It was Friday night at Rock For Love and the stage was set for vengeance. The pieces were all in place: the kiddie pool, my nemesis Kerry Crawford, and 30 gallons of spaghetti.
The crowd grew through the night as band after band lured their fans into the Hi-tone to support the Church Health Center and their hope-mongering agenda of affordable health care.
Around 1 a.m. I had had my fill of do-goodery. I stormed the stage, called Crawford out, and together we proceeded to the Pit of Pasta waiting outside.
The match was filled with sound and fury and lots of cold, slimy noodles. I won’t dwell on trivial details such as who won the contest, let’s just say that in spite of a sudden intake of pasta, I’m still hungery for vengeance.