The Last Orgy with TPN

The Traveling Puss Nuggets played at the oppression palace for their last time ever. They will never play another show together again. And you probably missed it! What were you doing this time? I hope you weren't working up new, creative ways to mutilate your own genitals. For the rest of us hillbillies, who support local music, it's a shame. We lost another band. We hardly have any as it is!
Tickling Poop Nubs will be deeply missed. Their funky, rocking, chaotic live shows are one of a kind, but all good things must apparently come to an end. And on this final day, the fans at last came out of the back hills of Atascadero to catch one last glimpse of them. The crowd, though supportive, looked like they were masturbating to pictures of dead unicorns for 24 hours straight before they hoped in a stolen El Camino and raced over to the bar. Our favorite bartender in town, Becky the Pickle Charmer, promptly escorted these mutants toward oblivion, while the opening band was finishing up. The redneck hicks were good and loaded when Ten Pound Nipples finally started. The place went completely apeshit. M.C. Phail really worked the crowd into a dancing orgy. His voice, though not particularly outstanding, was enough to make me want to down my beer and lip sync to their songs I have never heard before. They also did covers, during which the bass player, Josh Magicock, had his shoes off, so a line of women could suck off a bead of his talented sweat, while they tipped him. Brandinac, the rhythm guitar player, was visibly jealous, but he shook it off and played as if he was channeling George Harrison. I felt this even more so when they did a cover of The Beatles' "Tax Man." Then, they did a few more original tunes and even had a drum solo performed by their freakishly hairy drummer, Josh Washturd. For sure, he's a fucking maniac. His cymbals are proof of this. They are all cracked. It looks as though they are hurting when he hits them, which makes sense because Josh tries to murder his drum kit every time he plays.
Ah yes, but we can't help but want to kill him too. He's the reason why Atrashcadero is deep throating grief right now. He's the reason why the band is dismantling. He's venturing off on a cross country trip with his new wife and starting a new life and blah, blah, blah. He said he's not looking back at this shit hole either. It's a good thing he's not because we would all be giving him the bird with our genitals. Trust me, it's possible. But he really doesn't care because when I asked him for some parting words for his band, he said, "I'd probably trade it all for $40." Damn Washturd.
Well, his lead guitar player, Christ the Captain TitWaters, will also miss him tremendously. He doesn't know what to do with himself. I guess he will have to use his angelic hands for more useful things like masturbating to pictures of dead unicorns. Same goes for the rest of the band and the rest of Atascadero for that matter. All us oakies can hope for is that maybe, just maybe, they'll get together one day and form a side project, but it will never be the same. Not without the Turd. Until then,  may those Twisted Pecker Nights forever live on through scratched up CDRs lost inside a buried blow up doll's vagina. Rest in peace big fellas. We loved you in an extremely gay way.