Oh Boy, I love these headlines "Dwarf Woman Killed Trying To Aid Friend." Good omen, I think, tossing aside the local paper. The Eat are playing tonight. Dwarfs should never get into fights. Strapping on my Patti Smith watch I retch. Why did she hafta marry Fred 'Sonic' Smith? Fred's about as sonic as a Chevette. I need the Eat tonight. The rock world is crumbling. A quick call to Chris Cottie, the Eat drummer, checking to see if me and Cookie are on the guest list. "Get off this fucking phone. I can pay no more. There's a conspiracy." Click. The line goes dead.

What the hell? Conspiracy? Jees, the Eat and their political bull- shit. Oh well, I'll try Pepe's house. Gotta make the guest list. "My uncle has a green pencil box..." Aw, come on Eddie, cut the crap. "Fish, is that you?"

"Eddie, what fucking conspiracy? and can me and Cookie be on the guest list?” I wait and the mood of danger is thick, man.

"Fish. The Queers of Egypt. No shit. This line could be tapped. Meet me and Glen at the 1-95 Dennys. We may not play. See ya in an hour." Click.

"What is this shit?" She appears in the rug pullover and striped dress. "Cookie, man something is going on. That was Eddie on the phone. He said the Queers of Egypt, and they might not play. We have to meet him and Glen at the R & R Dennys. What do you think?"

She's so cute when she pouts. "You don't care what I think. I'm tired and I just wanna sleep. No hair brained schemes. Let's just go see the band play." Cookie can be difficult. But she puts on her fish-nets as we skid down 1-95 to the rendevous. The girl loves a mystery. We park and go inside. We spot two seedy looking guys in wrap around shades, but they turn out to be Cuban fry cooks. Eddie and Glen are in the last booth. Glen's shirt is blinding, as usual.

"Ok, what is this shit? Is there a guest list and are we...?" "Sit down" snaps Glen. "and shut up." Mr. nice guy.

"Fish", Eddie's real nervous, "There really are Queers of Egypt. It's a terrorist splinter group. They're gonna sabotage the gig tonight. We got threats in the mail. They sound like they mean business. Pepe's hysterical. We wanted a second opinion."

Cookie yawns. "I'd be more afraid of Violent Love and the Dead Whores. Nobody's gonna fuck wid yous guys. Come on, Eddie. Gas is expensive. I wanna sleep before the Eat goes on."

Glen toys with his Denny's coffee. "In the best interest of our fans and being Socratically concerned, we feel, and I think I speak for all of us at Giggling Hitler Inc. when I say this, that it is our duty to warn our fans of possible terrorist tactics that could possibly be perpetrated on or against said fans. Got it?"

The boy amazes me with his verbosity. "Cut the legal lingo. Glen Cat. Is the gig off or what? A lot of people are gonna go to bed disappointed tonite if its cancelled. Who are these Queers of Egypt?"

Cookie stops eating catsup. "So what? The Queers of Egypt is probably Scott the Lutheran. It sounds right up his alley. Who cares if the 'fans' see bloodshed. It's punk. They're all pussys." Eddie cuts her off in mid-tirade. "The Eat have always regarded the masses as the moving spirit in rock and roll. Like Engels said "for every thesis there is an antithesis; maybe we're the punk antithesis. We don't want trouble for the crowd. On the other hand crowd control is anathma to the Eat. This is a highly complex, contradictory situation." Cookie takes the napkin outa her mouth. "Sounds like socialist double talk to me."

I light her cigarette; "Shut up, ass-hole. Eddie has a point." Eddie, what does Michael have to say about it?"

"Good question. He found the first terrorist threat in his McChickin sandwich at work."

"No shitski," I gasp. "The Queers of Egypt have infiltrated McDee's!!! This could be a national covert operation. Well, tell us where we fit into the scheme." Eddie's giving us the near legendary Obrien cynical sneer. "We thought you girls, trendies that you are, could contact the punk contingent, feel them out about the possible dangers involved, and make sure everyone shows up. Fuck, we need the Money, cause the Fake National Tour really set us back."

"You fucking capitalist," I howl. I love it. You really had me going for a minute, there. Are we on the guest list?"

"It's a tough game" says Glen. "Go make some calls."

Later on, driving around, we try and draw some conclusions. "Who we gonna call. Fish, we don't know anybodys number, and so what? You want a Diet Pepsi?" I light her cigarette. "Get your mind off of my oral fixation for a minute, can ya? Maybe we should go over to Open Records and see if Leslie knows anything about the Queers of Egypt. She hears about everything."

My Diet Pepsi is getting my pants wet. Listen Cookie. Give this some thought. Maybe the Queers of Egypt are a South American baseball team. What do you say? They got a lot of bush league teams in Caracas. You know how into sports the Eat are. Fanatics, man. I can picture some obscure little team trying to dream up publicity and what better band to pick on than the Eat? Sports and rock and roll are so muy grande Amerikana."

Cookie just misses hitting the car in front of us. "I was just tellin someone the other day how profound you are. Now I just think you're crazy. A baseball team named Queers of Egypt??! You're certifiable, you know. I'm not going to Open cause I end up spending money I don't have. We should call Eric Moss and ask him. Point me to a phone booth."

Oakland Park Blvd. is no fun at six in the evening, choked with cars and carbon monoxide. The phone booth has a lizard in it. "Hi, Eric? It's me. Fish. Who are the Queers of Egypt? Is there a conspiracy? Do you anticipate trouble?"

Eric's a cool customer. "Fish, calm down. Is Cookie with you? Put her on the line."

She starts the conversation right off with a 'fuck you, Eric' so I know he must be telling her how cute she is. I lose interest in them quick and concentrate on a familiar face shuffling along the blvd. Scott the Lutheran. I wish someone would go into an epileptic fit, cause I thrill to the way this male nurse takes charge. "Hey, Scott, seen any good kiddie porn lately? I want the truth, bubba. Who or what are these Queers of Egypt? Yippy dissadents, commie splinters, seal savers or what?" He gives me a sly, knowing look.

"Fish. Why do you always assume I hold the kup to the kingdom? I'm into hair transplants now, and you know it. You're such a spiritual being that I find it difficult to corelate your split personality. As a matter of fact, the Queers of Egypt are a religious faction. They combine the best of Zoarasterism and the Jehova's Witnesses. They are a non-violent sect who worship Mary Baker Eddy as their guru and they only eat at McDonalds. Very high people, actually. Are you going to see the Eat tonight?"

I get up off the side walk and try to gather my wits. "Aw, Scott, you're my favorite. Yeah, see you there tonight." I hang up the phone on Cookie and we jump in the Dodge Vegg-a-mattic. "Cooks, everything is cool. All is made clear; lets get on down to the Eat's concert." She scowls and drives the car.

Hours later, after multiple stops, we arrive at the Sperm of the Moment bar and grill. David and Ricky, the Eat sound guys are wrestling the equipment out of the cars. Michael Obrien is hanging out. "Hey Mike, the crowd looks good. Are we on the guest list? We heard about the McChicken sandwich caper." It's hard to fluster Michael.

"Yeah. How was I to know that the Queers of Egypt pass their literature in sandwiches? Naturally I figured on some kind of conspiracy. Hey, I watched all those soap operas for a year, you know. You can start playing games in your head. Sure, you're on the list." He sips off his bud. Eddie, Glen and Chris wander up.

"Cookie, the sleeve of your dress is falling off," says Chris. "So what?" snaps Cookie. Same old shit. "Eddie, Glen, did we do good? No conspiracy or terrorists. Just some good ole time religion," I comment. "Well, this is the 80's, girls," says Eddie. "Fiction is always stranger than truth."

Cookie cracks this egg wide open. "Hey Eddie, tell me the truth; why do you play rock and roll?"

All of the Eat look at us as though we were diseased. Eddie sucks his cigarette. "There's nothing else, now, is there? So many people only get exposed to TV, and TV is heavily censored. They can't censor my rock and roll. It's the last free-form art. Even if nobody listens you can still play what you want. Play it loud and fast. Rock and roll is the alternative to all the day to day bullshit."

Michael sighs "It's the best rush I've found so far." Glen and Chris head for the club door. Glen tosses back over his shoulder "It's the only thing that makes sense anymore."

They all disappear through the door. I nudge Cookie in the arm. "Why didn't you ask Chris that question? Nobody ever asks Chris nuthin. I hung at a bar the other night with him and he analyzed every band to a tee."

"So what?" snaps Cookie.