Hobson told me about it first, when I first moved into the neighborhood, acted like I would never get invited.
I was a baseball kid, it was a hockey neighborhood, weird thing to start off at a disadvantage about.
Turned out it didn’t matter. I could play drums a little bit, and Schecter’s band needed a drummer.
Turned out Schecter’s band was all in his head, but we made one happen.
Schecter’s older brother brought us to Ted’s garage.
Ted made this booze in an old Ford Ranger motor he converted to a still.
The booze was supposed to make you smarter.
No shit, that’s what they used to say in Turklin Heights.
The booze was bitter as fuck. You only got a little, but if you didn’t finish it you never got invited back. That’s what Hobson said, anyway.
They said if you showed up uninvited, Ted would let his dog out and the dog, an old Weimaraner with a limp, would puke on your shoes.
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