The Poison Tour Diary via Metal Sludge

Date June 21, 2001 / 436 reads / No comments yet

"Pyro Pam"

Good morning diary, or good afternoon, depending on what time zone this is. We are on submarine duty right now. For the uninitiated, that means a long dark ride all night for a long, long time in a tour bus. It is close to a 1,000 mile run from Scranton, P.A. to Green Bay, Wisconsin. Some day off! This is hell week as far as long travel times for the tour. We had to route the tour around a few special events and the result is near 1,000 mile runs. No big whoop, coffee talk and some extra sleep isn't all bad. Except for the drivers! They are quite the troopers. Our man Mikey has periodically played guitar for Gregg Almond. In a few words, Mikey "Gets it" when it comes to understanding a rock band's quirks and complications. This is quite bonus as the guy we had last year was a grumpy fucker.

I have the new Rolling Stone with Angelina Jolie on the cover in front of me. Wow! I don't think it's healthy for me to be that attracted to someone. I'm thinking it might be a good idea to put a hit contract out on Billy Bob. I don't care if he's a good actor. He has my woman that fucker! Billy Bob, the Vint Drum Mafia is after your ass!

I unleashed on Warrant's tour manager last night pre show. A point had to be made, but I do think I was a little harsh and need to apologize just a little in the way that I handled it. I guess I still have a bit of Pennsylvania redneck in me from time to time. I won't go into it as it really doesn't have any real bearing on anything majorly important. I suppose I owe ya a drink or somethin'. And no, Fuckazo had no part in it.

Manchester, N.H. was a great show. The crowd was awesome! The gig itself sucked, but the stage was nice. Dressing rooms were all but nonexistent and the local security seemed to be very confused about their roll in all of this. The local guys sent two slammin' chicks who wanted to have a threesome with me off to the parking lot. What fuck heads those dudes were! Girls, please, next time I'm chaining you to the tour bus so they can't take you away from me! Another Rikki Near Miss.

Back to Angelina again for a sec. Can you guys imagine what it would be like to get a B.J. from her? That would be a gift from the Gods. Yeah, I know, file that under "Never gonna happen!"

Wonder Woman was in N.H. I can't help but to get an ear to ear smile when I see her out there. Wonder Woman, a former power lifter who is a WWF version of Fran Drescher with the accent to go along with it. She says to me after the show with the exact tone of the chick in the movie Goodfellas, "When I saw ya playing tonight, I gotta admit the truth, it kinda turned me on." She asked me to find her a husband that wouldn't mind me being her side dish. I've been asked worse things.

My wiccan friends were there too and when we play Boston in a few weeks, I'm going to Salem for the day. They protect me from evil. Well, sometimes. Get ready Mikki, I need some blessed thistle or I can't go on.

It's raining like a mofo right now. Great traveling weather. Not!

O.K., Scranton, PA. Another kinda home town gig. My folks were there as were many members of Bret's family as well. In fact, this whole tour has had members of Bret's family. Let's put it mildly, Bret didn't care much for rubbers in the early days.

What an awesome night. Really fun show. We replaced "Rock N' Roll All Night" with "Let It Play" and for not playing it for a whole year, it sounded pretty right on. After show was huge and I was scared stiff that the chick who bit me last year was gonna show up. She didn't, thank the Lord. My punky Vegan girls from D.C. showed up and many old and new friends. Every thing was going just fine, until...

That's right, it's time for a story...
Earlier that night...

Bret stayed on the bus. It was a small dressing room last night and besides Bret's weekly shower, Bret decided to go through his pre and post show ritual on the bus. That left me with the whole dressing room to myself. C.C., Bobby and hired gun keyboardist, Philadelphia Charlie were in the room next to me. With the exception of the occasional visit from wardrobe girl Janna, I was pretty much alone with my thoughts. When I'm alone, I do actually think a bit and those thoughts are sometimes bad. Kinda like my Billy Bob hit contract fantasy. Anyway, it was about 20 minutes to show time and just outside my window I can see where Warrant has their little meet 'n greet set up. No Warrant members are yet in sight, so I open the thing and decide to check out the posse of opening act guests waiting to meet the fellas. Some dude rushes over and asks me to sign his ticket stub and this stunning little female spys me too as I peek out the port hole like a bad three stooges skit. "Where are you from?" I ask her. "Jersey", she responds. "New Jersey?" I try to confirm. "No, I'm from New Hampshire, I want your jersey. Ya know, that red hockey type one. Can I have yours?" "What will you do for it?" I ask. "Anything," she sez. "Anything?" I ask. "Anything", she sez again in lower and now sexy tone. I'm now thinking to myself, hmmm, I am a little hyper tonight, maybe getting a little protein deficient before the show may calm down this overactive drummer just a little. "Hop through this here window real quick sweetie and let's see if we can arrange something", I insist. She first straddles the window sill exposing her tan lithe legs, a little tribal tattoo band surrounds her sexy ankle and I can see she has a pair of red victoria secret type thongs on under her red skirt. She ducks and throws the other leg around. I grab her hand and help her inside my little rock On roll fortress. "I have to pee", she says. "Go ahead, I say, the can is right over there. Don't mind the mess. And don't steal anything. I know where everything is." I say. She looks at me with a confused expression and ventures inside. After a few minutes, I hear what sounds like an electric razor turning on except that I don't own one. The door swings open and my guest has stripped down to the skin holding a four inch mini-dildo with a remote control. "Watch this!" she sez. With the the greatest of ease, the little dong disappears into her vaginal vacuum. The buzzing now muffled by her vaginal prowess she commands it. In and out and in and out. She is controlling the movement with her cootchie muscles. "Quite impressive!" I say out loud. "Wanna try it?" She asks. "Umm, no, not really" I say. "Come on feel the noise!" She sings and laughs. "Girls, rock your boys!" She keeps laughing. "This is cute, but I really can't see how that thing would do me any good," I say. "Here, let me put it up your ass." "Nope, I don't think so sweetie. I don't go for stuff up my ass." I reply. "Ahh, come on baby. Let's get wild, wild, wild!" She sings and laughs even more. "Are ya sure you don't want to perform this for the Warrant guys?" I ask. "They might like stuff up their ass." "Naw," she sez in between gasps for air. "I'm more of a Quiet Riot girl." She goes on. At this point I'm ready to burst out laughing at the notion of Frankie Banali getting a corded four incher remotely controlled up his ass by a five foot two, ninety some pound chick. Now that would be a good pic for his Ludwig endorsement! Or better yet, the cover for the Quiet Riot single, "Feel The Pain." "So, why were ya in the Warrant area then?" I ask. "Oh, umm, the drummer, ya know, the guy that looks like a vampire? I think it was him that gave me a pass." "So, you wanna meet the Quiet Riot fellas? They are nice guys." I say hoping to get the nut case out of my room. "Yeah, I kinda do want to meet 'em" She replies. "O.K., by the way, what is your name? We haven't been formally introduced." "Pamela." She informs me. She extends her hand out and I realize at that moment that I am introducing myself to a naked chick with a vibrator up her kitty that is now turned up to eleven. No big deal to her! At this point, I also realize that I have about ten minutes till show time and I shudder to think about competing with an electric cyborg dick anyway. Call me insecure, but she is waaay too comfortable with this thing. The proper etiquette is to pawn her off on Quiet Riot. "O.K., Pam, let's go ahead on out. I'll have one of our security guys take you over to meet Quiet Riot." I tell her.

She stays still and sez, "Not yet. Rikki, do you know what C-4 is?" "C-4? Yeah, it's an explosive. Why?" I answer. "Well, Rikki, this little 'ol vibrator has about an ounce of C-4 in it." (That's about the equivalent of a hand grenade for those of you who are explosive challenged.) She goes on, "I can detonate it from this little remote control of mine." (O.K., I get it. Here we have Pyro Pam with C-4 in her dildo. Here we go with another fuckin looney tune.) "How does it detonate?" I ask. "An electric match. It's wired to the number 5 position on the remote. It only takes a little AA battery to fire it." (O.K., this bitch actually knows what she is talking about, and in spite of the half assed smile on her face, I'm kinda getting nervous about now. I mean, what do you say to that?) "Pamela, if that is true, why would you possibly kill me, and most defiantly kill yourself?" "Oh, I won't actually do it." She sez nonchalantly. "I just like the feeling of knowing that I can control my situation. If I can't cope, I can go bye, byes and so can you!" (I've met a few unstable people in my time, but this is taking the cake.)

I pick up the bands walkie talkie off the catering table. I calmly talk into the mic. "Smoothie, we have a situation here! Please get your ass in here and in here now!" A bead of sweet rolls down my forehead and Pamela notices. "I got ya nervous, huh? God, that is so fuckin' sexy to me!" she says as she leans back in obvious looney tune ecstasy. Smoothie's voice comes over the walkie speaker. "Whats up Rikki? Not ready yet? Need another tune to roll before the show for some extra time?" "Don't fuckin' answer that, Rikki" Pamela demands in a postal kind of way. "If you do, I simply roll this switch to the magic number five position." "O.K., O.K., I won't," I respond with an obvious twitch in my voice. "Fuckin' A this is sexy!" Pamela is now looking like she's on an acid trip and pumping the vibrator as fast as she can go. "Tell me how scared you are you little fuck!" She snipes at me. "Really scared" I say. (What else am I gonna say?) "Ooohhh, fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Pamela is now heaving her small breasts in the air. Nipples erect and her veins start to rise to the surface of her skin as she begins to shake with an electric orgasm. "Rikki! Rikki!" Johnny Smoothe's voice now rifling over the radio. "Are you there?" "If you touch that radio I swear I'll pop this fuckin' match!" Pyro girl sez with the authority of a prison guard. "I wouldn't dream of it." I say as I'm sure she has noticed my visibly shaken stutter.

Bam! The door opens. Johnny Smooth appears. "Rikki, I see you have some fun goin' on here, but you really need to get ready and on stage in a few minutes." "Johhny, she has a bomb in her pussy!" I say. "Is that what they call those vibrators here in Pennsylvania?" Johhny Smooth asks. "No, Johnny, it's C-4!" I implore. "C-4? Is that the model? I really don't know much about vibrators." Johnny continues. "Johnny, it's explosive!" I ramble as fast as I can. "Yeah," he laughs, "that sounds pretty cool, but maybe save it till after the show. You only have like five minutes." Johhny is obviously oblivious to my perils. "Let's get going here, Rikki. Besides, Bret needs Janna to Fabreeze his wooly mammoth jacket real fast and the jacket is in here." Now Robo bursts in the door with his face as pink as a Christmas ham from a tension headache. "Rikki! Robo draws in his southern accent. Let's get fuckin' rollin', bud. We only have a few minutes till show time." "Rob, she has a vibrator filled with C-4 and a electric ma..." My words get cut off as Bret starts yelling over the walkie talkie. "Will some one please bring me my fuckin' wooly mammoth jacket! I gotta get ready!" Understand folks, there are three walkie talkies in the room at this point all turned up to ten and Bret's command sounds like a chorus in a Morbid Angel song. Bret continues on ten, "Janna, please fabreeze that fuckin' wooly mammoth jacket! It smells like Big John wore it or somethin!" (A peculiar thought passes as I wonder for just one moment if Jerry Dixon has to fabreeze his eyebrows as they are about as hairy as Bret's wooly mammoth jacket!)

Now Janna pipes in over the walkie, "Rikki stopped me from getting in the dressing room, it's not my fault that the wooly mammoth jacket isn't fabreezed yet!" Now Robo starts in on me, "Rikki, did you lock Janna out so me she couldn't get Bret's wooly mammoth jacket?" "Fuck his white wooly mammoth jacket, I exclaim, this fuckin' chick has a bomb in her pussy!" Bobby, who makes fun of just about every situation, obviously hears all this peril and starts singing in the walkie talkies to the tune of The Breeze. "They call Janna Fabreeze, she just sprays down all the clothes, da, da, duh, da, da!"

"You stupid fucks, I yell, if she switches to five, we are all fucked!" (Mind you, the walkie talkies have five knob settings. Number five happens to be the channel for our pyro crew) Robo, obviously being the utmost ass right now, switches the walkie to position number five and yells, "Hey Hammer! (Hammer is our pyro crew chief) Bret needs his wooly mammoth jacket!" Hammer responds, "Yeah, and I need my fuckin' dick sucked, what do you want Rob? I have work to do!" "Yeah, that's it, I say, get Hammer in here to disengage the bomb! He's knows about stuff like this! He's a pyro guy!"

About now, Mark Hogue, our production manager chimes in on the radio. Mark feels that it is his responsibility to curb all Poison problems as they happen. Mark barks out commands like a drill instructor, "Look Janna! Fabreeze the wooly mammoth jacket. Robo, get the hell out there and deal with the photo passes. Smoothie, get your ass on that stage and do the security meeting before the show! And Rikki... For the love of God, try and have fun after the show, not five minutes before you go on! And besides, have a little frickin' courtesy for Warrant's guests! Geez, I can't even watch a race without Poison drama!"

Is no one getting this? O.K., I fucked up! I got a little bored pre show, but this might be a serious thing here! "Now Bret starts in on me again, "Rikki! Let Janna in to spray the fuckin' jacket! What is your problem?" Now I grab the radio, "Bret, this is Rikki! I don't wanna hear your shit after you left your mother sitting in the pavilion all day. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be wearing leg warmers from The Litton's Exxon Rock Shop! I have a chick with a bomb in her one eye!" "Fuck you and your bomb bitch!" Bret pops the words in fast, "Leave my mother out of this too! The poor woman hasn't digested a decent meal in six weeks!"

During all this banter, it appears that no one has noticed that Pyro Pam has disappeared out the window from which she came. I turn to look towards the window, the curtains are simply flapping in the pulsing wind. "Where did she go?" I ask in a stunned voice. "She bolted, Janna explains, I guess so anyway." Now Carrie, our production assistant walks in. Carrie is a blonde, svelte little thing who everyone on the tour wishes they could bang. She is quite sweet, but couldn't give a shit about anything more than getting her job done. (I tend to be overly protective of Carrie and I'd probably beat someone's head in if they tried to touch her.) Carrie calmly ignores the chaos as she usually does, looks around the room and sez, "If any of you see some chick running around with a vibrator, please send her back to Hammer before the show." A chorus of "Huhs?" resonate in tandem around the room like dolby surround sound. Carrie looks puzzled at this display of voicings and simply walks out of the room, shaking her head. Seconds later, we hear Carrie, slightly muffled as she ascends back toward the production office, "Oh, there is the little bitch! Never mind guys!" She yells. Calmly yells, of course.

Bam! Bam! Bam! No, not an explosion. Pyro Pam is pounding on Quiet Riot's dressing room door with a piece of lumber. "Open the fuck up!" She is screaming. Robo rips towards her, "Stop it! Those guys left already!" "Left?" She asks. "Yeah, gone". Robo confirms. "Hey, you like bombs dude?" Pam asks. Still standing naked with a wire coming out of her coochie. "Holy shit! You are a nut aren't ya?" Robo fires. "I'll detonate this fucker, I swear!" Pam starts in again. "Go the fuck ahead!" Robo sez. "Gimme this fuckin' thing!" Robo does the unthinkable. He reaches forward and grabs the electrical cord from which the vibrator is attached and tugs hard. The little phallus pops out. Vaginal juices flying in goopy shards in the Pennsylvania wind. "Now get your clothes on and get the fuck out of here! We have a show to do!" The vibrator still humming while dangling from Robo's hand. "Open that thing up, Robo!" I yell. "Are you crazy! Who knows what lies between that girls thighs! You open it up!" With that, Robo tosses the contraption at me by the cord. Something actually made me catch it, call it balls or stupidity. O.K., call it stupidity. I catch the gooey rod with both hands. Nothing happens. No explosion. While the rest of the Poison posse stares at me, I unscrew it slowly... BANG! I drop it! Everyone jumps! Out of the vibrator pops a little flag that sez, BANG! Silence, then laughter... Hammer comes on the radio.. "Can someone send that Pam chick back up to me on stage right. I guess you guys never got the joke I sent."

on tour

"I'm T.N.T., I'm dynamite..." - AC/DC

"She used my head like an exploder..." -T-Rex

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