Bones, the bass player of Memphis Thrash Metal band Evil Army, was found dead in his apartment yesterday of an apparenty overdose.
Bones was always a cool cat, but he was also always... well, a fuckin JUNKIE. I'm not going to sugar coat this shit. I'm so fucking pissed off a Bones right now, if he were alive, I'd beat the shit out of him, and I feel BAD that I didn't beat the shit out of him before it was too late. Yeah, I would have looked like an asshole, but if he'd be alive, I could deal with that.
Bones was close friends with my bass player Steven Bean, as well as with my old guitar player Krazy Carl Isaacson. In particular, I remember hanging out with Bones and Steve at Carl's house and there was this goat that got caught in a fence and died. Steve came and got the goat, but he left it in his trunk for too long in the heat and it began to bloat. At that time Bones was having an... altercation with a bitchy neighbor, and so in exchange for Y-sectioning the goat (God.. the unholy smell... fucked up the whole goddamn block... FUCK) bones got the remains left after Steve was done with the corpse. This left him with a headless, legless, skinless, rotting goat corpse with which to terrorize this bitch.
SO now Bones is dead, and my best memory of him is watching him mutilate a dead goat corpse.
This is my real fucking life. I'm so fucking pissed at fucking Bones right now. First JR Golden, and now fucking Bones.
ANy body else want to die over some stupid drug shit? How many of these obits do I have to post before peopel FUCKING LISTEN.
I swear to god, the hate inside me is nuclear right now.
FUCK
If I EVER catch one of you fucks on the hard shit, and I can find you, I WILL FUCKING CUT YOU. I've learned my lesson: I'll serve 11-fucking-29 before I let this shit happen on my watch again.
Heroine, Coke, Meth, Painkillers, Adderall... don't fucking let me catch you. I've got a morgue full of fucking hate in store for you, and I'll be more than glad to save your life by busting your fucking face.