All The Young Punks Pt. 41

"It's a bit," Sal whispered loudly as the burly man leaned over him. "This is fake."

Joe leaned over and put his hand on security's shoulder. "We're pranking Chicago. Just go with it."

"Pretend you're helping," Sal said, then twitched his legs, one arm flopped behind him.

"You guys are fucked up."

"Yes, we are." Joe returned to his mic. "Sorry folks it's nothing. He'll be fine."

Sal's legs went into double twitching, more spastic. Joe enjoyed the looks of horror on the faces in front of him, but also some nodding heads and smiles. Not everyone in Chicago was gullible.

"Get the fuck up, Sal, you lazy fucking meatball. Speaking of meatballs," Joe changed his tone to blase. "do you guys actually like this deep-dish pizza shit?"

Sal rolled to his back. His legs stopped twitching.

"I don't get it. I prefer a thin crust. I like a slice of pie, not a loaf of bread."

Sal sat up in one motion, like Dracula, all leg and back muscles from doing daily sit-ups since he was twelve. The eyes in front turned to confusion.

"You gullible fucking saps!" Joe shouted. "I thought people in Philadelphia were rubes, but you guys.... What the fuck?"

Sal stood up and stepped to his mic. "Suckers!"

Joe counted them into a new song. "One, two, three, four." Stupid People didn't get airplay, but it was a fun song reminding people how stupid we all are. Some eyes up front were hostile as Joe sang loud and proud. They shouted and flipped him off.

"The sad thing about stupid people

We're too stupid to know.

I'm the last to laugh at jokes

And I thought Chicago had smart folks.

Because I'm stupid, just like you

Fucking stupid, there's nothing we can do

Dumb people do the dumbest shit

Morons, idiots, and fucking twits

Smart people are stupid too

Stupidly proud and full of crap

Because we're stupid, me and you.

Fucking stupid, we're so confused.

Stupid People. Yeah, you!

Stupid People, Yeah, you!"

Joe grinned as the final chord and cymbal crash faded, watching the contrast in faces. Some were still angry, or maybe just annoyed, others laughed, getting the joke, and some were confused. He walked back to get a drink, taking his time, letting fans, and maybe some ex-fans, sound off. Then he stepped up to the mic.

"No, seriously, this pizza, you really don't like it, do you? You pretend to like it because you're from Chicago. Have you ever had clam chowda? Boston people love that cat vomit. I think they're faking it too."

The boos and middle fingers only made Joe smile wider. He blew a kiss to Chicago. Five songs later Joe offered the crowd a chance to redeem themselves.

"I hope you know the words to this next song. The punks in New York crush it." He struck one distorted chord. "Yabba, Dabba, Do!" The Flintstones turned more faces into smiles, and Chicago sang along.

When they did the dance contest, security lifted the girls on stage. The busy lady was not pleased with audience members coming on stage, but she allowed it and instructed her security team to help. When Marlene from Schaumberg pulled Joe's shirt over his head and slapped his naked back so hard it left her pink handprint, Joe surrendered his Underdog T-shirt. Then he watched more faces coming back to him as he held Marlene's hand in triumph. He took the mic and turned his bare back to the fans.

"This is what I get for being an asshole to a Chicago chick!"

Joe did all his stunts, but the stage was too removed from the crowd. The bits that needed volunteers took longer than usual disrupting the flow of the show. He did Name That Tune and had a young lady sing a Blondie cover, and they did one more singalong, Gilligan.

In Cleveland he made fun of their crappy sports teams, the mistake on the lake, and their river catching on fire a few years back. This was the tone of the forty-days and forty-nights tour, Joe mocking what they love and them bringing them back to his side with antics.

In Cincinati; "Everyone says I gotta try your famous chili, so I did." He paused. "That runny diarehia has no meat in it. What the fuck is that shit?"

In Philadelphia; "Okay, so tried Genos and I tried Pats. I don't get it. What's the big fucking deal with a Philly Cheesesteak? And what kind of animals put spray can cheese on steak?"

"What if the steak sucks?" Sal asked.

"Oh," Joe slapped his forehead. "Are you trying to hide your shitty steak under fake cheese?"

"I wouldn't let Julius Erving wash Larry Bird's jockstrap. He's not worthy!" That line received the loudest boos.

Two weeks into the six-week run Joe had messages from the Abrams Agency. Ken was looking for theaters to book late in the trip, changing club dates to larger venues. Joe called back immediately.

"You can't pull the rug out from under our clubs. They booked us and now you're backing out two weeks before the show. These people may be nothing to you, but many of them are my friends."

"Two weeks is perfectly good notice."

"Bullshit. What changes have you made?"

"You have to understand that these moments don't happen often. You have to seize them when they do."

"What moments?"

"Joe, the record is doing great. There's a buzz. 'You Don't Know' is getting radio play. That's two songs on this record and guess what?" Ken paused. "These radio stations are now discovering your old music. Alpha Man is getting air time."

"What changes have you made?"

"I'm not touching the big venues but I've swapped out a few small bars."

"Where?"

"New Haven, Worcester, Providence, and...."

"Those are our oldest venues, good friends who gave us a shot when we were nobody. I don't do that to my friends."

"I have also moved shows to on-campus auditoriums at Middlebury, Dartmouth, and UConn. These are now ticketed events with capacities of around a thousand. Those bars were all under three fifty."

Joe seethed in Cincinnati. "Listen to me. Don't change one more gig. You have no clue if these auditoriums are suitable for a rock band. What do they have for sound systems and lighting?"

"I asked all the questions, Joe. They assured me they're set up for us."

Ken gave Joe a list of seven clubs he canceled on. Joe picked up the phone called each one and apologized for what was done. He then promised them the band would play a late-night set at their clubs after the theater show... if that was okay with them.

"It'll be gratis, he said. I feel terrible. You can charge a cover or not. That's your call."

After handling his business, Joe went to the front of the bus. He sat on the couch. "When we get home, we're playing The Ocean State Theater."

"What happened to the Living Room?"

"Ken is upgrading venues, canceling clubs, and booking theaters where he can."

"Why?"

"Money," Joe said. "What other reason could there be?"

.

.

--- THE OCEAN STATE ---

When the bus pulled up in front of the Theroux house, it blocked the street. There was no parking on Vinton Street to accommodate the Whale. Joe leaned over Larry's shoulder.

"Can you fit her in the driveway?"

"It's deep enough but I don't know if I can swing this turn."

"Do you want me to get out and spot you?"

"Yeah, I'll take one crack at this, kid." Larry looked up. "You get one shot."

"Okay. Can you blast the horn?"

"Before Larry's three horn honks were done, Joe's sisters were on the front porch watching him wave the Whale into the driveway."

"What's this?" Jackie shouted. "Did you buy a bus?"

"No. It's a rental."

"Can we go for a ride?' Jeanie shouted while running into Joey's arms.

"No, but I'll give you the tour and we can hang out if the bus fits here." He pointed to Larry's left and held his hands two feet apart. "The Whale is pretty damn cool."

"The Whale?" Jules smiled. "That's the opposite of a minnow."

"I know!" Joe bent over and kissed her hair. "That's why I call her that?"

Larry made the three-point turn like a pro. Before he cut the engine, the girls were lined up for boarding. As they stepped up, Joe made introductions.

"Larry, these are my sisters, Jackie, Julie, and Jeanie. Girls this is Larry, our driver."

Larry smiled and tipped his cap. "It's a pleasure to meet you young ladies. Joe told me all about you."

"This is soooo cool!" Jeanie nearly shouted.

Larry pulled on Joe's sleeve. "What's up with all the J-names?"

Joe shrugged.

"You have a kitchen?" Jackie turned to Joe. "You can cook? This is amazing."

"You have a phone?" Jules held up the brick.

"There's a VCR," Jeanie announced. "Larry, can we watch a movie tonight?"

Joe glanced at his driver. "This is my life."

The Ocean State Theater was an ornate 1920s Vaudeville theater, movie house, a home for live theater, concerts, and the Rhode Island Philharmonic. It fell into disrepair in the sixties and early seventies, until the city and the Rhode Island Preservation Society registered it as a historic site to spare it from the wrecking ball. They fixed her up just enough to hold concerts to pay for future renovations, then it was renamed the Providence Performing Arts Center.

"It'll always The Ocean State to me," Joe said as Larry parked The Whale on Weybosset Street downtown.

"It was The Palace Theater before that," Sal added. "I saw The J. Geils Band there."

"We saw Ozzy with Def Leppard backing him up," Joe added. "Me, Sal, and Johnny."

"Ozzy spit on Joe," Sal laughed.

"What in bloody hell did you do to Ozzy?" Simon asked.

"I stood in the front row. He spit on me, and his sweat was flying all over. I went for a tetanus shot the next day." Joe smirked.

"We had shitty seats, high balcony," Sal said. "Joe had a plan. We stood at the very back of the lower level. As soon as the lights went down, we bum-rushed down the center aisle. The ushers weren't ready, it was pitch dark, and by the time we reached the front, people were behind us pouring out of rows."

"I did the bum rush for The Talking Heads too," Joe added. "It worked, so I did it again."

The 3100-seat theater was the largest venue they played. Ken booked it because it was the Punk's hometown and he figured they'd draw. He was correct. They didn't sell out the 2000 seaters in Chicago and Cleveland, but they packed the Ocean State.

Joe gave tickets to his family, five in all. Dad took the girls and Wendy. Mom chose to stay home. Joe pretended that was okay, but deep down it hurt that his mother wasn't interested in seeing him perform.

It was a fitting homecoming for the sons of Providence. WBRU had Joe on the air hours before the show to discuss their sudden success in far-off places and the forty-night tour. After the show, the band was one block away playing a late ninety-minute set at The Living Room. Leaving town after 2 AM, the guys were exhausted. Three shows were remaining on the trip. The finale was at The Palladium in NYC. At 3400, it would become the new largest venue for the band.

"This was a great road trip," Sal said, leaning back on the bus sofa, his feet up. "Forty days is perfect."

Nate sat at the opposite end, "I'm okay with it."

"It's ten days too long," Joe said from the dining booth, scribbling in his notebook.

"If we take off," Sal said. "Tina's gonna have to suck it up."

"That's none of your business, Sal."

Nate's eyes got wide. He glanced at Joe and then Sal.

"Sure it is," Sal said quietly. "We're partners, and her shit is holding us back."

"It's none of your fucking business, Sal."

Larry watched through his mirror, one eye always on the road.