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dream.20040714: Amish ring tones

by Rob Friesel

SCENE: Dimly lit bar; Miller Lite pool lamp is the main source of illumination. (Note, people are smoking, so it can’t be Burlington.) It is early and not yet crowded but starting to fill up.

I approach a friend of mine that I spot there and ask how he’s been lately. He tells me “not well” but that he’s working a half-way decent hustle that should at least get him out of the hole. When I ask him about it he is hesitant but eventually caves: “I figured out how to convert all these MP3s to ring tones and sell them to the Amish.”

About Rob Friesel

Software engineer by day, science fiction writer by night. Author of The PhantomJS Cookbook and a short story in Please Do Not Remove. View all posts by Rob Friesel →

2 Responses to dream.20040714: Amish ring tones

kr8n says:

No, no. That was real. The Ilves Bar in Helsinki — three years ago, before a resurrected Dead Boys opened up on the crowd with molotov cocktails at the club next door (Tavastia, i think) later that night. 4 fatalities, 10 seriously wounded, but when they played “Caught With the Meat in Your Mouth” everyone lost their shit. Rolling Stone still wants me to write a review.

Yeah, it was one of your Stoli nights, excpet some strange Finnish shit — Koskenkorva. Yeah. You conned some dwarf into stashing shots on his person – his pockets, the ass-crack of his jeans, everywhere – not warning him that you were going to consume the vodka by flipping him over. It would have been f-ing brilliant had the poor bastard not been smoking a cigarette at the time.

It was around then that we learned that “Kipsi!” was the proper way to say cheers.

Anyway, the ring tone thing never panned-out. Those cadgey Amish copped my gig and stole the technique. One of those buggy driving assholes actually had the gaul to shout some incohenrent invectives about Emmanuel Goldstein when the deal went sour.

I didn’t manage to get out of that post-Communist hell hole until I had managed to get a good portion of the under 16 population hooked on huffing Scotch Guard and cornered the market. And at that point I was more or less chased out of the country by the Finnish Mob for — get this — having poor business ethics. Cripes.

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