"Headlining"

Fred and I snagged Skull Fracture a basement show with Uncouth Youth and Herb Bermann’s Side Project. We were scheduled to go on third, which in our heads made us feel like we were the headlining band, but there was a noise complaint and the cops shut us down. My mom tried to talk the cops into letting us play our set and almost got arrested. Finally, the fuzz left, and as we were loading up our gear, my mom came flying out of the house with a toaster, chucked it on the lawn, and said, “We better get outa here!” Our first gig.

"There Are Only Five Great Men in the World and Three of Them Are Hamburgers"

"You know, when someone holds the door for someone else, they usually say 'thank you.'" "Exactly! Usually."

"A Decision Has Been Made"

Skull Fracture just isn’t the name of a doo-wop band. It’s that simple.

"Skull Fracture Update"

The only thing “messed-up” about my mom’s Halloween song is how bad it is. After hearing it, Fred panicked and suggested we become a doo-wop group. I slapped him and told him we’d think about it.

"My New Musical Venture"

My mom and I have started a thrash metal band called Skull Fracture. Now it’s a little known fact that Candy Farful is an accomplished harpist, and thanks to a fairly recent mid-life crisis, a force to be reckoned with on the drums. I’m on guitar and vocals and my twelve-year-old neighbor, Fred, is on bass; he’s only been playing for six months, but he’s got the right attitude. My mom got drunk this past weekend and wrote our first song, “Live Fast and Die Stupid.” It’s good. She plans on getting trashed again this weekend and writing something quote “messed-up” about Halloween. Rock on, mom!

"Diary of an Angry, Misunderstood Fifteen-Year-Old"

Rebecca broke up with me. I'm failing math. All I have are my Metallica records. I listen to "Fade to Black" as it rains in my soul.

"The Prowl?"

This past Friday, my mother had a dinner party. I came home from work all haggard and joined right in. This one guy asked me where I worked. I told ‘em. He asked me if I liked it. I told him it sucks. Then he asked me how the ladies were treating me. It was awkward and I got bored trying to think of a funny answer, so I said “Not well enough” and felt like an idiot. “You’re on the prowl,” he said. “I’m really just lonely and desperate. Or is that ‘the prowl’?”