cold casserole

This is unbelievable, but when the Institute for the Almost Permanently Insane and Very, Very Nervous released me from custody two weeks ago, I stumbled on a small, dirty piece of paper. I couldn't remember what it was at first, but soon the memory returned. I left my unpacking, sat down on the dirty floor, next to the uncleaned, mummified body of my parakeet, Freako, whom I had lightly killed when he had flown all over the room shitting on the NIN stuff I had back in 1990. I won't go into that again, but that led me to the Institute. The paper was half of an A4-sized page, and the writing on it was barely readable, but I cherished it like it was my own child, of my own flesh and blood, my own motorbike or something. It had all happened in 1989....

I had been sitting in my favorite restaurant, Scuzzo, who claimed they could make anything from cabbage, when a young, thin man dressed in black jeans and a blank white t-shirt came in. His hair was long but clean, and I had seen him once before, but then I didn't know who the hell he was, what he was doing, and why did he eat the shitty food with a grin and start writing on the napkin like mad?... This time, I was ready for him. This time, I wouldn't be left alone. This time was going to be my time.

Slowly I sneaked closer to the greasestained table with its equally greasestained and cigarette-burned red-and-white checkered tablecloth and a smoking candle flickering in a chipped-neck bottle of Gallo wine. He ate a little, put his fork down, wrote a little, got his fork, ate some more. Grimaced, smiled, grimaced. It was really scary. But I had a plan....

As I had thought, he had to go to the toilet to wash the grease from his hands before he smeared all the text on the napkin. Like a bolt of lightning I was on the napkin, glimpsing words from here and there, but concentrating on the one thing I was there to do. I inserted a charcoal paper below the napkin, and my own piece of paper under that. I was going to get a first-hand look at Mr. Reznor's private thoughts!

I scurried back to my seat, sat and waited for a while, and true enough, he came back, a bit of toilet paper stuck on his shoe, which was quickly removed by a small, blonde woman with too much lipstick and lips that made her look like she was pouting all the time. She smelled at the piece of toilet paper and hid it somewhere in her underwear, which was the only piece of clothing she was wearing. Then the owner of the place asked her to leave, since "you always follow the nice Mister Rentshop here but never buy anything, and you should start eating vitamin pills instead of going to the doctor to get shots, lookit your arms, you're a mess, why don't you get something to wear, I swear to God --" The owner's voice, as her pleas to stay, faded as they went outside. I wasn't interested, I just watched Trent. He was back to his eating, writing, eating, writing.... This continued; the waiter brought more food, hot steaming salads and icy-looking pots...I tell you, the restaurant sucks....

Then, he picked up the napkin, stood up and started to leave. I couldn't resist; I got up, ran in front of him, and said, "Awwwagaaagggggagagagagagagag."

"Okay, but just this once," he replied.

He wrote me an autograph and left me to my drooling. I didn't drool for long. With cheetah-like agility and speed, I leaped to the table, quickly grappled the waiter cleaning the table and, after a short fight where I didn't stick to the rules, got the paper I had inserted under the charcoal paper. I returned to my table and started to read.. Imagine my astonishment when I found the whole lyrics to a different song than the one he was writing before his visit to the toilet! This was awesome.... I put the paper in my pocket, decided it was time I celebrated, got drunk and next day bought a parakeet to help me with my hangover. The bird pecked me in the head, which was just fine. I didn't care, I had all the lyrics to...

cold casserole

oh waiter, i'd do anything for food
oh waiter, just bring me something i can chew
oh waiter, i'll soon slide to the floor
oh waiter, just come here and i'll order more

no you can't take it, no you can't take it
no you can't take this yet 'way from me
no you can't take it, no you can't take it
no you can't take this yet 'way from me

cold casserole
dried cabbage roll
i'd rather die than swallow it all
cold casserole
rubberlike sole
i'd rather die than swallow it all

bow down before the one who serves
he's going to bring you sweet dessert
bow down before the one who serves
he's going to bring you sweet dessert

oh waiter, are you alive for sure?
oh waiter i haven't seen you move for hours, not since four
oh waiter, bring me Alka Seltzer, this stuff can't be chewed
oh waiter, i'm choking in my food

go on and take it, go on and take it
go on and take it away from me
go on and take it, go on and take it
go on and take my plate 'way from me

cold casserole
fish that smells old
even your donuts do not boast a hole
cold casserole
chicken starts to crawl
i'd rather die than swallow it all

bow down before the one who serves
he's going to bring you sweet dessert
bow down before the one who serves
he's smiling and your stomach hurts

-- pasi (SiGHeR) pirttiaho