The Axe-Wielder | CreepCast

27:25Hunter:No, we don't know. John Rivers. No, no, Johnny. don't don't say your stuff like that john rivers definitely yeah no no no took another drink telling myself to calm down let's just let's just get your strings restring the whole thing muttered to myself pacing around the kitchen bottle in hand pace swig pace swig the process repeated for a few minutes i slugged down the last of my whiskey and slammed the bottle on the counter a bit too hard forgetting it was glass god damn it broken glass covered the counter a few pieces embedded in my left hand. It hurt like a son of a bitch. Oh, yes. It needed blood.

28:00Some of the pain. It needed blood, Isaiah! Oh, yeah. That's cool. I like that. Yeah, that's hot. I quickly... This story's so cool. Yeah. Immediately starts playing

28:13Hunter:Rain and Blood on the fucking... He'll probably still play Stairway to Heaven, but... Oh, yeah. There's a place in the... Yeah, go ahead. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but the whiskey dulled some of the pain. I quickly swept the glass off the counter into the trash, picked the shards out of my hand, and ran it under the faucet for a bit. Most of it wasn't too bad, but there was a nasty cut that wouldn't stop bleeding on my upper palm. I wadded up a paper towel in my left hand and staggered back to the other room. The guitar was where I left it, lying across the couch. String snapped all hell.

28:48I moved it to the side and sat back, letting the whiskey cloud my thoughts. This was a disaster. Pit last night, Ibanez, now this. My arms slumped beside me and the paper towel fell from my left hand. Blood dripped from the cut, drops landing on the fretboard of the guitar. I rolled my eyes and sighed, ready for another. God damn it. But then, saw it. What the hell? A mouth looking at the guitar. Neck was clean. No blood to be found. Otter, though, was that the high E string looked intact. Good as new. Hand be damned, I picked it up and put my fingers to the fretboard. My palm continued to bleed, but the droplets disappeared in an instant.

29:35They touched the black body. They were being absorbed. Wincing slightly, I started to stare away to heaven once more. there's a lady who sure as i picked the first few notes difference was night and day sounds okay i think you should keep singing i think that's good you should sing in the background while i read the sounds that came out of the amp were the cleanest tones i'd ever heard notes that could have been played by jimmy page himself sounded heavenly with a word she can get what she came for.

30:17It's a quote.

30:19Hunter:And she's buying a stairway to heaven. Johnny Sticks, everyone. I said, standing up and giving a mock bow. Oh, Johnny, don't do that. Don't do the mock bow, dude. Hello. Hope you're ready to suck my dick. See, he's... yeah who's ready to suck some dick tonight so instead of him wait that came out wrong um instead of him like becoming like too big for his head he becomes cringe and starts doing mock bows and stuff like that well that's what keeps him grounded i fiddled with the knobs on the amp a bit adding some distortion and darker tone and broke into the best rendition of Warpigs I'd ever played.

31:05Hell yeah. Would you like to sing as I read? No, I'm not going to keep singing over the fucking...

31:10Hunter:I think it works as long as the editor tones it down, like makes you quieter. Does it have to make me extremely quiet in the mix? Yeah, you just hear it in the background. I think that would add to the tone of what's happening. There you go. The sounds coming out of this thing were astonishing. Could I always play like this? And the string baffled me. I could have sworn it broke, but here it was. For a couple more perfect sounding plays of my usual repertoire, I decided to wind down and call it a night. Pit wouldn't know what hit it on Saturday. As the war machine keeps... Is that my deal again?

31:50Hunter:Sorry. No, no, no. I just... Until the end of the paragraph. Because then we're talking about different scenes. But you can still... It's the artistic... You have to understand the artistic licensing. Sorry, that's true. Also, the copyright. Even the copyright. We're going to get flagged so hard. I don't think you're going to get copyrighted for singing. Just like Ozzy. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're too good to sing for too long. I love you.

32:22Next morning? The next morning, I immediately went for the guitar again. Plugged in and ready. I plucked the first notes of Stairway to Heaven. All right, buddy. Expecting that angelic sound once more. but I was greeted with the flat and twingy cacophony that came out when I first brought the guitar home. Confused, I started the song over to the same results. My mind buzzed with possibilities. Was yesterday's perfect smooth tone the oral version of whiskey goggles? Either way, the thing sounded like shit right now. Then it hit me. The idea was batshit insane, but I had to try it. The string repaired itself.

33:02I muttered to myself as I went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the drawer. The guitar was propped up where I left it, seemingly staring at me, challenging me. I rested the guitar on my lap as I poked the tip of the knife into my palm, reopening yesterday's wound. Grunting, I pushed it in until my palm was red with blood. A few drops fell onto the fretboard and promptly disappeared, followed by more as I shook my hand and closed it into a fist. The body's black sheen and red strings seemed to glow as it absorbed the red fluid.

33:38Hunter:It gave me kind of sick as if when he was playing, if it fucking shredded up his fingers and then also bled onto the strings that way to whatever. Maybe it'll get there. Maybe it'll get there. I really like, I mean, we were talking about like, you know, monkey's paw, whatever, but I really like the idea of literally having to bleed to play. Yeah. I mean, I like basically impairing yourself at this thing that you love to be able to play this like amazing instrument but inevitably it's going to leave you to a place where you'll never be able to play it again kind of thing yeah yeah yeah I like it yeah it's a cool it's a very literal version the trap is set is all I have to say I washed the wound once more and wrapped it up before picking up the guitar once more it felt light as a feather and my fingers fit the fretboard like a glove slung the strap around my neck noodled around with some scales and got to playing it sounded immaculate showtime he said grinning from ear to ear pain in my hand non-existent compared to the euphoria I felt I will say he's got to stop playing Stairway to Heaven and he's got to stop talking to himself Johnny you're better than that hey throw out a trap what song do you want to play at some point it seems like we're doing I legitimately believe that the only thing he knows to play is War Pigs and Stairway to Heaven I mean, I would be remiss if Sweet Child of Mine does not pop up.

35:01I mean, that would be a bear trap because you said it earlier when you didn't even know you were setting one. I'm telling you. The week leading up to Open Mic Saturday was a blur. I hardly needed to practice. Just a couple drops of blood and I was playing like a virtuoso. Anything I could imagine picked up straight away. I was addicted and bored the track marks. Left arm was nicked and cut to hell. A small price to pay and one I was more than willing to pay for what it bought. Days went by, knife kept going in and out of my arm and I got used to the pain, welcomed it even. I played like a god.

35:40I wasn't eating, hardly sleeping and completely confined to the apartment. Saturday rolled around, I was all but a zombie. My hair was greasy, complexion pallid, face patchy with stubble. My arm looked like a Picasso painting i was delirious hungry and smelled something awful but the pit had a microphone ready for me so i had to get my shit together that line's kind of hard but the pit had a

36:08Hunter:microphone for me this is just this is just a cool story i just love them i love them feels cool i jumped in the shower for the first time in a week letting the hot water slough off days of dried sweat and blood shoveled down some instant ramen and chased it with a couple cans of course light this guy is so you i'm gonna tell you johnny you gotta watch out because that waistline is going to expand rapidly careful buddy i was just like sodium oh well yeah get get away from it dasani my friend dasani let it be your friend lastly i put on my best van halen shirt and leather jacket, packed up the guitar, and made for the pit.

36:51Tonight, Johnny Sticks would be truly reborn. I arrived fashionably late, right as the comedian was wrapping up his set with a tasteless joke about the conflict in Gaza. What the joke was, I couldn't tell you, as it was nearly drowned out by the audience's groans. Same crowd as usual, ten or so regulars on their stools and the hippie chick sitting at the table on her phone. Pit was how it always was. Hazy and dim, smelling of stale beer and cigarettes. Vince raised an eyebrow as I walked in. Back for more, eh? He asked in his gravelly voice as I commandeered an empty stool. I nodded. Can't be any worse than that chuckle fuck.

37:31Gestured it said comedian, who was strutting toward the bar from the mic. Can't stand that fucking guy. You have to give him hell. Flashed me a smile, pulled a bottle of Jack out of nowhere, poured me a shot. To my new guitar, I said, winking at Vince before taking the shot. He rolled his eyes and gestured toward the mic. I could tell he expected another train wreck out of me, and if nothing else, a profit from the post-set drowning of sorrows. A smile crept onto my face as the thought of proving that old bastard wrong. I snuck a glance at the hippie chick on the way to the stage. Pretty as usual.

38:07Smooth blonde hair, tight green tank top. face buried in her phone. My smile widened at the thought of my music catching her attention, her eyes fixing on me. I had to make a quick stop before the mic, though. Bringing a full guitar case into a bar bathroom, especially a graffitied hellhole like the pits, may seem weird, but no one out there was paying attention. I shut myself in one of the stalls, took my jacket off, and opened the case. The guitar had that look to it, like it was staring at me. Fishing around in my pants, I found the small pocket knife I made sure to bring and flipped out the blade.

38:45Johnny sticks, everyone. I sat under my breath with the best impression of Innsis rasp I could muster before running the blade across my forearm. The leather jacket went straight back on. The pit was disgustingly warm, but I could take it to hide my arms. With my instrument satiated, I took my post at the mic. Amp on. Guitar slung. Case open in front of me. I was ready to tear the pit up. I took in my audience. Not a soul looking at me. Just shooting the shit. Drinking. The comedian had what looked like a long island in front of him. It was yapping at a pair of overly tanned older girls. The hippie chick continued to stare intently into her phone.

39:31Vince took a shot with this burly biker looking guy. I, people laughed, conversed, had a good old time. They didn't even spare me a glance, that is, until I started to play. I decided to start out with a bang, and I could see people's heads turns as if the first few notes of Eric Johnson's Cliffs of Dover sang from the amp. My fingers flew across the flatboard with a grace the pit had never witnessed before, and my pick struck gold with each note. Halfway through the song, every eye in the bar was on me. savoring the moment and reveling in the beautiful sounds. I continued to play, shredding my way to the end.

40:12For once in his life, the comedian had nothing to say. The hippie chick looked up with awe in her eyes, distracted from her phone. Vince stared at me, slack-jawed. People began to clap, but I cut them off without missing a beat, jumping right into a rendition of the Almond Brothers' Jessica with the same precision. I had the pit moving, people bobbing their heads the two tan ladies off their stools dancing and the cash my guitar case was a black hole sucking in the bills change pocket linings of nearly every bar patron do you do you think that this is like are they under a spell you think uh i yeah i could see that i mean i think the the plane of it would be hypnotic to say the least right yeah well that's that's that's

40:56Hunter:what i'm wondering because in in the in this year of uh our lord right with i mean cell phones and whatever and also rock music being like something that your dad or your grandpa listened to i think a guy even shredding on a guitar it i mean like this is very much like a rock musicians thing of like yeah i'm fucking playing and everyone's looking at me yeah holy shit on the foot like not to say that it's like totally that it's not as like amazing or like you know not that it's like no one likes it but i definitely think like i'm wondering if it's casting some kind of spell for people who don't give a shit about rock or something all of a sudden they're like whoa you're awesome you know something like that i could totally see that yeah i want to take a moment to thank today's sponsor ridge wallet at this point you all know ridge for many of their fantastic and rugged products like their power banks their luggage and their premium everyday gear and of course we can't forget about the ridge wallet i've had a ridge wallet for the past six years and I don't see myself ever going back.

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43:41Hunter:And after your purchase, if you could let them know that we sent you, it would really mean a lot. Thank you to Ridge for sponsoring the show. Their link will be in the description and we are now back to the episode.

44:14True to the song, I felt like I was on a stairway to heaven. After what felt like an eternity lost in Led Zeppelin, I rapped up, unslinging my guitar and giving a bow. As high as I felt in that moment, I couldn't help but notice the last few notes having a flat twain to them. Ah, it needs more blood. Motherfucking Johnny Sticks, everyone! Vince said in a breathless tone. The room exploded into applause. I made eye contact with the hippie chick. waint and chuckled as she turned as red as the wall behind her. I packed up, pocketed the cash from the case, and sauntered up to the bar. More swagger in my step than last week.

44:54Vince, per usual, had my cores ready.

44:56Hunter:How the fuck'd you do that, kid? He asked, disbelief in his voice. Told ya. I needed a new guitar and I got one. I replied, smirking. Took a sip of my beer. Well, come back next week. Do it again. Pack the place full Maybe I can get some, you know, friends in here Vince grand and I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes I decided to pry Friends, huh? Don't bullshit me, Vince Give me a deal Play like that again Pack the bar And I'll suck your cock if I have to No, it's okay, Vince I'm okay No, seriously I'll do it I'll kiss your cheek I'll kiss your cheek We'll go to the bathroom I'll suck your cock raw No, it's okay You said you wanted that, Johnny.

45:40Don't be a hypocrite. I didn't say that to anyone. I fantasized it alone in my apartment. There's a fantasy, Vince. Get out of my head. Get out of my head, Vince. There's a fantasy. Yeah, Vince is the supernatural one. Exactly. He can see his thoughts, yeah.

45:55Hunter:You ever seen 13 Ghost?

46:00That's not even me. That's the people reading the story right now.

46:03Hunter:I have to know that. One of them keeps burping from Diet Coke. Good enough for me. I slapped a couple of the bills onto the bar. Round for the bar! I roared, voice full of raw confidence. The next hour was the best of my life. Drinks flowing, all the compliments a man could ask for, the hippie chick's number on a napkin. Life was good. Before long, I was stumbling out the side door once more, case in hand. Before he could even ask, beat old Bud to the punch with a 20 and a cigarette. Same as last week, he ducked into the pit and the last thing I heard was Vince swearing. I whistled as I walked back to my shithole building and had some extra pep in my step climbing the stairs to my shithole apartment.

46:47I gently placed the guitar in its stand and gave it a kiss before collapsing onto my bed. From the moment I woke up, it was go time. Whether or not I believe Vince about the friends, I had the pit's undivided attention and wasn't about to let it go. I picked up the guitar and noodled a bit before carving another gash into my arm. this point i could barely feel the cuts only the elation of what they brought i strummed and began to contemplate my set list for the next open mic saturday you know something something else i appreciate about the story is it's very well paced like you can tell from the beginning where it's it kind of wants to go with like oh this guitar is bad i want a different one and then this guitar like gives him this power but it costs blood so you can kind of see that direction and it immediately moves from like the setup to a very quick interlude to him having the guitar to him playing and now the rise to fame at least small town fame um and the pacing of it's very well and i almost feel like if this were a lesser written story i feel like details like this would be the kind of thing me and you would clown on like like you know not not necessarily the guitar blood part because that's cool but say there was like a different instrument based thing and we're like yeah we get it you're good you don't have to spend so much time explaining but because it does such a good job with like the tonation of wrapping you into it and making it feel like you're there it really feels enjoyable rather than like filling the air

48:18Hunter:you know yeah well i mean so far i think that it hasn't also hid it's like tone i think i think sometimes it just feels joying when we're reading these sometimes and it just feels like you are prepped in yourself and you're buying into the idea of like the the theme or flavor of a story and then when it switches suddenly you're kind of like what or like it feels odd this just kind of i mean like this to me is fun and this is up my alley because this is like a b horror film or like a tales from the crypt episode yeah is how i'm reading it so it's just it's campy it's fun i i'm enjoying it so far i think it's cool yeah yeah and not ironically enjoying it like we have to do sometimes.

48:57No. As fun and crowd-pleasing as last night's tracks were, I couldn't repeat them two or three in the case of Stairway to Heaven weeks in a row. I needed three tracks that would count. My mind immediately went to Ozzy Osbourne. Maybe Crazy Train when I'll get the crowd moving and pay fitting tribute to the Prince of Darkness. Free Bird was another that immediately came to mind because I'd always wished I could play it but can never nail the thing. I just needed to think of one more an encore after knocking their socks off with Freebird I have no further information if it is Sweet Child of Mine I'm going to lose my mind I cannot think of another song

49:41Hunter:I'm going to be appalled if it's not that Crazy Train and Freebird are like excellent party pleaser you know loud bar song stuff and so is Sweet Child of Mine so who knows the week leading up was another blur of blood sweat and more blood i counted down the days nothing mattered to me anymore outside of playing and being in tip-top shape for the pit another week of hardly eating the bulk of my nutrition consisting of whiskey beer and cigarettes like i was like i'm gonna be in tip-top shape and he just gets drunk and smokes the whole time that's what you have to do to get in shape man come on another week without leaving my apartment The only light being my dimming living room bulb and the little sunlight let in through my blinds.

50:25Another week with little to no human contact. I did shoot the hippie chick at text, though.

50:30Hunter:Pit on Saturday? Gonna tear it up again. Ah. J.S. You know, I didn't know what the forward slash M backslash wink would be, but you're going, ah, is the perfect. It's gotta be exactly what it was. Yeah. Yo, bring some flowers and some peace times this time, babe. You're going to be fucking, you're going to be so fucking excited. There was the matter of the guitar. While still sounding as immaculate as ever, I noticed it was acting faulty. The sound was sliding from sweet to sour after a few songs. Like the effect was wearing off early. Last, yeah, he needs more blood every time. There we go. Last week, I'd cut myself once or twice and the thing would play like heaven for an entire day.

51:19Now, I'd have to give it a bloody re-up every few songs. My left arm looked terrible, and I'd begun cutting it under my right arm as well. I felt wooziness setting in throughout the days. This was not sustainable. When Friday came around, I was once again a greasy, bloody mess. A thought entered my mind a few times over the course of the week, and it sat in my weary brain as I lay down for bed. The guitar was draining me. I'd play the pit with it one more time and stash it. Use the money for a legit new guitar. Learn my way up from the bottom again. Practice harder. Eliminate the need for the coffin-shaped instrument, as gorgeous as it sounded.

52:01Or I could just keep playing the current guitar. Wow the pit, and then wow the world. I drifted off to sleep after deciding to make that decision tomorrow night. The ding of my phone woke me up. Saturday morning, mere hours until Johnny Sticks rocked the pit again. Another occasion I soon realized as I groggily checked my notifications. The one text year I get from my mom. Happy birthday, John. Miss you. Call you soon, Mommy. The whirlwind of the last couple weeks, I completely forgot about my 27th birthday. Uh-oh. Ruh-roh. I'd grown estranged from my mom in the last several years, getting my own place and getting mixed up in music or rather the skeevier parts of the culture.

52:44She still held out hope that I'd be successful and come back to her though and send me the same message every year on my birthday. Even with call soon in every message, I never did actually call. But the thoughts of my incoming success possessed my fingers to tap out a message.

53:03Hunter:Miss you too. Playing at Pit Bar tonight, John. Showtime in a few hours. it was time to return to the land of the living just like the previous week i choked down some instant ramen and a few beers and took a long steamy shower i could almost pass for a functional person gaunt and pale but alive i ran a brush through my tangled mop of hair quickly dressed in faded jeans and a black sabbath tea and went to pack up my axe the guitar gosh i forgot the story's called the axe wielding oh it's so cool the guitar had this aura about it like it was beckoning to me i picked it up planted a kiss on its deep dark body and gently put it in case cheers to turning the pit upside down i said grabbing a switchblade caked and dried blood off the coffee table and running it across my right forearm the blade bit into my flesh and i gritted my teeth as i pulled it across adding another mark to the slashed up canvas it went deeper than the usual cuts, but the guitar demanded more and more each time.

54:08Blood dripped from the wound, and my instrument lapped it up like a dog on a hot summer day. It was time to go. I wrapped my arm in gauze, slipped on my leather jacket, pocketed the knife, and made for the door. It was a cool fall evening, and I could feel the kiss of a gentle breeze as I walked to the pit. The sky showed the deep red of sunset, a similar color to the strings of my instrument. My mind raced as I walked, wrestling with the dilimidated hand. I felt a bit woozy. I'd given the thing so much blood, and its appetite had grown. My arms were in a perpetual state of pains, both dull and sharp, that no amount of booze or Advil lessened.

54:48I needed to hang up the guitar. God only knows what would happen to me if this continued. I also pondered what my final song of the night would be, and a block before the bar, it hit me. The thoughts dissipated when I arrived at my destination. Word must have gotten out about last week. I had never seen the pit this packed in over a year of open mic Saturdays. All of the stools and tables were filled, and massive bodies conglomerated in the middle of the floor. Some of the regulars leaned against the bar, visibly pissed about their stools being hijacked. Vince was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, slinging drinks and collecting cash, a much-needed cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

55:27It was hotter than hell in there. Stale beer and cigarette reek was almost overpowering, and the chatter was the loudest it had ever been. I scanned the place, looking for any familiar faces. The hippie chick was at her usual table. The fence was in a frenzy. Some of the regulars milled around. From afar, I observed two very out-of-place individuals in the throng. One figure stood out like a sore thumb, being at least a foot taller and several shades paler than everyone else in the bar. His raven colored hair fell to his shoulders and I couldn't help but notice his eyes boring holes into me with a ghastly smile on his face.

56:05That's the guy from the pawn shop, right?

56:07Hunter:Yeah, 100%. I think it's supposed to be like the devil or whatever. Yeah, yeah. I snapped my gaze away from him when I saw someone else in the crowd. Mom? She hadn't noticed me yet. Only two people did, both men with a part in putting this into motion. Vince's voice boomed from behind the bar, quickly shutting down the conversations of merriment. The man of the hour has arrived! Johnny fucking Sticks, get your ass over here, son! Part of the crowd, like the Red Sea, and sidled up to the bar, where Vince had two shots of Jack at the ready. He winked at me, rasped. Break a leg. We downed him. Packed house tonight, as you can see.

56:43People were talking after last week, kid. Vince said, flicking his cigarette butt onto the ground and immediately fishing for another. Gesture to the end of the bar, where a man even more out of place than my mother sat. His short hair must have had an entire tube of gel slicking it back, and his blazer, dress shirt, and slacks clashed with the band tees and tank tops everyone else had on. I studied him, noticing a gold watch and dark, expensive-looking shoes that were no doubt being compromised by the establishment he set in. The guy was probably boiling alive. Vince's voice was low. I told you I know people.

57:17He's a pal of mine, and he's in the biz.

57:20Hunter:But like you did again, we can hook you up. Don't get the fuck up there. Little stage was just beyond the throng of people, and I slowly made my way through. Tall man continued to leer at me, a smile plastered on his face. I could see the hippie chick staring at me with a smile, and I made eye contact with Mom. She looked uncomfortable, squished in the crowd, but forced to smile. I set the guitar down, battled through the mass, and wrapped her in a hug. You made it, I said, slightly out of breath. She chuckled, pulling me deeper into the hug. You couldn't have picked a better place to bring me?

57:55Both laughed and her smile softened to something more genuine.

57:58Hunter:Hey, at least you're spending your birthday with your old mom. Sniffled a bit and stepped back. Yeah. I thought you'd like to see me play. I've gotten pretty damn good. My eyes were a bit misty, but shrugged the emotions off and flashed a wicked smile. She nodded at me and gestured toward the mic. Showtime. Shouldered my way back to the stage and began my setup, slinging the guitar over my shoulder, plugging it into the amp, putting on my best rock god facade and grabbing the microphone. Holy shit, you really turned out tonight. Every eye in the building snapped toward me. I could already feel the rush coming.

58:33Hunter:My name is Johnny Sticks and I have a couple for you tonight. I gave the guitar a strum and put my hand up in a salute. This one's for you, Wazzy. All aboard! This is so you. pretty cringe pretty cringe but I would be doing air guitar though I'd be doing air guitar

58:59I'd be up there doing that you like everything from like the girl to like your mom being like crazy place and you're like yeah this was for you Aussie

59:08Hunter:the only thing that's different the only thing that's different is I would have already told my mom that the hippie chick and me were deeply in love and we were planning to get married this is my this is your future daughter-in-law someone's like what that girl that girl over there she loves me you know that we're gonna have babies and then every time I laugh I do the Aussie laugh in the beginning of crazy train just the

59:32Hunter:get it because I'm about to play crazy train exactly

59:39Hunter:yeah that actually I'd be fucking stoked With my best impression of the famous laugh, I broke into Crazy Train. Within a few notes, the pit was moving. Some people danced. They just tapped their feet. Vince even got a quick moment of response, but was back to it a moment later. I shredded, fingers flying up and down the fretboard with inhuman dexterity, and the sounds coming from the amp clear as a bell. I don't know how. But even my singing voice was affected. I belted out notes. My vocal range had no business hitting. The hippie chick was up and dancing. In perfect tune with the music. My mom bobbed her head.

1:00:26A grin on her face. Vince's slick buddy eyed me with curiosity. The only unmoving figure was Mr. Tall. Grim and pale. Still as a corpse. Staring intently at me and smiling. The guy gave me the creeps, but that feeling was nothing next to the high I felt playing Randy Rhoads' famous riffs. I was hot, sweaty, and slightly woozy, but it didn't matter. I was locked in, and everyone in the pit loved me. I breezed through the solo, hands seemingly moving on their own. The rush consumed me, the feeling intensifying with each note. Drunk on the moment, I finished the song. Outro laced with flair. Thank you.

1:01:12I said in a sarcastically monotone voice. The room erupted. Whistles, hoots, claps, applause of all forms. A pair of women lifted their shirts and blue kisses toward me. Hell yeah. It was pure chaos. The perfect energy of a rowdy, sold out venue. I blew a kiss back and held up the horns. Now, where were we?

1:01:34Hunter:or if you better know this one I hit the first sorry note of Skinner's iconic song and let it ring mayhem died down buckle in I said slowly making my way through the intro free bird was a completely different animal than crazy train but I picked and crooned my way through it with the same finesse slow and soulful sound that had the crowd engaged but less rowdy so I'm offering you for the first time in this podcast to sing freely and you're not taking it and I'm almost kind of offended. I mean, I'm just trying, I'm also trying to engage in the story. If I leave here tomorrow. Some people still danced and moved, but others just stood and took in the music.

1:02:19Truly was a beautiful song and all the more beautiful by the axe and its wielder. Things were about to get rowdy again though. I'd never been able to get this solo down on the even with years of practice, but I trusted the black coffin in my hands to get the job done. The pace of the song was starting to quicken, and room quickened with it. I belted out the vibrato of the final change and ripped into the four-and-a-half-minute solo that had been the bane of my existence, and I was smoking through it. I was on overdrive, fast and precise, at least for the first two-ish minutes. I could feel my hands beginning to cramp up.

1:03:04The wooziness crept back in, and the rush I was riding gave way to a sluggish feeling. A couple notes sounded off. The power and flourish of the solo started to wane. Damn, I soldiered on, doing my best to keep the song on track, but I was flagging, not quite in free fall, but nearing it. Luckily, the crowd was still rocking, not noticing my flubs. I made an executive decision then, segwaying the solo into a simple scale and landing the bird before it crashed my brain was nearing panic mode looking out the cheering crowd i masked it with my best fake smile and another thank you what was i gonna do my mind raced the crowd was going wild i couldn't call it a night yet i just got and started the guitar was thirsty it needed more nourishment fast Hell, I did too.

1:03:56Hunter:I'm getting thirsty. I think we should take a quick breather. It's been two songs. Grab a drink, give old Vince some love. Gesture toward the bar, composure slowly returning. I got another one for you, just in a few. That seemed to satiate them. Now it's time to satiate myself and my instrument. After giving the room a moment to settle, I braved the crowd. To my appreciation, a couple of people leaning against the bar moved to offer up their spots to the night's talent. Vince, per usual, had a shot ready for me. Hell of a set again. He said, grinning ear to ear. Johnny Sticks night needs to be its own thing.

1:04:31I'll be making cash end of a fist. Down the shot and the grimace of my face caught his eye. You alright, kid? I just need a drink and some fresh air. Torch bottle, please. Felt out a 20. Vince pushed my hand away. You should see my tip jar. Twisted the cap and placed it in front of me. Took a sip and looked him in the eye. I'm going to have a quick smoke.

1:04:53Hunter:Reach in the guitar a bit. I nodded in the direction of the side door. Don't let anyone follow me. I just need a bit to clear my head and then I'll be back. Vince nodded. I didn't think I'd have to worry about it anyway. Vince was one of the few owners who still allowed smoking in his bar. And with the turnout in drink sales, he'd probably fight God himself for me if I asked him to. I forced a smile. Just you wait for my next one. Beer in hand, I collected the guitar and made for the door. nodding at mom and winking at the hippie chick on route temperature dropped from earlier welcome feeling on my sweaty brow sip the beer and took a seat against the dumpster tar on my lap man the story's done such a good job of pacing itself in the tone that like i could i could feel the feeling of being in a stuffy room and sweating a bit to stepping out into a cold night air like the the kind of like the the sweat on your brow kind of freezes up a little bit you know right like i feel like I'm there.

1:05:48And it's such a homey, like, personal moment, but, like, I can see the bar, I can see the venue and stuff. It's just, oh, it's so good. I sipped the beer and took a seat against the dumpster. Guitar on my lap. I lit a cigarette and shrugged off my jacket. Both the cold inside of my torn up arms and bloody gauze made me shiver. This whole business was screwed up, but I had to do it. They loved me in there, so I had to give them more. Vince's friend was gonna hook me up. There's no way I could walk away from this now. I produced a switchblade from my pocket and quickly pressed the button. With a deep sigh, I stuck the blade in my arm, ready to give my instrument its fix.

1:06:27Then a voice broke my concentration.

1:06:29Hunter:Can I get a buck or a smoke? Oh. Oh, no. This is going to have to kill somebody. Oh, no. Oh, no. I didn't think the story would go that way. Oh, no. Oh, gosh. Oh, my gosh. Ah, Bud. I had completely forgotten about him. Mangy bastard seemed to materialize from the alley's darkness with a slow approach. When, oh my gosh. Dude, what a cool set. I thought Bud was just set dressing. Just like a cool little tone thrown in whatever to add to like the dungy feeling of the bar. But using him for this now? Oh, how terrible. Man. When he saw me closer, though, he recoiled. I don't blame him. Must have been a hell of a sight.

1:07:13Knife in my arm, blood trickling onto my guitar, a feral look in my eyes. What the? Started. I don't know what possessed me, but I knew what I had to do then. I was going to ascend to rock godhood. Bud was going to continue heckling people for guitars and beer money. No one would miss him. My guitar was thirsty. I pulled the switchblade out of my arm. He shankily took a step back, but I was on it before he could turn tail. With all my strength, I swung the guitar hard at the side of his head, catching him near the jaw with the body. He crumpled like a sack of bricks. I put the guitar on the ground and grabbed Bud by the hair, positioning his head over it.

1:07:57In one movement, I drew the knife across his throat, opening it wide. Blood spurted from the gash and the guitar didn't let a single drop go to waste. After a few agonizingly long moments, the bleeding stopped and Bud breathed his last. And the guitar never looked more radiant. In the heat of the moment, I hadn't considered what to do now. Someone was going to find him. Can't attribute a slit throat and massive blood loss to alcohol poisoning or exposure. I decided the dumpster was the safest bet. I flipped it open and grabbed Bud's body by the shoulders, ready to hoist it up when I heard the sound of clapping behind me.

1:08:36My fight or flight went off and I dropped the body to the ground. Whirled around to see the tall gentleman, the man who traded me the guitar, and motionlessly smiled through its plane. He brought his hands together slowly, an amused look on his face. He was laughing. I had no idea what his deal was, but he didn't seem fazed. I decided to take a gamble. I highly doubted he was going to spread any gossip or go to the police.

1:09:03Hunter:You just going to stand there and laugh or are you going to help me? I like how cool he is with it immediately. Yeah. You know? Yeah. I pointed at Bud, lifeless against the dumpster. That only made the man laugh harder. Fuck. Grunted under my breath before returning to my grim task. Believe it or not, he actually did step in. For a homeless dude who lived on a cheap beer and cigarettes, Bud was surprisingly heavy. Got him off the ground and unceremoniously pushed him into the dumpster. For a second, I actually felt something for the guy. thinking of all the cigarettes and dollars I'd given him since first coming to the pit.

1:09:41And his sacrifice was what was going to give me my break. Poured out the rest of my cores to his memory. Not the best tribute, I'll admit. Should have been a Bud Light. Oh, man. I slumped against the dumpster again, panting. The pale gentleman stared down at me, the amused look not leaving his face. He offered me a hand. she's a beautiful ain't she gesture to the guitar get up mr sticks the show must go on relit my cigarette with a lighter somehow wider than he was oh yeah the whole white lighter thing for the 27 club i took one more moment to breathe deep calm myself from what had just happened and i picked up the guitar and didn't look back man held the door open and whispered bring a leg as i stepped back into the hot sticky bar that was going to be the birthplace of my legend.

1:10:35Felt like I was outside for hours, but in reality, only about 15 or 20 minutes had passed. Pit was how it was when I left it. People drinking and shooting the shit, eagerly awaiting the next song. Mom was chatting with a couple people near her. The hippie chick was on her phone again. Vince was lighting yet another cigarette. And I was back, and it was showtime again. The guitar had a glow to it, and I could feel the rush coming back. But we didn't drink too much without me, I said, taking my place in front of the mic. Everybody stopped what they were doing and shifted their attention.

1:11:09Hunter:Intermission's over. I got one more for you, scanned the crowd, catching a few eyes. I treat me good enough and I may have a few more. Outwarranted applause, Vince whispered something into his biz pal's ear and had their attention, commanded the room. I felt like a rock star. I thought long and hard about what to follow Freebird with. The week leading up saw me trying out several different songs, but nothing seemed to mesh how I wanted it. But the perfect song came to me moments before I entered the pit, where this life-changing night began. Any of you find people hear of a fella named Charlie Daniels?

1:11:44Hunter:Uh, okay. Well, yeah, duh. That has to be the song, right? Right, right. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Duh. I can feel a surge of energy in the room. Well, what I'm about to play is pretty fitting. because my name is Johnny. Johnny fucking sticks.

1:12:03That's pretty. That's so cool. I didn't even make the Johnny connection to it earlier. That's fine. That's so fun. I gave the guitar a strum ready to break the tension and make my fans go wild. Then I broke into the song and the pit was thrown once more into glorious mayhem. My guitar is sounding sweeter than the devil's golden fiddle. My name is Johnny sticks. I'm 27 years young and about to take the first steps to stardom. Me and my trusty axe are going to take over the world. I just have to quench its thirst every so often.

1:12:36Hunter:And that is the end of the axe wielder. You know, it's a fun little story. I think that for people that know of the 27 Club, I think it's a really fun payoff. I think that even if you don't know about it, I think it's just like a fun, quick, I cannot emphasize how much this feels like a Tales from the Crypt episode. But Isaiah, while you were reading, sometimes I was a little late because I have a couple thoughts. A few thoughts indeed. One, I will say before you get into actual thoughts, I will say one of my favorite parts about the story is the way the atmosphere was written and the pacing, like I mentioned, just wanted to highlight that, but go ahead.

1:13:15Hunter:And this is all coming from a place of, one, let me just say the things I liked about it, which the things I liked about it were you know because there was there's a lot of you know cringe shit of of him you know being like you guys you know uh just the way that he was approaching on stage his character some cringy moments but it felt warranted because it's a guy pretending to be a rock star right i i get that um and you know it was it has it has comedic campy tone so i like that so this is some thoughts i had one should um should his performance have like not that i like this idea of like it was all a dream but should the perception of what he perceived versus reality been skewed this idea of like one you're going to a place you're playing three songs and people are like yeah you know there's not really a it's i didn't know if it was like a captivating spell that just had people kind of like under their head and like, you know, wrapped around his finger a bit.

1:14:16Hunter:Or if, you know, I mean, he's not even playing his own songs. He's playing covers. So it's like, is this a thing where he thinks he's like killing and the devil is giving you the perception that you are like fucking murdering on stage and it's just kind of like living in delusion? Is that, you know what I mean? I think it's more so your original idea you had where you're like, what if this is like a spell? Yeah. You know, because it seems like things that he would be quote unquote imagining were literally happening. Like the music producer being there and his mom coming and the hippie chick and giving her his number and all that.

1:14:54I mean, there is a world where he's imagining it, but I think it's more so people are spellbound. Yeah.

1:14:59Hunter:Well, I mean, the only reason I say that too is because there's a couple lines in here where I was like, what? He plays two songs and he's like, all right, guys, you're going to take a break. anyone in the real world which whatever we're living in a fantasy thing would be like what you just play like in total he probably played 17 minutes of music there were two songs one of them's a 13 minute long song or whatever um and then this other thing too that i thought was interesting is when he said don't let anyone follow me outside he's played one other night here that is was good and now tonight he's played two songs and then he stopped it's not that it's like totally unfathomable but i like this idea if the if the story was a little longer this is kind of where my my um thoughts start coming in is you have more of an ability if the story's longer to really flesh out this idea of uh like maybe he has people noticing him on the streets these things these like was it grandeur like delusions of grandeur is kind of what the devil is selling him on is like sure whatever you can it's like fucking almost making a deal with a shinigami or something yeah you can see what day you die but it cuts your life in half or something is there some kind of parallel there that's interesting because i do like the angle of the little shop of horrors of well to keep this dream alive i gotta feed people to this thing you know i got it i it has to have more and more blood until it becomes so big that it's like well it's not just like one body it's a couple dead people and a couple dead people turns into like a couple dozen you know yada i think that's cool and i think there could have been more time for that and um which also led me to think to also i'm just kind of rambling but the other one is too is when the devil popped up at the end i do like this uh i like that he had like that relationship with him where that was just kind of like where are you gonna fucking help me you know i thought that was kind of cool and i think like i'm go back to the guitar center thing if his buddy this guy they knew at the guitar center thing that was always trying to sell him on new shit or something was the devil and the devil worked at like a guitar center i felt like that would have been of fun angle of just like bringing that thing back in of like this this entity that you have a past relationship with to where you could be that casual and cordial with them i think could have been fun and then the last couple thoughts i have was maybe even having like a full band and that he is like feeding the band or like basically becoming egotistical in a way where he's killing off members of his band and it's becoming the hymn show you know like oh well this is all about me now and he could actually feed his band member stories like i don't fucking need them um and then my last biggest gripe is that the charlie daniels went down a georgia song is a fiddle song it's not a guitar song yeah but you've heard the okay that that one yes but i'll hear all your others but it's but it's but have you ever heard a rock cover have you ever heard a rock cover okay still but still i just want to say the whole thing was it was it's a fiddle just want to say it's a fiddle yeah but the story is the golden fiddle story yes yes yes i get it i get it but still that okay all your other stuff totally for that one i feel like you're being a little so i was like wrapping it on i will say the the golden fiddle thing or even just making about like a thing of like a weird honky-tonk bar would have been sick too if it if he was a fiddle player that would have been sick too um okay the the whole so i'll talk for a second uh the i've i really like your idea about if this was a longer story because i get why you wouldn't do it in a short version because that's a lot of character dynamics you have to add and stuff like that but yeah if this was a longer story i like the idea of him killing off his band members to do it because it's like a very literal interpretation of like you know getting pushing other people down and get to fame yep yep uh i love how bud set up kind of like like it's just an outcast at the beginning this world setting then he comes back in the end as the victim who gives him this final push.

1:18:51Um, and it kind of ends with like him on top of the world. But I mean, in the grand scheme of things, the world is a sold out dive bar, not even sold out. Just people showed up to hear him play. Right. So it's like, this is almost like the introduction to a greater story about Johnny sticks. Right. Um, so I, I really liked the donation. It feels like an urban legend, you know, like a lot of cryptid stories will start with, Oh, well this creature broke out of a lab and he's out there to this day. And then that gives you kind of the leeway to make whatever stories you want about where he is now.

1:19:24Um, similarly, it's like Johnny stacks, uh, is out there anywhere now. Like you could almost make up a legend like, oh, and then he changed his name to Ozzy Osbourne or he's some up and coming star or whatever. Right. Like this seems like the introduction to a whole slew of urban legends. And I think that's really cool. And I like it. I really liked the part that you highlighted where he sees the devil who all of this is so weird, but he can put all the weirdness away for the sake of fame to the point when he's laughing at him throwing Bud's body in the trash. He's like, can you help me? Um, that's a really cool note.

1:19:59Uh, it just, gosh, I just loved, uh, I love the pacing. I love the way the world building wasn't stuff. It was just such a fun story.

1:20:05Hunter:Yeah. And I, and I want to reiterate too. I liked it a lot too. These are just like final thoughts and just being like, it made me be like, Oh, this would be fun this would be fun but but all in all really enjoyed this setup and stuff also too we don't get a lot of like fun campy stories about like just like the almost like these tropey kind of fun tales of like like a uh fucking uh robert johnson kind of uh character of like selling your soul to the devil for like guitar fame or something i i think it's fun i think that uh Once again, just as like certain thoughts or even just things to think about if the author was listening to this or something or just for the sake of conversation is just I like I love when stories take because I love rock and metal stuff.

1:20:53Hunter:And it is so not necessarily lame, but like it is not pop culture anymore in terms of like what younger kids like and stuff. That isn't to say that not a lot of people don't like it because they do. but I just mean, I love this idea of in your mind, you are playing to, and you're a version of heaven, which is so true to so many people who are like in a band or trying to start out is just playing a packed gig. And this idea that a guy would like literally kill someone just to play to a packed bar is so like true in terms of people being like, fuck, I just want that so bad that I love the idea of like, even him being like, there's these girls who are like hippie chicks or like fucking, you know, younger kids who are like, Whoa, he's playing.

1:21:35Hunter:stairway to heaven or free bird which is like hilarious I think that's funny is just like just this perception in his head and he's just like fucking like he looks like a total badass I'm Johnny fucking sticks and he's like doing the finger gun in the mirror but then he goes on stage and he's like tread marks all of his fucking arms his shirt's all bloody his eyes are all like shot and stuff but it's like it is mine though this is fucking epic I'm like transported back to 1986 at the fucking whiskey a go-go on sunset boulevard in la or something you know it's like i i i think that that that could be just a really fun taken but all in all it was just fun also to just like a really digestible easy story if you said this guy's written more stuff it'd be fun to see if he's written anything longer or if they are these bite-sized things maybe next time we can read a couple of them yeah he's done uh i would be i would love to hit this guy up again for more stuff uh let me get his where did that i had it there it is um and also just a story being called the axe wielder so cool once again we'll have walkers be witching hour on um the uh on reddit and also his actual name is brett h uh and again he's got five other stories that you guys should definitely check out because I would like to see this guy write more.

1:23:01And personally, I would like to cover more stuff he's done. It seems like most of them are about this size. A couple shorter ones. But yeah, it seems the others are this size. But yeah, this dude, Brett, keep writing, dude. This was awesome. I really enjoyed it. It was a lot of fun. And you would certainly have a talent in the way you are describing certain details. And like, there's your world building. It's really good. I felt like I was there. So yeah, keep writing stuff, please.

1:23:30Hunter:Yeah, I really like that you could very clearly tell that this guy, you can tell he likes the music. You can tell it's just like an interest. I like when people put their interest, whether it be universal or not, into a story and you can just like feel that through. And I think that's fun. Like even just the whole Robert Johnson thing tacked in with just like songs that usually people play when they're starting guitar and then mixed in with like the 27 Club, which also that's one thing I like too is he never mentioned the 27 Club. So it's like if you know, you know. but if not yeah it is what it is but i do think uh just a lot of fun really enjoyed this one i know people really usually really like these super long episodes but i will say when we're reading these episodes when we're reading these stories it's really nice when there's a story that's like this concise this kind of punchy and fun and it feels like you uh it like it feels like very uh energizing you know versus sometimes you get through we're three hours into a story and all of a sudden it's just like oh the oreo man showed up and you're like oh my god oh shit like yeah yeah so it was fun but thank you so much guys for watching this week's episode if you want to support the channel feel free to sign up to the patreon it helps us out and also there's bonus content there also uh if you listen to this on spotify or apple podcast be sure to give us a nice rating and until next time guys stay creeped and also go submit stories to tales on the creeps it's there for you do it yeah check out check out brett in the description and also So to everyone who complains that I don't let Hunter sing enough, well, this was his time to do that.

1:24:56So if he didn't sing enough, that's his fault, and I never want him to do it again. So, yeah, blame him. Bye.

1:25:06She's got a smile that it seems to me reminds me of childhood memories where everything was as fresh as a bright blue sky. Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long I probably break down and cry Whoa, sweet child of mine Whoa, ow, ow, ow Sweet love of mine

1:25:45Hunter:Fucking tons of chicks grabbing at me Do do do do do do do fucking tons people give me