Onion Dent (a fictitious online band story)

The joke of a lifetime

“Dom you are out of your mind.”  “I am not going to drop everything to put a band together.”
Jerry had been a friend of mine many years ago.  We frequently exchange pleasantries on “facedbook” but this was our first conversation of many years.  What a thing to call an old friend about.  Some “ass” from your past calls you and invites you to be part of a fictitious band with a cheesy financial backer, and to request he meets you for the first rehearsal in Scranton of all places.  I don’t even know why I’m doing this.  It was all a joke and now I’m on the phone like a sleazy promoter calling people who I don’t want to hurt or piss off.
“Jerry he will pay for the plain tickets, rooms, meals, and he is serious about it.  I would have never called you if Iian Hunter and Dize Clay didn’t call me to give the guy a recommendation.”  “Dize Clay and Iian Hunter, who is going to call you next, Mr. Tea?   Dom I don’t like the smell of this, no offense but I have to go.”  He hung up and I felt like an idiot.  It wasn’t until Dize Clay, Iian Hunter, and Mr. Tea called Jerry that he was convinced it was worth his trip from Florida to see what this craziness was all about.
Everyone was called and recruited.  Donny convinced Iam, Tom and Joe agreed to bring the horns, and Dave felt two drummers would be a great combination.  The core of the group was set to meet.  To add to my embarrassment, the meeting was set in the basement of an old decrepit Catholic school in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  It was such a strange scenario..  There was an ominous realization that it was crazy, but a strange excitement that it was so crazy it just might work.  The nausea overwhelmed me as I packed my guitar in my van to drive to this train wreck waiting to happen.  It just didn’t feel right.  I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin, yet I kept going.
The last few weeks have been a blur.  Shill Miller became a big part of my day and kept telling me that he believed in my ideas.  I never shied away from innovation or originality, but this had so many drawbacks to consider.  The idea of a polka grunge country band with a horn section came to me in seconds and now I’m going to an actual orchestrated meeting.  The large coffee and ‘talk radio” couldn’t stop the question in my head.  Who the hell names their kid “Shill?”  This guy looked like a sleazeball but thus far backed his sincerity and enthusiasm with proof.  As promised, he sent out the plane tickets, paid for everything and was prompt and professional when he had to be.  He didn’t want any money or agreements signed.  He frequently mentioned he had enough money for “two lifetimes.”  “I just want to be a part of something that sticks” he’d say.  For some strange reason, I believed him.
A joke on facedbook that happened to be read by Shill Miller, you can’t make this stuff up.  His initial sales pitch was lame.  He told me he liked my music but was more interested in my new band idea and in forming it through social media.  It somehow sounded better the more it sunk in.
The only real background check I could do was through my cousin.  He said they were friends.  I called my cousin, as this “Shill” guy wouldn’t let up.  “Bob who is this Shill Miller he wants to back a project of mine but he seems like a nutcase.” An unsettling deep breath and a pause preceded his answer.  “He’s a good guy.  His parents won several million dollars on the lottery.  They offered him a lump sum payoff if he’d move out of their house and never talk to them again, and he took it.  He had a couple of red carpet events that he staged that got some attention and from there he picked up some low-fame clients.  He actually made them some money.”  “Can I trust him? I asked.”  “He’s quirky, greasy, and a jerk.  When you get passed cologne drenched shallow exterior, you find a genuine, bright, and charming guy, but it does take time.”
I asked him what his “gut” told him and he thought a moment and said I should meet with him.  “You got nothing to lose except a couple of friends.”  That’s what worries me.

Copyright © 2010 Domenick Cassise. All rights Reserved Worldwide.

(check back for more installments that continue the story)

Onion Dent is a work of fiction and any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

This entry was posted on February 20, 2010 at February 20, 2010 and is filed under reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.