Th' Soulfinger Diaries: 7.25.06: Jerkoffski Park, Bristol, CT

Hi, I'm Bobby Lightfoot's folding piano stool. I just want to be heard. I want everyone to know that having Bobby's ass in my face every god damn night is about the best I have it.

The fucking guy kicks me over into th' drum riser at least twice a show now. Twice he's set me on fire with lighter fluid. Yesterday he got his foot fouled up in me and I almost got my revenge in front of hundreds.

Instead, he drop-kicked me off the front of the stage. Then he told this retarded guy he'd give him six bucks if he brought me back. And he didn't pay the fucking guy.

I don't want to be Bobby's stool anymore. I wish I could turn myself upside-down right when he was about to sit on me and make him my bitch. He's a mean bastard. And a liar.

I just want to be at some nice family's card table. Or maybe in a dorm room with some coed's tight li'l rump carressing me as she does her poli sci paper. Life is fucking unfair. God damn Soulfinger.