Do You Wanna Get Rocked?

Part 3

What red-blooded American boy would not be captivated by those ripped jeans, mullets, and Union Jacks. I wanted to be that band. I usually had ripped knees in my jeans anyway, from falling in the yard. In 5th grade I started doing it on purpose, skidding across the driveway to wear them out. Should, for any reason, a knee rip out of my jeans today, I believe I would still wear it. It demonstrates my explosive personality. I don’t think I’d rip them intentionally any longer.

I dressed simply to the State Fair. That was our agreement: don’t draw any undue attention. Plain T-shirt, jeans, that’s it. Don’t draw attention from the filthy degenerate rednecks that came to get their Ferris on. Those apes will drop what they are doing to beat anything they perceive as a fag without any provocation, and cannot be trusted if you take your eyes off them. Dr. Filth, as usual, couldn’t keep his politics off his sleeve, or his chest and back for that matter. He wore a Cradle of Filth T-shirt with a naked angel on the front. She had nice tits. Thankfully, whatever Satanic quote was across the back was covered by his leather jacket. This was August, why was he wearing a leather jacket? Somehow, we’d gotten away from the concert without getting beat up even once!

Our waitress came quickly and laid out menus before us. We both ordered sodas without thinking. As soon as she left, I saw the ad to my right for a full carafe of orange juice. At that moment, I knew no soda could ever slake the desperate thirst inside me; I needed OJ, and I needed OJ now.

The waitress returned and placed our sodas before us. I pointed to the advertisement and asked to change my drink order. By far, it was the more expensive item.

“No,” she said, and it was hard to tell if she was joking. She didn’t sound like she was joking. “I already poured this.” She gave my soda a little shove. “You’re going to drink it. If you want something else, you have to pay for both.” She was not old enough to be this bitter. I was asking for an up-charge item!

This was pre-9/11, so sodas were still around a dollar. As with now, back then this normally included unlimited free refills. Still, I’ve never been one for wasting food, so I agreed to pay the extra and try to drink the soda I no longer wanted. She brought my juice, the whole event should have been forgotten. She’s neither the first, nor last in a long string of rude Denny’s waitstaff. We went back to talking about Def Leppard.

Their music could not be more manufactured, but they deserve credit for tenacity. The band continues to tour today with a lineup that has not changed since 1991, and only changed then through the death of guitarist Steve Clark. Even with drummer Rick Allen’s famous dismemberment, only a year passed between the release of their two most famous albums, Pyromania and Hysteria. Exactly how many teenage girl souls were sold to Mutt Lang for this staying power is unclear. I don’t care what anyone says, “Let’s Get Rocked” is a badass song.

Our waitress returned with a smile and an armful of plates. With delicacy and ease she laid out Dr. Filth’s spread before him. The Doctor is a large man, and even at a Denny’s he can eat a lot of food. She fawned and cooed and placed every plate in place. She had a soda refill for him as well, though his first was still half full. I only had one plate. She tossed it. The plate bounced and spun in front of me, toppling a few hashbrowns on the table. “That’s what you ordered, isn’t it?” she said curtly, and walked away before I could respond. Dr. Filth insisted we stay and eat our food, but I did not leave a tip.

Let’s get the rock outta here.