Heady Epic

So people are stealing my stories now? Seen Trey the other day shit is REAL yo! He had a fake moustache and beard, but i knew it was him cause he gave a homeless guy a $20 bill and suggested that he go to boston market because the mac and cheese is to die for. Then he high fived him and jubilantly yelled, "who wants me to whistle Fluffhead?" I didn't want to interrupt his day, so I minded my own business, but what a guy! He then hailed a cab while tap dancing, got into the cab, and i overheard him say, "83rd and gamehendge." to that the cabby replied, "excuse me buddy?" and trey replied, "i just wrote a song in my head, wanna hear it?" then he started to sing "inna gadda da vida." that is when trey shut the door and the cab drove off. I had noticed that trey dropped something from his pocket as he entered the cab. I examined the gutter to find a teener of the finest peruvian flake i had ever encountered. Remember when trey gave that speech before curtain with about how he wanted to play this song because it made everything come around full circle... i.e. back in vt, one of the oldest songs...well, I never realized the irony that the musical quality of Coventry was probably about as good it was on 12-2-83 way to go trey, you also came around full circle with your Space Antelope-esq band called 70 Volt Orange Aid which is the musical equivalent to having your junk hit the front of the toilet while crapping in a public washroom.What a guy! Trey Oxystasio and his mates reminds me of an exgirlfriend. We would get all fucked up and she would let me pound her ass till the neighbors got up for work. Guitar gasms left and right? Only when they smell like shit. Trey isnt the walrus, Jennifer Hartswick is the walrus. After she sucks you dry, you let loose her in mouth, put your hand over her mouth, punch her in the stomach, so that it comes out her nose resembling the tusks of a walrus. When is he going to retire his "go to" lick that sounds like "fat guy in a little coat" That's been everywhere post hiatus and beyond. Trey's career is like a bad porno, he goes through all the trouble of fucking you senseless, but when he gets around to cuming on your face he has to wank for 5 minutes and its like two drops with him screaming loudly. Sometimes its like he has blown his load too many times too quickly so it sounds like air-brakes on a truck. You know, pfffffft-pfffffffft. Close your eyes and you can picture all the dweeby little cuntbeaks popping their pimples and fingering their bungholes all day as they hunch over computers spewing how great he still is. I would have preferred 70 Volt Parade to pinch off a turd on stage, cuz at least that would have had some comedic value to cover up the stinkage. Blow Bice? Time to stay away from the booger sugar Red. Trey you are a homeless looking noodler that has more in common with Tom Cruise now and your crowd needs to get back on the e-train again. Making mediocre events epic since before the turn of the century.

Naked big titted women don't just fall from the sky you know.

I've got my gun ready, and farmland in the family. I've been working on survival skills. It's going to be a tough transition, but we should all be ready just in case...because everything has been going to sh!t since Hampton 2003. Whether a few years from now or a few dozen, it's best to be prepared and ready to allow your DNA a path into the future. That's what really matters. Get the mama's pregnant and spread the seed of Heady love. Walking around Coventry trying to find the Stash you lost somewhere along the way was easier to get back in your possession than it was for Trey during the same song. "Has anyone seen a tin of Altoids??- except theres not really Altoids in it??" if Trey had of stuck to that riff instead of trying to play "I've got pictures of david lee roth licking my dogs balls, 2 dollars!", he would have been alright. What happened to him, you wonder to yourself? His creed used to be 'to crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.' Now, it seems like he sings the Wookette doing the invisible cube dance creed "My bowl's got a hole, I need a nugget to plug it." So as I laid in my bed last night i was thinking about my buddy who got his wallet stolen at the the Great Went by the the Waterwheel kids and he taught me that "Phishy" biz is a part of a mean scenesters life...then when I saw the dudes at the Hisser beat up another kid who was jocking the ballys' for 3 bucks I was like, what up with that dawg? WHOA..eeeeze up. What about the vendors who sell the legit hep a's and cheesers? How will they get their mollys and pins for the next week or show? The Redneck was coming on stage most nights having a lump of dirt and grass stuck in his eye and looking really spun. As he would over-take the stage, he could be over-heard to yell out "THE MONKEYS NEED TO BE FREED!!! FREEDOM FOR THE MONKEYS!!!" Yeah one time me and 2 of my friends were on acid and we were really messed up. We decide to smoke some weed, but then my one friend is like "hey lets go the gas station and fill your bong up with gas" and I'm like "sh!t, thats the best idea ever." So we go to the gas station and I'm like "fill'er up for me, premium" and then gave him the bong. So then i hit it "wow" it was a rush, but then i almost died from the gas, it was cool though, went to the hospital and had a little brain damage, no worries its all good though. Later on, I read an interview with Red Sonjia, and this sums it all up, 'every single day at work, I walk to the cooler and forget what i needed. I'll stand in there for a long time and not be able to remember, as soon as I decide to do something else I remember what I was originally doing and the cycle repeats itself until Sandsy comes in and tells me it is time to do something else that I forgot I was supposed to do.' Its a little known fact that Trey was spun out on some Garcia print blotter at Coventry, and had to go to the med tent because of a cut on his foot, only to find out it was just covered in mud. He walked in yelling out "ohmygod!!! Is Bob Weir here too?" It all makes sense if you think about it. Trey's mindset had a direct impact on how everyone else was feeling. At 12-02-03, this dude strips completely naked, pulls out his pubes, screams at phish, flicks them off, and then huddles naked into a small ball in his seat until cops came. They threw him in a bedsheet and dragged him away. As soon as Trey realized that control for smilers COULD be bought, it was game over.

This is PT I in a 2-part series

This past November 25, I ate turkey with a red headed daego that happened to play a bad guitar, you know face full of mud, stumblin, red toyota wont start, fruit cup the whole 9. I came to realize that the red headed guinea from Joisey had no idea how poorly his former merchandising company was run. As much as an ego as he has, he doesnt pay that much attention to the Phish product before it goes on the market. He would much rather jump up and down playing air-guitar in front of a mirror imitating Pedophile Pete. Have you seen IT. Looks pretty, dont IT? Well, you stupid stoner hippies need to come to a realization, and real quick. They are ripping you off. Always have, always will. Shoddy products, made by stoners like you, for stoners like you. Anyways, my five year-old nephew asked him to play PYITE, since he had gone to his car to procure his guitar. Elmo paused and started weeping. We all looked at each other, absorbing the awkward sound of a hippie demi-god sobbing in the midst of us. Finally, Clifford got it together enough to apologize for his lapse, saying that PYITE makes him think of the lost NHL season. Reminds me of this time at Red Rocks. Follow my friend Hugo and others into the Red Rocks parking lot. He drives a sky blue '68 Ford Mustang convertible. As I am stepping out of the car, a car pulls up and a guy leans out of the passenger side window to offer me Denver Bronco mushroom chocolates at $20 a pop. "Is one going to be enough? I am Heady Epic". He says yes, so I buy two. I continue to stumble and mumble around the lot for the prerequisite ammunition needed for the show. As I am buying a one-hitter from a dirty, bearded guy with a belly bigger than Santa and tshirt dirtier than a Coventry porta-potty, a dirty, hairy-legged girl with dreads as long as it takes approaches me about some "blueberry organics from Oregon". I give her a confused look before concluding she must be selling mushrooms and bring her back to our car. My friends buy an ounce for all of us. I buy a quarter for backup. She didnt smell quite right. After numerous Sammy Smith's, a dozen joints and a handful of caps, I've got a pretty good buzz going, especially for a Tuesday afternoon. My friend Hugo and I decide to eat our little chocolate treats which had been chilling in this flimsy styrofoam cooler we stole from 7-11. We head into the show early to get good seats. While waiting in line to get in, I notice that Hugo is starting to glance around nervously. He tells me that we have to get into the show NOW! He also tells me if it rains, it might have serious consequences for his mental health. He also informs me that the handrail he is clutching with both hands is a dear friend that he's known since childhood. Looks like the guy was right about the chocolates. We take our seats on row 30. Neurons are definitely doing a little dance in my head now, and things are becoming rather psychotic. No wonder they give this sh!t to schizo's. I perk up my ears when I overhear the guy behind us mention Denver Bronco chocolates. He advises his buddy to "only eat half or maybe even just a quarter" unless he wants to spend the entire show on Pluto. I turn to Hugo, who is a slobbering, incoherently retarded mess. I write him off as a mushroom casualty after it takes him at least half an hour to decide which restroom he should use. Anyone seen a wheelchair access sign? Still 2 hours until the band comes on. The grassy hill to the right of the stage erupts into a ball of green flames, with demons playing frisbee with peoples heads. I look away in horror and decide to concentrate on a harmless rock formation. Only problem is this rock formation is really a giant iguana that is trying to eat one of the speaker set-ups. Most of the people in the group I'm with have also procured some of these potent little mind-blasting chocolates. They inquire how they are treating me. As one guy's face contorts into something out of a bad '80s horror flick, I lie and tell everybody that I don't really feel anything. It's probably better that they take everything in the arsenal because these things are pretty weak. If I'm going to be sailing the high seas of hysteria, everyone's going to be on the same fu©king boat. One girl eyes me suspiciously and remarks that my eyeballs look like black marbles. I turn away to see if the iguana has crept any closer. After the green tarp we're sitting on sucks my beer down into its gullet, I turn to my friends and ask if everyone is ready to go. They remind me that the band hasn't even come on yet. Oh right! We're here to see a show and there's still at least an hour til showtime. An eternity of horrifying visuals and non-sensical speak later and the band (at this point I don't even know who it is we're here to see - Swish or something) is late. By this time my entire group of people is a complete train wreck. Total chaos incoherence and iguana's. One girl is crying. I laugh at her for being weak. "There is no 'I' in team and I'm so fu©king yours. Heady and April, sitting in a tree, f-u-c-k-i-n-g..." One of her friends tried to intervene, but all I could say was "Get the fu©k off her. That's my ex-girlfriend's monkey. Look, man. She doesn't want to go back to the lab. And for the record, I ain't gay." fu©k, fu©k, fu©k, / Mother, mother fu©k, / Mother, mother fu©k, fu©k / Mother fu©k, mother fu©k, / Noich noich noich, / 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4, / Noich, noich noich / Smokin' weed, smokin' wizz, / Doin' coke, drinkin' beers, / Drinkin' beers, beers, beers, / Rollin' fattys, smokin' blunts, / Who smokes the blunts? / We smoke the blunts. / Rollin' blunts and smokin'...I think about going to the rest room but decide the 15 minute journey would be about 14 minutes and 30 seconds longer than my jellied brain could handle. I decide to piss in a beer bottle. I notice a young lady staring at me, appalled. I tell her not to worry and that I'm from Texas, "where it's ok to piss outdoors." Anyways, the red M&M had put his guitar away, turned to me at the dinner table and asked "Hey brah, you know what I like? Mashed potatoes" I was like, dude, you gotta give me time to guess. If you are going to quizz me, you must put a pause in there. Trey is gonna be a major fat-ass in a couple months if he keeps up at this rate... it'll be '96 all over again. Trey is so trendy if he gets fat and grows a beard...everybody gets fat and grows a beard. Damn I miss fat bearded trippin trey.

Heady wants to know what the fu©k was that? It was a Trey'n wreck. Embarrassing. Most of the summer was Metal Funk at its phinest, and now, Trey has turned into Phil Spector. In 10 years he is going to be a whacky reclusive composer that mumbles constantly and throws things at people while yelling obscenities like "you fu©king tool". People in the Phish scene need to realize they're just as washed-up as Trey, the long happy trip is OVER...you all were in your early 20's & late teens when you jumped on the wagon. The next generation is gonna do something totally foreign to what you consider to be good, and you'll be the ones saying "this weird sh!t sucks", just like your parents do. To get to Flubbentry, I jumped into the back of a van of some frat-boy and his sister. Never said a word to them, and they were too frightened to do anything about ole Heady. Ok, so, I wasn't able to talk, but I got me a ride. I cleaned their cooler up real good like, ate their food and smoked all their weed. Somewhere around Albany, Nate had to take a piss, so I jumped into the front seat, and drove off, while his sister was still sleeping. Truthfully, I don't know why he never tried to kick me out of the van after he caught me ground hogging her in the back of the van. It was pretty easy to make 4 left turns with her, alls Heady had to say was "Don't worry; it only seems kinky the first time." Anyways, while I was getting polished, the van was pushing her limit, and I rolled it onto someone's front lawn in Burlington. Without a scratch, I grabbed my bag, and headed onwards. Caught a ride with a group of wooks that were planning on selling tons of snows-candy and pills. We got close to the gate, taking the left lane and some back roads, but our ride wasn't going any further. Whoever said the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step is an idiot. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and a leaky tire. It was time Heady started his walk but wasn't too far to the entrance, maybe a 20 minute stagger. I showed up with some cold 40's of Colt 45 Double Malt, a box of French Ticklers and some nipple clamps. When they asked for my ticket, I just stood there and nodded in my best porn star face. After about a minute I looked them both in the eyes and said "Ladies, you know how we do it!!" and walked in. Next thing I see, is something waving at me. Holy hell, is that a wookie waving at me? Oh sh!t. It understood. Maybe it's some kind of super wookie. What if there's more superwookies in a lab? WHAT IF THEY'RE CREATING AN ARMY OF THEM? Holy sh!t. It must be a conspiracy like in the X-Files... Roswell style. This little wookie could be the fu©kin' damn dirty ape responsible for the fall of the human race. After the fall of man, these wookie fucks'll start wearing our clothes and rebuilding the world in their image. Oh and only those as super smart as me will be left alive to bitterly cry - DAMN YOUS. Goddamn yous all to hell. It was a lesson learned, don't sell an ounce of coke and 40 oc's to Rudolph the red and runny-nosed guitar player. EVER. Specially if that sh!t was stolen and you haven't had the chance to test-drive it. We all saw what happened to him, that sh!t was the potent sh!t. Next fest, I aint going near that red haired junk-wad. There is a fine line between hobby and mental illness. Heady needed more refreshments, so I hit the camping. Its always darkest before dawn, so if you are going to steal brews from your neighbours cooler, nows the time to do it. Sun started coming up, and I needed money. I sold Hershey Kisses for 5$ a pop to all the custies. I told the idiots I put lsd on them, so they were buying them faster than I could exchange cash. At one point, I stopped giving the change, and half of them were rolling so hard they didn't even notice. The kisses were still in their original wrappers, so these ** must have thought I opened them up, poured the liquid mind fu©k all over them, and wrapped them back up. Hope you enjoyed your placebo boys and girls, cause all I did was walk in Walmart and stick a few bags down my crotch. Coming from Camden and Great Woods, it wasn't smelling too pretty either. You know what they say, common sense is the least common of the senses, so, I got this varsity swimmer chick to blow up these 200 balloons I had stored, also in my crotch. I pretended like I was blowing them as well. Anyways, she insanely thought we were going into the show together, and that we would release the balloons during one of the sappy songs like Row Gay. What she didn't know, is that I was walking the balloons about 25 feet away, and selling them for 5$ a pop, then I would disappear into the crowd before the custies noticed. So, I sold about 75 of them sitting there, and then I grabbed the rest and took off on her. I found an empty tent, and stored them in there. For the next 5 hrs, I would grab a bunch of balloons and run around the lot making some easy coin. My favorite kid was this Harry Potter looking chap from somewhere in Ontario. He asked me "How much maaaaan, I looooove balloons" and I replied "1 for 5, 3 for 17." The kid wigs out and yells "WOW, 3 for 17 is a wicked deal!" I took his 20$, told him I didn't have change, and left as fast as I could. Step right up! See the* magic boy*, with his mystifying feats that will leave you scratching your head until it's raw and bloody. Not much I can say about the music, I was tripping face, this flute girl is busting a Jethro Tull next to me... some girl is jamming Tootsie Rolls down my throat, and the guy who'd DETERMINED to get his Destiny, and has organized the recitation of the lyrics at the end of setbreak, is right behind me, when he unleashed that air-horn to 'start it all off'...there was a kid behind me keeping a setlist but asking me the name of every song so Heady paid another girl just to kick his ass....all in all, it was a weird weekend. I felt like I was Han Solo, everyone else is Chewie, she's Ben Kenobi, and we're in that fu©ked-up bar. Experimentallegedly doental jams everywhere. I wonder whatever happened to Nate's sister. Don't matter none, I am going on the road and I'm going ride the mofo Custie-mobile right through Moe tour and send some w00ks' kids to college. You don't get a refund if you over pay so thanks for all that cash, cause me have no regrets.

I must be too high.

They are sponsored by Viagra and Depends on this tour.

Well, I wrote a tune. Catch me singing it in the lots, starting with Hampton on the 9th. I am hitting every show again, and I am armed and ready with an arsenal large enough to take out an army of custies.

(Sung to the tune of What A Wonderful World)

I see danks of green, a red mollys too

I'll sell them all, for me and you

and I think to myself, I'm a wonderful wook

I see smoke of blue, and china white

The stanky smell day, the psychedelic night

and I think to myself, I'm a wonderful wook

The colors of those tiedyes, so trippy when I'm high

Are worn on the faces of the hippies walking by

I see strangers shakin hands, sayin "How do you do?"

They're really saying, "Its brah to you"

I hear custies cry, realizing I burned them so

They'll buy more, and my wallet will always grow

and I think to myself, I'm a wonderful wook

Its been a long week of crying and moaning for wooks, custies and newbs alike, cause ya'll've been beTreyed. Well Heady Epic is here to tell you that I aint no whiney bitch and I ain't worried cuz the Phish band aint really breaking up and Ive got the proof. 140 proof that is sucka. I wont miss watching wookettes doing the invisible cube dance... but the Red Rooster is tired? Well boo fucking hoo if you didn't spend the hiatus boning Yoko Hartswick you mighta got some rest and maybe just maybe fit in a bit of practice time too, you YEM flubbing son of a bitch. I still doubt you have the jambnads to follow through. I've met Elmo, shook his hand before a show in Louisville, and he shook it like a girl. I was so ashamed, that I gave him a wedgie. I guess it's the "dont hurt these precious hands" syndrome. Once I get to Coventry, all hell is going to break loose. I got me the schematics from some foolish carpenter and found a weakness just like the fucking Death Star. You knock this crossbeam out and, bicky bam, the whole stage comes crashing down. But forget about that shiznit, you can't fool Heady Epic cuz Im the master of the clit, commander of them all. When it comes down to business, this is what I do - I pinch it like this then I rub my nose with it. That's how I know the reason Gaynastasio is laying this mofo down is so he join his butt buddy CK5 in rehab and kick the Oxy C. And Heady Epic aint talking about that shit for your nasty crater face or fat pimply ass. We lined yer pockets so you could have an expen$ive habit now kick it Mr Fantasy and play us a tune. Save the phish kidz... the beatniks were before my time and I never got anything outta the hippies but bad dope, cliches and the clap. Who do the phab four think they are with that poor man's Let it Be album cover? I aint buying it cuz Phish has about as much of a chance of letting it be as your sister has escaping Heady Epic without a load on her face. I aint the muthafucking walrus but I make all the ladies go coo-coo-ca-choo. You heard it here first, the boys will be back in town in less than 5 years with new ragers, new shit ass attempts at a top 10 single, new pharmies, all the while with Warren Haynes in the band and Heady Epic will be there styling and profiling all the way. Either that or your Headiness will rent TAB for his wedding band so Walker Texas Ranger can fulfill his dream. Everyones invited... but Heady Epic still gets to nail the entry-level fluffer bridesmaids. After procuring the nail gun, vasoline, depends and motor oil, I'll ask the women in the party if they really wanted to party.

As most of you know or dont know, Heady Epic was in Vegas last weekend, rode back to LA, went to SanFran, hit up Eugene, and now I am somewhere where I dont know where I am. Too many pills will do it to you, but the other thing that will kill you is women. You cant have enough of them, but I thought I was close to getting full as I ever had been. If you havent been to Vegas, book your flight now. I promise, you'll get laid by whatever you want. I was laying around the Mandalay Bay, ran into Trey, and he wanted a piece of Heady. Thats how easy it is, of course, I aint no moe. so I said no. Who doesnt want Heady? That sick bastard was sick the whole weekend, and needed some rest. He had no idea what I would have done to his voice. If you thought it was bad, you cant imagine a pound of Heady's epic squirting into Mr C-Norris's vocal slabbery. Besides, by the looks of things, he had enough junk sliding down his throat. That was the biggest lesson. Dont go to Vegas sober, or you will see more wasted pukes than a Kennedy Reunion. Speaking of which, Girls Girls Girls is the worst cover Phish have ever done. It was the longest fart I have ever heard. As sad as this may sound, I started to think that Trey and his band are starting to lose it. The first set of the run was kinda useless as well, but I was doped up, so who cares? Summer tour sucks, aint enough shows so I gotta find a way to stay on the road. Vegas always makes me feel flat at the final whistle, which is usually some pig telling me to "Get up, this aint a place for skaters to sleep" The heady end of another Phish run is the harbinger of warmless months of high self-esteem and bitter rants about the uselessness of anything non-Heady Epic. Watching wookettes doing the invisible cube dance to a crappy tune is not the way I want to spend the warmth of nature's wet and sloppy summer cunt, cause TreyBand pisses me off cause it aint no Phish. Reminds me of last year, had a chick at Merriweather on the lawn squat down directly in front of me and piss. She was barefoot of course and spent the rest of the show dancing in her own piss. About 8 people recoiled when she pulled up the patchwork skirt and laid it down. She acted like nothing happened, and she had 70's bush. As I was saying, the first set didn't flow at all... lots of really long breaks, and Trey looked like he had a pound of smack in'em. That DMB light guy messed with everyones head, and CK needs to take a break from rehab, blow his nose and then start pounding some blow up it again. The worst part of all, these newbies were telling me how great the show was during setbreak, so I grabbed their gameboy, threw it at Fenton, punched each one in the face and poured my beers on the bruises. You dont get a refund if you over-pay, and I wanted something back for my 50$. I know they were just kids, but I kicked their fucking pube-less asses. When Wilson roared around later in the weekend, I changed my chant to "F U C K Y O U!" Something was seriously missing during the run, but then again, it wasnt. It made me want to hit people, and strangers or anybody and then I was thinking how about in AC/DC Bag when they sing 'put them in a field, and let them fight it out..' at this point it is a total free -for-all when you can just wail on people with no mercy for a few minutes... you know, people in the show you have been eyeing and stuff. So, I'm grooving and some kids come up to me and ask if I am going to go on Trey Tour this summer. I told the pukes that I'm so boycotting TAB...I have all my signs ready to go. I hate bonnaroo .but you know WHY i'm going? To boycott TAB and to show everyone that if they continue to support Trey's Solo Projects that Phish will go on haitaus again! The good thing being there was the ton of vaginal representation in Vegas. I think every room I stayed in had more drippy sticks than not, so most of the ladies loved Heady, as usual. I think it was the middle night, and I followed these Frat fucks to their room. They had some fine meat with them, and on a few occasions, the ladies and I would play a round of beating the bishop when the guys werent looking. I actually let go a dishonorable discharge on one of the boys toys, his new Phish shirt he paid 45$ for. Serves you right so let me clean my meatstick with it. It was so obvious these guys were chronic pud-puller's, so I was sticking around for some jizz mopper-action with the girls that I hadnt had Headys way with yet. One of the bitches was hot, but really had a stick in her ass. When everyone wasnt paying attention, I tried my way with her, but she started crying about some boyfriend back in Connecticut. I tried the "I'm sure your pimp isn't going to let you go, you bring him too much money and make a good punching bag to boot." approach, but it didnt work. So, one of the Frats come by, and starts railing on me. He got a piece of my fists, with me yelling over top of him "I'd punch the tips of frozen hotdogs into your ass until they pulled your intestines inside-out. It is kinda like when you get your tongue stuck to a frozen pole in the winter time, but then again, who am I telling about sticking their mouth on poles." I left, found some moe hoes on the way back from the Hard Rock, so I crashed their pad and gave some of my hard-cock. I spit the kids onto the entry-level fluffers back, and crashed until the last show, which was alright, but all I could now think of was the word on the street about this Vermont festival that is being planned. Phish is very pro-vermont. I could easily see them being stoked about a recording session and driving up as group, holding hands, and signing sing-alongs. There was more jamming during the last night, so I made my way up front. Trey looked at me, as if to say "You sluts ready for some jam action? Got any balls out there for the Big Ball Jam?", "Are there any balls down there? so I yelled back "About the biggest pair you ever seen, dingleberry" Heady doesnt go to the shows for girls anyways. I usually have a hard enough time trying to find my way out of the venue, but I never count myself out of the game either, so, at the end of the Vegas-run, I stumbled around the strip yelling "Who's going west? I'll get you so high you won't even know you're driving" until I got picked up by these three ladies from LA.

For the record:

The green doc belongs to Page. Trey was simply using it for the easter jam.

He pawned his for you know what.