This may or may not have been an actual call with Dave Waugh. The original cassette most likely was taped over by accident, that or thrown away. Who cares. Here it is, replaced from memory. Drug addled memory. Cuc-koo. Circus music playing in brain. Dave tattoos at Jinxproof in D.C., blah blah Plays bass for Ironboss, blah blah. Looks great in an Iron Maiden shirt. Size medium stretched over a body cut for nothing shy of XL. Doesn't really like anyone. Doesn't really like much of anything. Andy Capp Hot Fries, that's right, he likes those. That and titties.

"Hello?"

"Dave, it's me. What's going on?"

"Who the fuck is me? It's fucking 10 am, what the fuck are you doing calling me at 10 am. Asshole."

"Well, we have to take care of this While You Were Sleeping thing."

"What While You Were Sleeping thing? I was writing a fucking email and you booted me off. That's great. And now my WEBTV's all fucked up. You know have to type in the fucking email using the goddamn remote control, because the WEBTV keyboard is fucked up. That means I have to hit the fucking enter button, then go to the menu screen, select each and every goddamn letter, then press enter again. You know how long that takes?"

"Um, no, how long?"

"...a fucking long time, that's how long. So now I have to go all the way back and start over, because you called me, and that booted me off, and now the email is gone. Great. This is just the kind of shit that happens to me."

"What the fuck is your problem, did you run over another skunk or something? Did you ever get that smell out of your car?"

"No, that's fine now, but there's a fucking chipmunk that runs up my driveway and is trying to build a nest in my engine. Just like that fucking mouse family that nested in the goddamn engine of my lawnmower. You know that cost me $500.00, right? FIVE-HUNDRED DOLLARS. BECAUSE OF A FUCKING MOUSE. Do you know how much money $500 is? Take a guess."

"Um, 500 dollars, right? A lot of money?"

"Yeah, it's a fucking lot of money. And now there's a fucking chipmunk. A FUCKING CHIPMUNK who runs up my tire and into the engine, so I put one of those sticky traps down, and when I got up today, there was a piece of a furry tail on it. But it wasn't just a piece of a tail, it was a chewed off piece of a tail. There's all this fur, then this hollow tube thing where it got chewed off by whatever the fuck it was that got stuck."

"Weird."

"Yeah, no shit. A FUCKING CHIPMUNK. Are you calling me about band practice or something? Because that show we just played in New York sucked. What, did you book us another stupid fucking worthless Tuesday night show, or something? Or did you and Chris write another gay Journey-sounding song. Probably did. Great, Ironboss plays 100 shows this week in Baltimore. No one goes to shows if you play too much. How many times do I need to tell you that?"

"No, no band shit. We're not playing again for a few weeks. This is for While You Were Sleeping, we need to do the interview."

"What the fuck kinda questions are you supposed to ask? This was probably one of your gay ideas. Wait, you owe someone some sort of favor, and you told them I would tattoo them for free, right? "Um, yeah, our bass player can tattoo you if you do our t-shirts for free." That's the kind of shit you set up. Now I have to take a shit. You see what happens when you call? Christ. And I don't even have any fucking toilet paper."

"Go buy some, or use one of your flash sheets."

"Go buy some? Do you know how far away the store is? I have a fucking email to finish that I have to type out using the goddamn remote control. THE REMOTE CONTROL. A FUCKING CHIPMUNK."

"Did you end up eating the tail?"

"Did you end up having sex with your mom? Shut the fuck up. Why don't you go book us a bunch of stupid shows. Go book us a whole tour of Tuesday night shows where no one shows up."

"Seriously, we have to do this interview. This is your deal, Dave. Personally, I don't give a fuck whether you get any press or not. I just want to get a hundreds bucks for typing this piece of shit up. I mean, I guess you're a half-decent tattooer, aside from all the light patches in the black part of my backpiece."

"Yeah, well we'll see if I ever tattoo you for free again. Christ, I don't even know why I play in a band with you. It's bad enough just having to talk to you on the phone."

"Blah blah. So what's the deal with the cop you tattooed? Didn't you tattoo a huge cock on some lady cop's leg? or you tattooed a cop's dick? Or did you tattoo a cop with your dick?"

"I don't know, you tell me. If you can name all the songs on the first S.O.D. album IN ORDER, I'll tell you"

"Let's see..."March of the S.O.D.", "Kill Yours-" wait, not..."

"Wrong, fuck you, interview's over."

"Sergeant D" is the next song. Are you going to tell me the story or what? I have to turn this shit in tomorrow."

"Once upon a time, there was this DC police officer, and she decided that she loved cock so much that she wanted to get a giant penis tattooed on her ass cheek. So, she came in and she said, "Can you tattoo a giant penis on me?" and I said, "Sure, do you want it throbbing, and veins popping out, and balls hanging down, and pubic hair?", and she said, "Yes." So I drew up a big giant penis. Actually, what I did was laid my penis down on a piece of paper, and then just kind of traced around it..."

"...then blew it up 3 or 400 percent so it would actually look like a large cock?"

"So I drew it, and had big balls dangling, and she said, "That looks good, what about the dribblings?". So I added cum dribbling out the end of it just for her. And then she went back to being a DC police officer. I said to her, "Don't you think men will be intimidated when they see that?" and she said, "If they're secure in their masculinity they won't." There, is that good enough? Can I go now? Hold on, listen to this, are you ready?...(pause, then some grunting, a quick popping sound, and a splash)...did you hear that?"

"Are you playing Battleship?"

"Nope. Guess again."

"Anyway, we're done."

"Oh, that was great. Good job, you're really good at this. Wait, wait, here, listen to this..."

"Forget it. Hey, do you have Aaron Cain's number? Maybe I should interview him instead."

(pause, followed by grunting, then multiple splashes). Click.

You can pester Dave at Jinxproof Tattoo - 202 - 337 - JINX Dave has flash for sale at www.ironboss.com