Alex Pires – Phonecall

Malte-feeble-saco-color-alexpires
Malte Spitz, Feeble Grind

S: Arnie, I thought we had a deal here. Are you fucking me on this?! Am I getting fucked here?!
A: My hands are tied, Sazo. They really are.

Bullshit! I’ve been on the road with these creeps for over three weeks now. We’ve hit up the entire Northwest Coast, skated all the demos, signed all the posters, foreheads, and sideboobs, gotten fucked up at all the bars, tindered all the local slags, and I still haven’t been paid our per diem! We’re running on fumes here, Arnie. It’s gotten so bad, the only trick any of these idiots is pulling are those shit-ass feeble grinds! Feeble grinds! I mean, come on, the name says it all! Can’t you hear that new guy Ricky trying one of them behind me as we speak?!
Hey Sazo, what can I say? It’s your job to motivate the kids. Get them psyched. Get the bangers, man. Kill the demos and get the locals to support the brand. That’s what we pay you for.

Pay?! I’m still waiting on that first tour check! Are you fucking kidding me?
Calm down, Sazo. I can try sending you some more boards and you guys can see if you can sell them maybe…

WHAT?! BOARDS?! Heads are gonna roll if you send me a box of boards, Arnie! Believe you me!
Oh calm the fuck down man, I…

Listen here, Arnie, I expect the money to be wired over to us by tomorrow morning or we’re burning the fucking van and selling Ricky to the Romanians for food and drug money!!! Comprende?!?!

DISCLAIMER:
This is a phone conversation as reported by the so-called Sazo. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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