D. K. Money (twistedsilence) wrote in anti_atdi,
D. K. Money

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TMV gets pissed on by anti_atdi

So I live in Seattle, and a few weeks ago I find out that Endfest is being held here. Although I previously had a strict policy of not attending a show/music festival that contains more than a 5% consistency of attendants that like, enjoy, or may be inclined to liking The Mars Volta, it was a perfect opportunity to bring my grand plan to fruition. I set out for Endfest, ticket and water bottles in hand.

After waiting for hours, sandwiched between the sweaty bodies of hipster faggots and their girlfriends, The Mars Volta finally took the stage. Little did they know that anti_atdi had been plotting their humiliation for years. I unzipped my drawers and slid my sixteen-inch dong into the first of my water bottles, and unleashed a torrent of piss. As it filled up, I switched my manhood into the next bottle, and the next, and into the last of the four soon-to-be projectiles. After their third song drew to a close, I cried "FOR ANTI_ATDI!" and launched the first salvos of urine onto the stage. Time slowed down briefly as the crowd watched in amazement as the mathematically perfect arc of my piss bottle's sacred flight slammed into the guitarist, breaking open and turning his white shirt into a horrendous shade of dark yellow. Omar, enveloped in a blind rage after being blindsided by a hot, frothy bottle of my urine, smashed his guitar into his amp, interrupting Cedric's seizure dance. I cocked back my arm and sent the next volley of piss missiles into the air, squarely hitting Cedric in the side of the face. My man-lemonade dripped down his chest like melted butter on a Thanksgiving turkey.



Unfortunately I was apprehended by security and thrown off the premises, but no charges were brought against me.

Apparently Cedric has a bounty out on my head. You could be the lucky winner of $100 to $1000, as well as a lifetime supply of The Mars Volta merchandise, if you bring him my severed head. It was also implied that Cedric would allow you to be his friend if you do so, which is only slightly preferrable to developing stage-4 AIDS.

"That's what happens when you decide to build a venue on sacred burial ground." No, that's what happens when you fart into a mic and sell it to hipsters. It's what happens when you make a whole crowd of people sit through a 2-hour fisting of a freestyle jam session that is the musical equivalent of getting your asshole bitten off by a midget. Get a goddamn haircut, hippies. You've been pwned by anti_atdi, through and through.

On a related note, Snakes on a Plane is released today. Go see it, and if you've already seen it, go see it again.
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