Bullets Over Brattleboro Part I

The weather has been gorgeous here the past few days and it continued as we made our way through lush, green, forested mountains and valleys that were cut with winding streams and lazy rivers. Northern Massacheussetts and Maine could easily be considered God's country. If a John Williams score had been playing in the background, it would have looked just like something out of a hollywood movie about pioneers or spanish explorers.The show at Brattleboro was really a show in three acts. The following is a Reader’s Digest Abbreviated version of the actual events.


Brattleboro falls and mountain.

ACT THE FIRST

(The Free Press van comes slowly into view. It heads towards the mountain and turns, passing a waterfall. As it snakes up a giant hill it lingers at an old movie theatre before continuing to limp towards the venue. Arriving out front of the Weathervane our heroes file out of the tourmoblie. An old, drunk, Einstein-looking-crazy-motherf$*!@r staggers out of the bar and attempts to focus on the band.)

Old Man: Hey!

(TFP manage a nod and a polite smile as they squeeze out of the van.)

Old Man: Hey!!

(TFP repeat a somewhat diminished version of their previous actions.)

Old Man: Heeeyyy!!!

(TFP exchange looks and drop a cool silence).

Old Man: HEYYYYY!!!!

(TFP lower the temperature to create a frosty silence. Jesse - TFP’s 6’3” guitar player - chooses this moment to direct a lingering look of interest at the crazy, old man.)

Old Man: Are you going to hit me?

(A beat.)

Jesse: Not yet.

(Curtain)


The theatre. Should have been our first sign that we were walking into a Stephen King novel.