The walls vibrated with the immense power

The walls vibrated with the immense power of guitars strumming intensely in almost perfect unison. When the guitarist strung a chord, I yelled with every ounce of breath i had.

But it was no use. My voice could not be heard. I wondered how anyone at the venue could communicate. I decided to high-tail it out of there before I got permanent hearing damage.

As it always does, the silence proves too much for the uninitiated. Its welcoming aura soon creeps into suspicion, and gives way to a massive paranoia. The mute buzz of

that damn T.V. My brother bought begins again. Fortunately the not so silent silence distracts me from the buzzing. Everyone and I felt the probability of an ambush waiting

to happen anytime. The TV buzzing like that meant an ambush was upcoming anytime. "What should we DO?!" I asked my brother. "Let's put it on reruns of Buffy, that may help!" So we

grabbed remotes from the coffeetable, and furiously pressed buttons trying to bring up some on demand episo

des of "When Good Animals Go Bad". He really had an unhealthy desire to watch the rerun of the hippy getting gored by a cornered bull as she tried to channel its essence.

It wasn't a healthy hobby for a 4 year old boy, but it's the only thing that kept him on the couch, glued to the screen. So we watched that hippy get gored at least 50 times a day

and ate tomato soup for lunch and bit the heads off of animal crackers. Looking back, I wish I'd been more careful. I somehow feel partially responsible for...well, you know...