The Journey of Randy Spacemachine and Luger Axehandle :: Part 1

We found ourselves in the Nexus of the Zombies, Friday night, free booze and energy drinks, stale smells and judging by the what appears to be glue on the floor, there is evidence of excessive and illicive drug use. The zombies were enjoying themselves and dancing wildly to the music which would have been impossible without the synergistic effects of multiple drugs eating their way through their brains. The zombies were consuming their own brains. What seemed like a turrets-ridden DJ was barking out a strange command: “make some noise” and even stranger was the way the audience was reacting. Mostly confused. One couple was administering some sort of tribal neck dance which involved twisting of the lower torso, sitting on the face and before I could find out what happens next the act was broken up by a Mexican security guard with a flashlight.

Everyone was slobbering on themselves and each other. The floor was similar to one of a peep show.  The smell was a mixture of intense body odor and the rotting of the inside of a stomach,  like stepping into the very stomach of an old salty alcoholic who had been drunk for 40 years straight: Warm, moist, humid, musty, rotten.

The whole invasion started out innocuously enough at Wednesday 9:30 AM, Randy’s flight arrived a full two hours early, luckily I had already had my quota of pot and coffee and fired of the calypso mosaic quilt patterned van for retrieval, which, incedently, can turn on a dime, judging by the lack of zombies guts on the hood. We stopped for huevos rancheros and mimosas as to create the foundation and start the process. After a briefing at the compound and the forging of SXSW badges, our journey began.