Thursday, July 28, 2005

War Stories: Ray Cappo

Welcome to the first intallment of War Stories. I plan to use this segment to gather stories about mischievious/dumbass things that dudes in the core have done in thier past. This is one of my all time favorite stories from Ray Cappo. It first appeared in Fuck You Fanzine #1 (volume II in 1998) and then again in Fuck You Fanzine #6 (volume III in June of 2003). Enjoy. -- Ronny

Our first party we threw was back when I was in the band Violent Children. It wasn’t really that punk. We were sort of into the Sex Pistols, Black Flag, the B-52’s and The Clash. We liked to dance, but then we’d like to slam. We didn’t know what moshing was or anything.

So, I had this party and I invited all of my friends over to the house. My parents just went to Europe, so I got a Mohawk. We moved all of the furniture out of the living room so we could just dance, because we were really into dancing. We were into ska. We had the whole Two Tone collection, so we were like “yeah, ska time! Yeah, punk time!” and we’d slam, and then we’d be like “pogo time!” and play something punky.

So then all of the sudden, my big heavy-set friend started slamming into the living room main support wall of my Mom’s colonial house! His name was Fudd. I was like “Fudd, man you freakin’ made a little crack in the wall! What are you, nuts?!” He was like “eh, sorry man. We were slamming.”

We were all drinking and finally after a while of still slamming and still throwing each other against the walls, I turned on the lights and realized that the entire main support wall of the house was riddled with cracks and plaster was out. I was like “holy shit! What is my Mom going to say when she sees this?!”

So, I was like “I have to get my older brother to fix this!” My brother came home, saw the party, and was like “you jerk! EVERYBODY, out of the house!” and he kicked everybody out of the house. I was like “Carl, man you’ve got to help me. Dad will kill me if he finds out we did this to the house! Carl finally goes “alright, I’ll fix it.”

My brother Carl can build anything. He re-plastered the wall perfectly and then painted it. So it was all done, completely. My parents came home, and my oldest brother, who is the biggest bitch in the family goes “alright, you fixed the wall. You got it all done. You chipped in the money. You paid for it. Now I want you to tell Dad anyway.”

I was like “are you kidding?! Why? Why?!!!

He goes “because it’s the right thing to do.”

I was like “no way! Don’t tell Dad. He doesn’t have to know! Everything looks perfect. There’s no hole in the wall. Everything is gone. It’s all sealed up. I paid for it. C’mon! Don’t tell him!!”

He goes “you got to tell Dad.”

He made me tell Dad.

And what’s worse is, I don’t know why, but the hole in the middle of the wall opened up again. It was unbelievable. I had to live with that hole for my entire life. My father refused to cover it up just to remind me of how irresponsible I was.

Every time I wanted to do something like use the car, my parents would be like “no, you can’t use the car. You know why? Come here, I’ll show you why.”

They’d bring me to the wall.

“That’s why you’re not going to use the car!”

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