Bands on the Run
Memphis

Episode Report Card
Mr. Stupidhead: C+ | Grade It Now!
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Beastie's sportin' wood. Sweetness. Not.

We’re still in Nashville. It’s 9:15 in the AM. A very hungover HARLOW is now arising. They seem none too pleased.

FLICKERSTICK is also just getting up, and Brandin jokes that “SOULCRACKER’s already played a show today.” Heh. Yeah, they stink. Like poop.

Beastie “couldn’t sleep last night due to my regular mental problem. Rebecca.” Thanks for spelling it out, there, Fangy McHairgrease. Apparently, he’s been considering getting back together with this girl (whom we’ve never heard of before now), and he’s wondering how his being on a TV show is going to affect things. Not. It’s so obvious he just wants some more airtime. Camera hog. Nice name, Beastie. “Pardon me for being a little egotistical here, but I think I’m quite a catch.” And by “catch” he means “spastic colon.” He just pronounces it differently.

Anyway, time to hear some totals from Brendon and Katina.

Total tour earnings:
FLICK -- $4886
SCARLET O’HARLOW -- $5509
SMELLSLIKEPOO -- $5738

Why are they still winning? Not!

Memphis is the next town. Brendon tells everyone to check under their visors to see what the next bonus opportunity is going to be. They all do so, and a bunch of casino chips fall out. Basically, they have to play a gig at a casino in Memphis, and they get two hundred bucks, which they can gamble. If they win money, they can put up to a thousand into their tour earnings. If they lose it all, they lose it all.

HARLOW’s like, “Fuhg dat!” SOULCRACKER’s like, “Dude, we are totally gonna kick ass!” Like you always do. Dominic: “Dude, we are gonna gamble that money away so fast.” Everyone giggles. They’re awesome, man. Cory thinks he has a “foolproof gambling system.” Okay, whatever. Dom: “Why aren’t you rich?” True.

SOULCRACKER just found out that they’re playing at the Young Avenue Deli on Tuesday. Bob: “Oh, great. A deli.” Bob, you should not talk, ever. You should just sit there and shut up and not talk and not make me want to throw things at my television. You are made out of poo. That’s right, I said it. Your bones? Poo. Brain? Also poo. Your poo itself is made of even more rancid poo. Sorry, but Bob stinks.

Chimene doesn’t want to get drunk tonight because she knows she’ll want to gamble if she does. Amanda: “That’s a great idea, Chimene. I couldn’t have thought of a better idea myself.” “I’m not getting drunk tonight.” “That’s nice.” Heh. Sure you won’t. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

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Bands on the Run

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