the stories

As I promised you, oh many years ago, I have taken some of the stories actually submitted to me and posted them up here in the guidozone. Take heed, gentle reader of the tales of human suffering herein contained. Read ye of the doom meted out upon the brilliantined heads of the "sleezy"...

 

 

NAME = W...W...W...Wheaties eh

email = mtnbikester2001@yahoo.com

fave_hunk = Stavros

Where_he_from? = A goat farm in Greece

What_his_job = He sells drugs of course. DUH!

Fave_woman = A Sheep

His_Story = Stavros goes to Pueblo, eh.

Having had little luck in finding fame and fortune in his greek goat farm world, Stavros sets out by boat for America. A long journey so he brought some magazines along for entertainment. Stavros also thought it might help if there was no tp on the long trip to America.

After his arrival he set out from NYC for his destination. The Riverwalk of Pueblo, Colorado. Stavros had heard that the drug trade was run by young stupid lower eastside punks in Pueblo. He sought to become drug lord of Pueblo, under the guise of a lowly mexican musican playing in a cumbia band with Sammy Lucero.

Stavros had practiced his dance steps in anticipation of the mighty Sammy Lucero and his amazing Batos de Salt Creek. He knew it would be a mighty task to have the proper dance moves or face Sammy's wrath.

After a long bus ride west, filled with many stops at truck stops where Stavros sold crack in order to eat. (He cut the bus driver in for half and all was good) Stavros arrived in Colorado. He met a young lady named Pia and they made out at the bus station in Belmont. He tried to cop a feel but Pia slapped him and Stavros told her he'd rather fuck a sheep anyway.

Stavros found lodging at a local eastside motel. He was mugged and all his drugs were stolen. His assailants thought he smelled bad so they took him down by the river and duct taped him to a log. They threw him in the river to drown, but the Fountain river had no water. So they took him to black bridge and tied him to the train tracks and left him there.

About this time some Pueblo stray dogs from dogpatch came along and ate Stavros...they was starving dogs.

The moral of my story...drugs are bad mmm k.

The end...thank you, thank you very much.

 

NAME = Xa4 Esq.

email = xa4@themeanteam.be

fave_hunk = Costis

Where_he_from? = A goat farm in Greece

What_his_job = He smuggles parrots into Norway

Fave_woman = The one who got away

His_Story = In 1992 I met Costis in the Arkadian village Kosmas, where he was working on a goat farm - annex restaurant. He served me a delicious goat broth and told me the story of his life.

As a child, he fell in love with his neighbour Stavros' daughter Parthena. As you have Stavros' picture on your site, you must be aware of the man's phenomenal musical potential. Anyhow, he was invited to join a band of Belgian Tuxedomoon impersonators called The Quicktime Players, and took little Parthena with him because she was the only person who could make bougatsa the way he liked it.

Poor Costis didn't know where his beloved was taken to, only had heard the words "rain", "shrimps" and "northern country". So when his mother died, he took the opportunity to smuggle her parrots to Norway, hoping to find Parthena in that trollful country.

The money of the parrots was swiftly spent on fancy clothes & cowboy hat and Costis had to return to Kosmas where the nuns of the nearby convent - impressed by his cosmopolitan looks - offered him a job at their goat farm.

If you want to know the rest of the story & some of the whereabouts of Luc van Lieshout while he's not on tour with TM, visit http://themeanteam.be

NAME = Richard Perez

email = rperez@cdmsllc.com

fave_hunk = Christophe

Where_he_from? = Stuttgart

What_his_job = Plays tambourine with Tuxedomoon

Fave_woman = The one who got away

His_Story = Christophe was born and raised in Romania andhad a job beating carpets at the palace of that dictator and his wife who got kicked out.

When things got bad for him because cochesku or whatever his name was didn't pay him anymore,he joined a secret group to plan a coup. After they caught up with the dictator and his wife,carpetbeater Christophe became a hero delivering the fatal blows. Free at last, he took their Yugo and headed west until he got to Stuttgart where he met up with fellow balkanites that specialized in custom carpet installations for the nearby Mercedes plant.

Soon Christophe was back at work beating carpets and doing some private security work for a loan shark, who was owed money by a neo-Nazi group that borrowed from him to buy explosives. Their ringleader, Clazy Joe, was actually chinese and had a beautiful wife, Jade, with whom Joe fell in love with. Joe got wind of it and sent her back to Hong Kong in a hurry. When Christophe beat the crap out of him for non-payment with his favorite carpetstick, and asked by the way what happened to your beautiful wife, Joe said she went back to the fat lung clan in San Francisco.

Lovesick Chris promptly shipped out to SF and wandered Chinatown in search of his love. He met up with an old Romanian carpetbeater colleague who got him work in a Chinese carpet shop. Chris drowned his sorrow by going to underground clubs at night.

One night while watching Tuxedomoon, their percussionist collapsed from a drug od, and Christophe leaped up on stage without missing a beat , picked up his tambourine and has played it since. With his strong arms he keeps perfect time and has infused their music with an eastern flair.

A tour with the Residents to Romania is in the planning stages.