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Jets to Brazil: Four Cornered NightFour Cornered Night (2000)
Jade Tree Records
Reviewer Rating: 4
Contributed by: fatheadfathead
(others by this writer | submit your own)
I work too much. The other day, around 6:15 pm, the normal mad dinner rush hit my sandwhich shop with full force. Some new chick decided she had a 'headache' and called off, leaving only me and my worthless, nicotine-fiend of a manager to run the place for the rest of the night. I wasn't feelin.
I work too much.
The other day, around 6:15 pm, the normal mad dinner rush hit my sandwhich shop with full force. Some new chick decided she had a 'headache' and called off, leaving only me and my worthless, nicotine-fiend of a manager to run the place for the rest of the night. I wasn't feeling too hot myself, but I needed the money, so I pushed on. To make things just a little worse, the head manager had taken the stereo home with her, so now I was left to jam to the mall's contemporary rock station all night.
Believe me, one can only take so many John Secada, Backstreet Boys, and Genesis songs. Needless to say, I wasn't the super friendly, nice young gentleman I always try to front to the customers. People could tell I was pissed, so most of them would just take their sandwiches, say 'Thank You', and go sit down. But then - oh but then...
"Hey man. You workin' hard or hardly workin'?" said a voice from the past.
"Workin' hard." I said sternly, because, well, I was.
"Why aren't jammin' to the Jets today?"
"Huh?" I said, looking up.
It was him. The kid who became a chopping block for me not even a month ago. His face had healed up quite a bit, but his ear still looked pretty bad. There was something different about him this time. He wasn't all punked out. Instead, he had a nicely trimmed haircut, some cheesy square glasses, and a Jawbreaker shirt on.
"Nice shirt man!" I said extactly.
"Thanks." he said, smiling. "You know, I did a lot of thinking while I was in the hospital, and I decided to give Jets to Brazil another chance. What do you know, I immidiately became hooked. Their words are just so awesome. Have you got their newest album "Four Cornered Night" yet? Aww man, if you don't have it, you gotta get it. It's a little more pop, a little more mellow than Jawbreaker or the first Jets album, but there's still some rockers on it. I love 'Milk and Apples'.
"Yeah man I got it." I said, trying to pay attention to him and the orders being placed simultaneously.
"I love the words on "Orange Rhyming Dictionary". They're sooo good. I wonder why they put it on the new one instead of the first album?"
"I don't know. That's cool that you like them. They're really good. Well, I gotta get cookin." I said, trying to be as polite as possible to this kid, seeing as how he apparently forgot about me beating him down with a spatchula.
By now, the orders were getting backed up.
"Do you have 'Dear You'? Dude, that's such a great album. One of the best ever. I had to order it online for 35$, but it was worth it. I went into the record store here but they only have 'Bivouac'. Is that one any good? I haven't heard it yet. What about 'Unfun'? I don't have that one either."
"Come on man, you need to move along. I'm trying to work here. Come up and talk after all these customers are gone." I said in a cooking frenzy.
"My friend's got 'Four Cornered Night' on vinyl. Talk about sweet. He found it for only 8$ in Columbus. I bet you wish you found a deal like that, don't ya. I know I do. I think I like the first Jets album a little more than the new one. It's a little too soft for me."
"Fathead, stop talking and start cooking. Don't get behind." my manager screamed.
The grill was sizzling. My manager was screaming. This kid was rambling. N'sync was playing. My nose was running. My head was pounding.
"You know who else I really like, thanks to you? The Get Up Kids. They are awesome!!"
I snapped again. I grabbed the spatchula, leaped the counter, and decked the kid, AGAIN! I pinned down his arms and proceeded to slap him silly.
"Don't ever say I made you like the Get Up Kids. They fucking suck. Don't ever say that you little piece of shit. Don't ever say...."
In a matter of seconds, the security guards had me cuffed and in the police car. The kid was crying, my manager was flipping out, and everyone in the food court was staring at me. I knew I fucked up this time.
I don't know if God really likes me or what, but just by chance, I stood in front of the same judge who let me off last time.
"You again!" he said.
"Yes sir. It's me."
"Aggrivated assault with a spatchula, AGAIN! Son, this is your second offense. Now I tried to be leaniant and understanding last time, but you better have a damn good reason this time, or you're going away for a while!"
"I'm so sorry, your honor, I was so stressed. So many things all at once, and then this kid said he liked the Get Up Kids because of me, and my manager....."
"Stop right there." the judge said with a shocked look on his face." What did you say? Someone likes the Get Up Kids?!?!? Son, you did the right thing. Balif, let this man go. We can't have vigilantes like this tied up in court cases. He's got to be out there, protecting kids from the dangers of the Koufax, the New Amsterdams, and heaven forbid, the Get Up Kids."
"Thank You sir, Thank You so much! It will never happen again."
"Oh, it better happen again. Fathead, I'm appointing you leader of a new office, The Office of Music Security. From now on, it is your duty. Now don't let me down."
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