nine_ball_heaven raze we weren't sharks or anything. we just liked to hang out and shoot pool and listen to music. most of the time we were high. gord always took care of the soundtrack. there was good stuff in the jukebox, too. zeppelin. floyd. the doors. alice cooper. jeff_buckley, for christ's sake. when's the last time you heard "grace" in a pool hall? whether he was scaring the shit out of me with beck's "mutherfuker" or playing blind melon songs the radio wouldn't touch with a ten-foot tongue depressor, he never made a false move. one night a couple of hard-looking dudes grabbed the table behind ours. they wanted to hear some gangsta rap. gord pumped the machine full of money before those guys even showed up. it took half an hour for any of their songs to kick in. maybe longer. i was sure they were going to kill us. "people are strange" never sounded so sinister. but we didn't die then, or on any other night when we probably should have. we were only there once before dark. a few teenage girls got sick of listening to "the song remains the same" and took off. we apologized to the owner for scaring his customers away. "i'm glad they left," he said. "they were annoying me." i think the place closed down when someone got stabbed there. and it's too bad. it's just too bad. 230416 what's it to you? who go blather from