(Scene: The Narcotics Anonymous group and their moderator wait outside the concert for tickets to the show.)

Al: Alcohol
Mary Jane: Marijuana, you dumbass
Harry: Heroin
Coco: Cocaine
Les D.: LSD
Crystal: Crystal Methamphetamine
X: Ecstasy
Cracker: Crack Cocaine
Val: Valium

MODERATOR: Now that we have some quiet time before the music starts, would anybody like to say anything?

Phish rainbow logoCOCO: Holy shit we’ve been in this line, for what, for-fucking-ever! It’s not moving. I’m so fucking bored!

VAL: Really? I hadn’t noticed. I’m kind of cool just chilling here. Or going inside. Doesn’t really matter. I guess. You know?

MODERATOR: Now now, waiting can be its own reward. In and of itself.

LES D.: I’ve heard some fucked up shit, but what the hell is this paper making blood turtles about?

MODERATOR: Now now, let’s all just keep on the sober tracks and relax.

MARY JANE: It’s about time. Let’s get high.

AL: I really need a drink.

X: In a few minutes my spine is going to explode.

MODERATOR: I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at your addictions. (In a squeakier voice.) Hey you, addictions, it’s time to settle down and let your host go free. That’s right, your craving is just a parasite.

MARY JANE: Your mom’s the parasite.

COCO: Oh snap!

AL: Screw you cocksuckers. I’m slipping the security guy five bucks and going inside.

(The rest of the Narc Anons follow him.)

MODERATOR: HEY!

(Scene: The gang is inside the hall now. The concert is about to start. Al is talking to a couple of dudes wearing band t-shirts.)

COCO: I would totally suck two cocks for two lines. Who the fuck is holding? Do you think I’m too pretty to be considered a slut?AL: Look, all I’m, uh, saying is…. who fucking cares if you’re so drunk you don’t remember the show? It’s going to suck anyway. You might as well have a good time listening to shitty music. You can throw stuff at the singer. Drink up, fools.

MARY JANE (stumbling into the conversation): Or, you could not remember the concert and have a totally rad time. I can make shitty music sound awesome.

AL: Yeah, then you buy the CD from the merch stand and find out how shitty the music is when you’re in your car tomorrow. Stick with me, and when you need to pee, you can whiz all over some hippies.

MARY JANE: Or you could appreciate music like you’ve been deaf your entire life and this is the first thing you’ve ever heard.

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AL: Oh my God I hope you choke to death on the string you self-righteous, patchouli-stained poncho. I’m going to talk to those skanks talking to X.

(X is talking to skanks. Al comes in to listen for a while.)

X: All I’m say is, you’ve heard everyone has a soulmate. Well, how would you like one of these half-naked dudes to be your soulmate? Or one of the girls? Or everybody here can be your special someone. You can feel nothing but love for six hours. Actually, you can feel everything and love and more at the same time.

AL: I can make you do that too. With me, you can show your tits to the band and everybody else. Your friends will think you’re so cool.

X: I’m not talking about that. I’m not even talking about a love connection. I’m talking about a love explosion.

AL: Flash your cans enough, and I can get guys to explode love all over you. It will totally rock.

X: Ladies, look. I can make going to the bathroom the most pleasant experience.

AL: So can I. I can even relax you enough to fart in front of your boyfriend.

(Coco walks in.)

COCO: Did somebody say something? You going to the bathroom? I could use a pick-me up. Quick. Who’s holding? Don’t skeeze out on me you cheap assholes. I feel like I need The Who tickets. Were you talking about me? Oh my God. I would totally suck two cocks for two lines. Ten cocks for ten lines. Who the fuck is holding? Do you think I’m too pretty to be considered a slut?

AL: And now it’s time for me to go up to the balcony, make out with something and then barf off the ledge.

(Al leaves and Coco scampers off, but Les D. comes in.)

X: What would you say if every person you hugged felt like an orgasm? Well, how great do you think your orgasms would be? Les, what do you want?

LES D.: Pizza.

X: Wow. That’s as creative as you’re going to get? I knew you were a one-trick pony.

LES D.: No. You ever think of it? Taco Pizza. It’s like all the Mexicans, Puerto Ricans and Italians are finally getting along, after years of infighting between the Seltzer Water Lords of Fancytown. And you know, don’t get me started on the bullshit about plastic cups. I’ve seen through the conspiracy, and…. Holy fucking mother of Judas Priest. Look at that bitchin’ light show! Gnarlyyyyyy.

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X: That’s just Mary Jane sparking a joint.

LES D.: But this music, it’s like combing my hair. When it’s wet.

X: You’ve pretty much burned out all the creative neurons, haven’t you?

LES D.: Wet with the blood of the spirals who didn’t believe in the falsity of Mickey Mouse. MICKEY ISN’T REAL! YOU FUCKING COWARDS! MICE CAN’T REALLY TALK TO YOU!

X: Do you see what I’m saying? With ecstasy, you never have a bad trip. Like this idiot, foaming at the mouth and getting a beating by security.

(Val walks in.)

VAL: Yeah, instead of a bad trip, you come to the realization that your Prince Charming is really just some middle school shop teacher with a Viagra-fueled boner ramming you in your butt butt in the back dumpster area of an interstate rest stop while you find your hands covered in Waffle House syrup. And the once-pleasant love grumble you thought you were listening to turns out to be the other three fellas that took advantage of the fact you thought four dicks in you at all times seemed like the greatest experience your mind could possibly conjure up.

(The two skanks stare open mouthed at Val, then to X, and back to Val.)

VAL: But what the fuck do I know? I have a good enough time just vacuuming while my kids complain about algebra homework. Or something.

(Moderator walks in with Crystal.)

MODERATOR: Don’t tell me a lie, that you’re not high! I’m very disappointed in your lack of will power. And your addictions.

CRYSTAL: Sorry I’m late, I worked a double at the Cracker Barrel.

MODERATOR: Now don’t you feel jealous of Crystal. She just put in a 16-hour workday. I’m proud of her.

CRYSTAL: Sixteen hours? Sixteen hours? No. Not at all. Not at all you stupid fucking whore with all your teeth! I pulled a double-week shift. That’s THREE HUNDRED and thirty-SIX hours! Fuck you! I’m too good for this shit.

VAL: Because nothing says recreational drugs like, um, working.

CRYSTAL: Get off my case! I have to take apart my neighbor’s motorcycle so I can sniff the gas. Hey, Moderator! Don’t look up.

MODERATOR: Now why not? If we can’t look up, we can never look down on those that we’re better than.

(Moderator looks up and gets covered in the waterfall of vomit coming from Al’s mouth.)

VAL: Wow. Sucks. If, you know, you care about that kind of thing.

END

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