoe flew off. I kept running and picked it back up when i came round on the next lap
had trouble keeping it on for the rest of the night tho as it was missing the lace.
oh and one more, at trivium again but this time at soundwave 2010, me and my 3 buddies owned one of the circle pits after we formed a scrum and mowed down 3 huge hardcore idiots who were throwing punches at anyone who came near them… for the last song of their set we were just bouncing around our own little empty circle pit.
Mike X – You Aussies are crazy!
I just saw Slayer for my fourth time beneath the glorious full moon at Luna Park, with two maddog homies. Also, some girl tried to fight me in the Slayer pit. I have been in way gnarlier pits with way more demonic people, and I’m a skinny woman – but I can always hold my own. Besides, there is always a spirit of camaraderie, never intentional fisticuffs.
There was no way she was ever gonna get the better of me though, mainly because a) I was tripping along peacefully in my Nexus the whole time (you can’t kill what doesn’t live) and b) she was wearing makeup to a Slayer concert.
I had been watching demon faces scream at me from the cliffs of Milsons Point for hours beforehand, so there was no way her pretty little girl face could put the fear of Satan into me. Yet, she fought nobly.
Never once have I had any cunt constantly try and punch me in the face for such an extended period of time. She got me once on my bad lip – the one that once had to have twenty-two stitches to sew it back onto my face. But she couldn’t even split that sensitive spot. What a cat!
Then she kept grabbing my hair, and that’s when I truly understood that this was gonna be an unfair fight. She kept trying to drag me down to the ground – and it was a fucken smart move on her part, as I’m TOTALLY unfamiliar with wrestling moves and ALWAYS lose those ones.
Look, I love a blue as much as the next person, but there’s a time and a place. I’m not an aggressively violent person anymore but I can’t back down if someone wants to have a lash, and just won’t let up. I just wanted to thrash in the circle pit at Slayer, not punch on. Besides, I didn’t want to hit her because everyone knows the calmest person in the fight always lords. And safety first, right?
Anyways, for some reason I was the one being held back, even though I kept telling her boyfriend to get her away. But she kept coming so I did what even the most peace-loving person would do – I split her nose from arsehole to breakfast time. I saw her on the train later on. I don’t think she’ll be going into work for a few days.
I hope the golly tasted nice and salty, and I hope it felt delicious sliding down her open screaming throat. Just remember kids – you’ll never get the better of any person tripping balls peacefully in a Slayer pit.