Sonicpopper

[Trey Fitty]

Welcome to SONICPOPPER.
This thread is the story of a weekend...
that's right, three nights and two days.
But not just any weekend. Oh no.

This is the weekend of Sonicpopper, The biggest, longest, loudest and craziest rave of the year.
Three nights, two days, 50 DJ's.
Kinda expensive, but you gotta pay for quality.

So grab your tickets dancers and drug fiends, and line up at the door.
This is one hell of a party.

 

[Trey Fitty]

Life in the city. Working. Sleeping. Working and sleeping, only to start all over again for your pissy little paycheck once a week. A million cars are on a single road in a day. Everyone on their way to their pitiful existential ritual of work. Ants in a colony. Every one of them thinks they're special, that they're going somewhwere. But where are they really going? Spend a fucking hour in traffic, go to work, "do lunch" with some old wanker in a suit, back to work, and home again. Maybe you travel 20 K's in a week! A life of routine, depression, discomfit, loneliness, over rated realities and extreme mediocrities. Or is it mediocre extremes?
But who really gives a fuck, when in exactly 3 minutes and 15 seconds, the weekend is mine!
And I'm going to go fucking crazy!

As the siren rang to signal closing time at the factory, Tim was already out the door. He jumped in his car and drove home as fast as possible. The time was 4;10 by the time he got there. Not long now...
He reached into a drawer in his bedroom, pulling out what he called his "little magic box". In truth it was actually a magic box that had been proven to hold a quart (7g's) of weed, an 8 ball (3.5 g's) of speed, 15 pills (ecstasy) and a gram of coke at the same time. Factory Hand was only Tim's daytime job.
By 4:19 Tim had a bong, conepiece and a bowl of chopped weed ready. At the exact moment the clock reached 4:20, Tim hit his bong. "Damn, that's better."
The ONLY way to start a friday night.

 

[Trey Fitty]

Tim started to get ready. Wearing a pair of white cargo pants, a tight singlet and enough jewellery to get TV reception he began calling his friends. Terry would be there but still go home each night, but Dean and mike were on the same wavelength; "Stay out for three nights, man!"
He knew he'd meet others he knew, in an event of this magnatude, this is inevitable. He lifted out his little magic box and started seperating what he needed. Basically enough drugs to keep three spun out ravers happy, dancing and awake for three nights in a row. He shoved them into a snap-lock bag and stuffed it snuggly into his shoe.
Damn unprofessianal, but it's worked before...
Sitting, with a reefer tucked firmly between his fingers, he sat and waited. The phone would ring. Oh yes, the phone would ring.

This is the hardest bit, when you've already organised yourself as much as possible, and you've still got hours till anythings happening. My way of combatting this is to assist in the degredation of the public. by the time the rave starts, I guaruntee I'l be at least 500 bucks richer.

 

[Trey Fitty]

OOC: what, no one interested in my thread?
Well, if you are, just jump in. No need to write a bio (unless you really want). Come in as anyone; one of Tim's friends, one of his enemies, security, a DJ, a gang, anyone.
C'mon! Let's get raving, people! I'm dyin' out here!

 

[Trey Fitty]

Happy 420 Everyone!

April 20 2002

4.20.02