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Excerpt for The Mission is a Pop Band – Varied Shorts by Nick Armbrister by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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The Mission is a Pop Band – Varied Shorts by Nick Armbrister

Nick Armbrister








Copyright 2019 Nick Armbrister. All rights reserved.


Published by Nick Armbrister at Smashwords.


Only a single paragraph maybe used for reviewing purposes. Credit Nick Armbrister as author.



Cover photo public domain.


Other photos by Nick Armbrister.


Disclaimer:

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The names of people, places, and/or things are all created from the author’s mind and are only used for entertainment.


Due to the content, this book is recommended for adults 18 years and older.











Contents

Dedication

The Mission is a Pop Band!

It’s More Fun in Germany

Odd One Out

X Marks Not the Spot

Fake Broken Down Cars

Diseased Minds in Power

Fuck Fucking Fucked!

Sportsly Times

By the Tracks

We Were Both Soldiers (previously Tattoo Me a Smile in 2009)


About the Author

Links














Dedication

Dedicated to small normal people everywhere...





The Mission is a Pop Band!


Manchester University 2009

It has been said that music is the best healer there is. That is works better than drink, drugs, legal or not, and anything else. A young twenty something music fan was an example of that. He was not English but called the city sprawl of Manchester his home. It was a bit like his old home of Chengdu. From what little he knew of it. There was a music scene there and industry and a China Town just like here. And it rained a lot too. But there were better gigs in Manchester, England. He was at one now.


The alternative/heavy metal lad was firm in his view. The 80s goth band The Mission was a pop band. He told everybody who would listen. Time and again. They got the message and he got a few enemies, some strong but most weak. But when you had cancer and only six months to live, you got away with it. Or did you? Did life make you a victim, illness or not?


The guy was called Stephen with the ph and not the v. He made sure people knew that too. They always got his name wrong. Right now he was at a gig, yes that’s right, a Mission gig. Stephen was right at the front getting it on, he was the man. Right there at the front. He was head banging and moshing, even though they were a pop, I mean goth band. Some hard-line old skool 80s goths would argue with that, only the Sisters, the Cure, the Cult and Siouxsie were really goth in their eyes. Definitely not the Mission. Did they agree with them being a pop band? That was a difficult question. Stephen intended to find out and that meant asking them.


Woo hoo! Fucking ace! I love your music! You’re a pop band!” Stephen screamed as he danced and went mad to the Mission. For a pop band they were quite good. The support band had been almost a good.


Stephen made sure he was noticed by them too, they were called Limitations and from Crewe. They played tight guitar music with heavy use of keyboards, three of them. It was just like an 80s synth band. Who were their fathers? The Chinese? He didn’t care but for a good time and ramming his view across. Screams of The Mission is a POP band! went down like lead balloons.


Limitations guitarist traded barbs with Stephen and almost caught him with his guitar at one point. Stephen gave him the finger and mouthed those words to him The Mission is a POP band! Would there be a fight later? No, time for another swig of vodka and a mosh to the Mish.


The vodka bottle was half empty; it was a litre bottle. He held it in one hand and did a half decent rock air guitar expression in the limited space by the stage front. People wanted to give him space but there was little room, the gig was a sell out. Stephen raised his guitar hand and gave it some Devil’s Horns and nodded his head. His grin was like a Cheshire Cat’s. “Rock and fucking roll! The Mission is a pop band!”


He was a very cool dude was Stephen. Right now he wore a motorbike jacket adorned with a liberal number of studs, an old All About Eve t-shirt, faded black jeans and combat boots. The 80s goth look which he did well even if he was born in 1987. Stephen claimed he was an 80s child and had all the records, tapes, cds and videos to prove it. And he proclaimed that The Mission is a pop band! That last fact alone made him an 80s kid, of Generation X. It had been the Cold War and TV had been as crap as the music. He had a shaved head, not because he was a punk but it was the treatment, and looked sinister with his Asian features and black clothing.


The Mission is a pop band!” caught the attention of the lead singer, Wayne Hussey. Hussey grinned and missed a song line of Into the Blue and returned the finger. This made Stephen dance even wilder and scream twice as loud. He only stopped to swig his vodka and spit on the sawdust floor. He was loving it! The Mission is a pop band! The Mission is a pop band! echoed over the crowd.


The couple jammed next to Stephen tried to ignore him as they fucked, right there at the stage line. Anything went at this gig, shouting, drunkenness, fucking. The thirty something goth girl embraced her husband’s brother and grinded him. Her legs were open, her black velvet skirt was bunched round her waist and her purple panties were by her left ankle. A big black cock, a foot long, pounded her pussy into submission as did insane shouts of The Mission is a pop band! It was a surreal moment. With difficulty the girl gazed up over her shoulders at Wayne and his lead guitarist while she took the cock. It wouldn’t just be her pussy that ached after this gig.


Songs changed several times and Stephen kept on dancing and drinking. The band kept playing and the couple fucking. Other fans were equally happy, nodding their heads, raising their arms, gothing out butterfly style and smiling like the happy folk they were. Some fans were underage and a few were gray haired, the older goths. They had been into the movement from the beginning. Age was worn like a precious gig t-shirt, with pride. Stephen’s parents had been goths and would have been among the founding members. Sadly they weren’t at the gig nor on Planet Earth; both had been killed in a classic bike crash when their sons had been five, along with his older sister. That showed the one child policy was bullshit and it was good they escaped Red China when they had by illegally crossing into Russia. Finally, they reached England.


Stephen’s parents used to listen to Radio Free Taiwan every weekend and they both knew and loved the 80s tunes, especially goth, New Wave, New Romantic and varied rock music. Being caught was a jailable offence. As was being pregnant a second time. Europe was a far off distant dream but his parents had made it. For a few short years they were happy, with two children, day jobs and their music. A drunken car driver ended that. There was little left of his parents or his sister or their bike. Only broken memories. And the music. Oh how I love the music. All of it. Especially the Mission. Even if they’re a pop band. I miss you mum and dad...


The Mission finished their gig with Butterfly on a Wheel. The couple came together and finished fucking. Both now faced the rail and along with Stephen, screamed for More! More! More! They had to wait for five long hot minutes. The Mission is a pop band! was also shouted in a hoarse voice.


The band came back on and nodded; Wayne took the mic and asked, “What’s up? You want some more? Yes?” The crowd went mad and nodded and some cried; fan adoration. “Are we a pop band?” Hussey asked with a raised eyebrow.


Stephen raised his horns and finished his vodka bottle. The guitarists were already playing a riff as Hussey lifted Stephen up onto the stage with one hand. “You’re one of us now, a pop singer,” Hussey commented into his mic, with a grin. Stephen took up position by a spare mic and grinned and danced like he was in a band, the Mission. They launched into Into the Blue. Stephen knew the words. This is for you mum and dad. Every eye in the audience was on him and the band. He gave them all what they wanted. A damn good show. It would be his last. His illness...




It’s More Fun in Germany


The English man was in the Fatherland having fun. He was on a long term holiday/living in Berlin and soaking up the culture. That involved all types of gigs, the Bauhaus Museum, varied art galleries, military museums and most important of all, old warplane wrecks from the war. He’d been to several crashes like British Lancaster bombers, an American Flying Fortress, a couple of German bombers including a Junkers and most exotic of all, a Soviet plane called an ‘Ilyushin’ or some similar foreign name.


His family thought history, war, aeroplanes and weapons were boring. That it was only for stuffy historians and war mongerers. But he knew they were wrong. For war had twice ripped Europe apart in the 20th Century. And a Third World War had been averted, just, in late 1983. And all had involved Germany. This was the place to be. And it was where he was now. His name was Vance. He was nineteen but looked younger. His trip was all new to him, as was the freedom and responsibility it brought.


When not looking for old planes Vance went to a few underground gigs in the German goth/industrial music scene. One gig was underground. It was in a venue/bar called Hitler’s Nipple. This was a part a part of Germany history that was still a delicate issue. There were no swastikas on display nor were Hitler salutes allowed. Both were illegal in Germany. There was a caricature of Hitler, it was a big life size doll, more like Herman Goering in shape – big and round. It was wearing leather chaps with the buttocks on show. The bar was also a gay bar. Instead of holding a Schemeisser or Luger gun the Hitler doll held two multicoloured dildos.


He went to the bar and ordered a Scofferhofer beer. It was a strong blond beer served in a tall glass. There was a support band on called Vintage Vibrations. They played 50s rockabilly, sung in German, and were quite good. Good band, I wish I knew what they were saying though, Vance thought, taking a swig of his beer.


The venue was quite deep underground and it was dark and sparsely lit. Lights by the bar, stage and toilets were the only illumination. The dance floor was by the stage and Vance finished his drink and went dancing. A few other varied music fans danced or nodded their head to the music. A couple wearing Joy Division tops were doing matching moves. Vance wore a vintage Billy Idol t-shirt.


I feel fine here. The atmosphere is relaxed. There seems to be no idiots here. But the doormen look stern and able to handle trouble. Vance got a good look at the place while dancing to the band. There were at least six bouncers in the mid sized venue including two by the door.


Songs went by and Vance got another beer, a dark bitter this time. He thanked the bar girl. Not too different than a typical English bitter. It could be easily mistaken for one. Boddingtons or Holts maybe...


The DJ played 80s and 90s music while the main band got ready. In the time he had two more beers, danced to some punk and goth tunes and chatted to a girl from Finland. Her name was Tarunna. She was an exchange student studying history and art at one of the smaller Berlin Universities.


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