“That’s what a dick does my friend. They don’t think, they fuck. There’s two kinds of people in this word, those who fuck and those who get fucked. I don’t think you’ve got the balls to fuck.”


“Nothing happened!” she cried. “I told you twenty fucking times!”

He pulled out the pistol he had hidden underneath the driver’s seat and pointed it at her. The anger raged inside of him. He felt like a rabid dog trapped in a cage. Violence was the only way.

“What are you gonna do shoot me? Put that gun away you fucking psycho!” Jenny screamed.

“That’s not what Sally Jensen said” replied Steve. “She said you had four dicks up your ass!”

“Four dicks? I don’t think that’s physically possible. You’re a fucking asshole Steve. I don’t want to go to the show with you! Put that stupid gun away and take me home!”

Jenny rolled her eyes and looked away as she held back the tears. Sally Jensen that bitch! This is all her fault she thought. I’m going to kick her ass tomorrow!

“I find the accusations about you disgraceful and downright embarrassing. Frankly, I don’t believe you. Why would Sally Jensen lie? She had pictures of the tour bus at your house! I’m sorry Jenny.” Steve then pulled the trigger. He watched her blood and brains splash the passenger side window. An unfamiliar gray matter mixed with bits of her skull spayed him. Death was messy and the smell was horrid. He put down the car windows and pushed Jenny’s dead body into the back seat. Now that she was out of the picture, he felt more focused.


It was early, nearly two hours before the concert. Nobody had seen the murder. Soon the parking garage would be filled with drunken head bangers. It would be sometime before his bloody deed was discovered. Plenty of time to execute a plan for revenge. He paid to get into the venue, bought a drink and waited at the bar. Eventually, the bouncers would become preoccupied with the numerous half-naked groupies the band was sure to draw.

Whip Hand definitely had a reputation with the ladies. The song “Girls Just Want to Be Sluts” propelled them into stardom seemingly overnight. A lot of people thought of them as the next Motley Crue. It was only a matter of time before the group was headlining stadium tours. Steve knew he needed to act now before they got too big.

The bouncers were pre-occupied with electric sex as he made his way down the dark hallway leading to the band dressing rooms. He’d been in these rooms many times before. As an artist himself, he knew the struggles and sacrifice. He also knew the importance of reputation. Whip Hand had disgraced him in a major way. He no longer had the respect of his fellow artists. Worse yet, his band Dog Puke was now the laughing stock of town.

He let the anger explode within him, he hated to be mocked. Rejected as a teen, heavy metal had provided the answer. It brought him respect. Now he’d lost that honor because of a bunch of sex crazed pansies in leather jackets. He couldn’t stand for it.


He stumbled into the back room and caught the band smoking a joint while watching porno on a laptop computer. Idolized by millions, wasting their lives on self-serving ideals. What an example! Metal is about the unity and the music not strip clubs and cheap drugs he thought.

“Hey man. I recognize you dude!” said the bassist Pete. “Hey guys It’s that ‘Malfunction Dude’. Aren’t you the guitar player from that Dog Shit band?”

“Yes. I am.” Steve let out a big fake smile. “Hey guys! What’s up?”

“It was that Easter gig in Carbondale last month, remember?” added Pete.

They all stared inquisitively at Steve. Whip Hand played a gig up north last month on Easter Sunday. Steve’s band Dog Puke opened. Unfortunately, they had some equipment problems and got themselves booed off the stage.

Whip Hand caught their act and added to the problem by referring to them as Dog Pile and saying that even a pile of dog shit deserves a break on Easter Sunday. Two members of Dog Puke quit after the set and Jenny ran off with the band. Steve’s life spiraled into the toilet shortly after. It was his worst Easter ever. No chocolate this year, he just got fucked.

“Dog shit, you got booed off stage! That was fucking kick ass! What are you here for man?” asked Randy the band’s guitar player. “Do you need some guitar lessons?”

The band broke up laughing. Steve held his ground. He let their laugher be the lightning rod for his anger. He’d been humiliated before and now these fuckers were going to pay.

He pulled out the handgun and pointed it at the band. “Nobody move!” Steve screamed.

“Shit man! I’m going to have to call you ‘Major Malfunction’ now!” said Pete.

“Shut the fuck up! I’ll blow your fucking head off!”

“Just chill dude,” said Randy “Nobody wants to get hurt.”

“What’s your problem man?” asked Ken Summers, the band’s singer and undisputed leader.

“Are you serious? You really don’t know?” He pointed the gun at each one of them. “Jenny was my girl, how could you do it? Are you guys a bunch of sex hounds or something?”

“Is he talking about some slut after show?” asked Pete.

“Shut the fuck up Pete! Sorry, dude. We didn’t know she was with you. Girls approach us all the time, it’s hard to say no.” said Randy. In his mind women were little more than real estate.

“That’s ok. I killed her. Shot her in the head before I came in here.”

The band stared back at him silently.

“I had to do it. Everybody was calling her a slut. They even called my band dog shit!”

Police sirens started to wail in the background. Somebody had discovered Jenny’s body.

“That sucks bro. We’re really sorry. Just put the gun away and we’ll talk about it.”

“I’m sorry too guys. You’re a decent band but I just can’t just leave this kind of insult unavenged. You gangbanged my girlfriend and called me a piece of shit on stage.”

He cocked the pistol. “You stupid dicks ruined my life!”

Ken got up from the couch. He walked towards Steve with his hands raised.

“That’s what a dick does my friend. They don’t think, they fuck. There’s two kinds of people in this word, those who fuck and those who get fucked. I don’t think you’ve got the balls to fuck.”

“Sit down!” yelled Steve, sweat was forming on his brow.

“Do you want to suck our dicks like she did, you little bitch?” replied Ken.

“No!” He pointed the gun at Ken but couldn’t pull the trigger.

“Don’t antagonize him Kenny. What if that fucking gun is loaded?” said the drummer with the mohawk. Everyone called him crazy Mitch but Ken ignored him. This sickly looking punk isn’t going to scare me he thought. Just think about the publicity we’ll receive after I kick this guys ass.

Ken got right in Steve’s face. “We rode your girlfriend until she couldn’t take it anymore, the fucking slut loved it, kept screaming for more.”

“Mitch told you, don’t antagonize him.” warned Randy but Kenny went for broke.

“Slut had a nice body, big juicy tits, she can probably work in pictures.”

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Five bullets. That’s all it took. All four members of Whip Hand, dead or mortally wounded.

Kenny Summers was still alive. The gunman approached the vocalist coughing up blood.

“I hope she was the ride of your life!” he hissed.

The bloody figure turned. “Fuck you, nothing happed! Your girlfriend passed out on our couch. We had the tour bus take her home. Some other bitch saw us drop her off and razzed her on it. We played it up on her suggestion, the other bitch looked familiar. She used to be a regular groupie of ours but we had a falling out. This is about jealously man, the joke’s on you.”

His body became stiff as life quickly left it.

The police burst into the room and handcuffed a bewildered Steve.

He murdered his girlfriend and favorite band over a rumor started by Sally Jensen! The worst Easter ever turned out to be the Easter that cost him his life. A couple of hours after his arrest Steve hung himself in jail.


Sally Jensen smiled when she heard the news. Steve had been her little Easter pawn and her twisted plan had worked perfectly. A breast enhancement and two abortions. She’d given everything she had to that band, they all knew it. Whip Hand would never hit the fast lane without her.


Share this: