Sex, Drugs, And Bubblegum Pop, is our most outlandish column to date. Written by Mr. Jayce, vocalist for Secret Secret Dino Club and all-round funny guy, this column isn’t as much about the music as it is the experiences people in the music industry have.

WARNING: This column does and will continue to contain content some readers may find offensive. If you don’t have a sense of humor, this column is probably not for you.

Vampires
By: Mr. Jayce

“Thanks for the memories” -Pete Wentz’s old local band

I used to be crazy. Or at least crazier than I am now. I would tour completely alone in my 1994 white Plymouth Acclaim filled with handmade/shoplifted merch, my guitar, and a floor completely covered in mapquest directions. I was too broke for GPS technology y’all.

After a while, the wear and tear of the lonesome open road took a toll on this budding young professional. There is one memory that has forever been stamped in time as “the moment I stopped touring alone.” I had just played shows with xlifexruinerx and “The Friday Night Boys” back to back. One was much more frightening than the other. At this point in my career, I had stayed in 0 hotels during my touring stint. A few reasons for that, but mainly because it was easy to find places to stay being just one dude. The night before I had scored a house of 3 cheerleaders who wanted to stay up all night and watch TV Land.

This night wasn’t quite as cute. I called a friend of mine who lived in the area to try to stay the night, but she was at college. She did however pointed me in the direction of one of her friends that lived in the area. I called her because this was the pre-texting era, and she seemed nice. I wrote directions to her house on a bands demo someone thought was a good idea to give me.

At about 2am I pull up and knock on the door, pretty exhausted. A somewhat ogrely looking creature answers the door. I tell her that I was real tired and almost passed out on the drive. She points at a room and within 5 minutes I’m asleep. I awake about 15 minutes later to the sound of my door opening.

In walks a completely naked host who climbs under the blanket and into the bed next to me. I keep pretending to be asleep and let off a number of badly faked snoring noises. She was not buying it and began caressing me and kissing weird parts of my body, like my shoulders and fingers. I keep trying to move away and hide my body but there is no where to go. Especially when I was still poorly trying to pretend I was asleep. Eventually she starts slapping my face to attempt to wake me up. I try to plea with her that I’m really tired and I need to go to sleep, but she keeps going at it. Gotta admire the tenacity I suppose.

At this point I’m face down in my pillow with my legs crossed and my hands covering my genitals. It didn’t prove to be enough for this relentless beast who was a decent amount larger than I was. She flips me over and straddles my stomach and yells “Fuck me right now!” while holding my shirt like a grade school bully. I continue to try to be nice and go with the “I’m tired” routine but she was over that.

She was now auto-manipulating herself while straddling me. This got her so excited that she attempted to rip my pants off, but I continue to fight to keep them on, mainly with an action from my hips that cannot be described through writing. Eventually she wins by breaking the button of my fly off and she starts searching for my penis like she’s digging for a fossil or some buried treasure. Once she finds my flaccid penis I attempt to push her off of it, but I’m afraid to start and kind of interaction that she may mistake for me wanting her near. This whole time she has been talking to my penis like I imagine a very angry drunk guy playing deer hunter in the bar would speak. Very determined, but mostly scary.

With my mostly soft penis in her mouth, I had never felt so violated. Eventually it did what a penis does, but in a very weird and forced manner. When the job had been completed, she calmly left the room without saying a word. I snuck out of the house about 45 minutes later and slept in my car in an Ihop parking lot.

Perhaps she was some sort of semen vampire? I hope she got what she needed for survival. I guess some girls just know what they want. From there on out, I never went to any shows by on my own, and never stayed at any stranger’ house alone ever again.

Mr. Jayce

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James Shotwell

James Shotwell is the founder of Under The Gun Review. He loves writing about music and movies almost as much as he loves his two fat cats. He's also the co-founder of Antique Records and the Marketing Coordinator for Haulix. You should probably follow him on Twitter.

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