<Mr Boogieman has not been seen since the early hours of Sunday morning, where he was last spotted being hoisted at head height by a heaving herd of unruly teenagers in the basement of the Houston live music venue Fitzgerald’s, before going under for the third time. The following was transcribed from a recording retrieved from the memory files of a shattered chunk of glass and metal we believe may once have been his phone. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please get in touch with the board of directors at firstname.lastname@example.org>
“HELLO?! HELLO?!?? Can anyone hear me?? Oh god. I can’t move, HELLO?! It’s no use, no-one can hear me. No-one wants to hear me, those bastards. Hell, I can’t even hear myself, I can’t hear anything! Siri, are you getting all this?? Siri, you have to tell the world what went on here, do you understand me Siri?!?
— I’m not sure I understand
Oh Siri, how could you understand?? You are merely an algorithm. A series of computerized subroutines designed to perform rote tasks quickly and efficiently. How could you understand the pleasures of noise, alcohol and pain, oh god, so much pain.
— I eschew theological disquisition.
I tell you Siri, it started innocently enough. Auntie Pesto wanted Dr Socktopus and I to come over for a quiet drink. “Just an iced wine spritzer!” he said, “You’ll be back under the Moist Graffiti overpass by 9pm” he said. Well, I don’t have to tell you how that one turned out. No sooner had the first few bottle of wine been drained than Dr Sox began to yell “RELEASE THE KRAKEN”
— OK, i found this on the web
Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Dr S. on the brown stuff, but believe me it has a tighter hold on him than Rolf Harris on <this part is… unclear on the tapes – Moist Graffiti lawyer> two-handed <um, this bit too…> with a didgeridoo! So before long Auntie P had us nicely soused and ready to do whatever his nefarious plans required. It was at this point he suggested that we go see FIDLAR….ooooo, oh no…Siri, is that my spleen over there? Urg….
— Let me have a look…
Being the highly educated and civilized sort, I assumed that AP was referring to the popular musical theater production, “The Fiddler on the Roof”. Additionally, being a large, anthropomorphized chunk of breaded pork product I had never felt entirely welcome in the midst of celebration of Jewish life and customs, so I was keen to check it out in a venue that Pesto assured me would be warm and welcoming.
— I’m really sorry about this, but I can’t take any requests right now. Please try again in a little while.
He certainly wasn’t wrong! Although I found it suspicious that a Broadway musical wasn’t playing in one of the major theaters downtown, I said nothing as we rolled up to Fitzgerald’s, a large music hall in a sketchy corner of H-town. The people inside were indeed warm. And tightly packed. And holding tallboys of PBR instead of the champagne flutes I was expecting. Auntie Pesto led us deep into the the crowd of sweaty teenagers and bearded skate store employees. “Here, this is where you’ll have the best view” he said. Suddenly the crowd erupted into loud cheers, and 4 malnourished, hard living gutter punks took the stage. I turned round to see Auntie P’s back disappearing from view through the madding crowd.
Without warning a colossal drum rhythm started, accompanied by an anguished yell and a guitar squall . I turned to Dr Socktopus, “Something doesn’t seem quite right…” I started to say, but the first crowd surge hit me and I slammed into the ground. Helping hands pulled me up, and before I could plant myself another wave converged on me from both sides. My earplugs popped out, lost forever. I saw Dr Soxs’ tentacles flailing away to my right as the seething mass of humanity washed over him. The pain reverberated through my body like a fifth instrument. Blood seeped from my damaged ear drums. Oh Siri, just thinking about it turns my saccules to jelly and my utricles to dust!
— I don’t know where you are, but you can show me.
But as I swayed there with the crowd, I felt a strange peace come over me. Between the pounding rhythms and pounding elbows and saturating sweat and stifling hear and rain of beers I found a transcendence, a happy place. I began to feel at one with my compatriots, one mind and one body. In fact, we were squeezed in so tightly, we might well have shared the physical space at some point, Higgs boson be damned! These people were beautiful! This noise was beautiful!! The world was amazing!!! I turned around to tell them that I understood, that we were all in this together and instinctively the crowd picked me up! I rode on top of their shoulders! They carried me aloft like Moses returning from the mountain! These were my people, and I was their high priest!! It was amazing I tell you Siri, amazing!!!
— Who, me?
And then, just as I felt I was about to lead them to the promised land, the music stopped and the crowd opened up and swallowed me whole. I hit the floor with a splat, possibly rupturing what was left of my liver. I think I even lost my Fitbit at this point. And then, the second song started up. I curled up into a ball and proceeded to have an entire MLS-games worth of enthusiastic charging around and bloodcurdling physical violence visited upon my precious, breaded body. I crawled into the space between the stage and the floor and passed out. When I awoke , the band was gone, my people were gone, and all that was left behind was the stench of adolescent sweat, stale piss and spilled beer. Oh how I miss them Siri! I’ve determined I will hit the road and follow this cult on to their next venue. Say goodbye to my loved ones Siri, tell them I have found a happier place!!
— To whom should I send your message? I need a name, phone number or email address
— Ok Schnitzel, see you soon!”
Moist Graffiti Rating
Venue: Fitzgerald’s Houston. Amazing Place: 99.45
Audience: Teenagers and hipsters mixed together in an awesome, friendly, moshing wave: 97.55
Songs: I have no idea. But in a good way: 85.66
Band: Surprisingly professional. Their chops belie their DGAF slacker image: 91.13
Crowd surfing for the first time ever!!: +6
Losing my fitbit: -1
Feeling pain throughout my entire body for a week afterwards: -2
Feeling pain throughout my entire body for a week afterwards: +2