Petit Prince pumped bad sull'Alpine Tex. The evening had gone luxury, he was fleeing with his friend Cisco Ozone and two unknown girls in Parma. The sequencer
arabesque electronic loops, the notes coming down to get you, then reared madly and flew away. Up and down, up and down while holding down plastic on his back all stupid and robust. A performance of music. Equalization of the Alpine small strobe lights dancing neon colored liquid acid. At regular intervals the bars glow seemed to merge, then briefly was replaced by a written "ALPINE" that flash in time with techno. The chicks then squealed, attracted by the flashes of light like magpies. At this thought
Tex when he was distracted by cachinno coming from the rear seats of Opel, "Ooh-ooh-oh oh oh-oh!" It was
Parma, still made the journey by night to a month before Cocoricò , said it was the anthem of the coconut and if you sang all the songs. Cisco, sitting in place of the dead, and some time waiting for the right hook to launch the final attack, took advantage of the moment-Riccione.
"But it came down very, Coconut?"
After a moment of silence, the laughter of the girls left. Cisco shit ever shot: it was like asking if on the A1 towards Riccione, Mid-August, had seen the machines.
"I mean, fuck, have you fallen?" Corrected Cisco, embracing the head restraints in front and fasten them all seriously.
"Chiaaaro! No? "The blonde said with pride by making a peak, while the other, whose name was then Erica, she continued to mumble the Big Babol bigusto with closed eyes, shake his head to the rhythm of the Little Prince barbarian Netherlands.
"Mitsubishi!, 'The blonde said Manu, composing.
"I want a half a heart? Now?
Here, the silence lasted more; Tex saw in the mirror and you were staring, gavotte plan between them.
"Yes," was the verdict of Manu, "we have you here?"
The request was a bit lost 'in the air, because part of the war drums "Capricorn" 20 Hz and all shouted at once. Tex then turned to the girls with the transparent bag in his right hand and sneer diavolesco "Seeeee," All
shouted again, while the deep bass of the upbeat "Capricorn" gave fire to the dust explosion tribal . Outside, the aerodynamic wedge of the Calibra penetrated the quiet of that Saturday night fresh Emilia.
Cisco decided to open the bar for a skyscraper essential gin-tonic, "The need throw-down with gin and tonic, or blindside you worse, "he explained once a Roman who said he had attended rave parties in London. They arrived at the local Opel parked right in front of large windows of the scratch, then went inside. They went into the room in the basement and wet heat, tropical wrapped them in a sweaty embrace. It was not unpleasant. The clientele was mixed, as every Saturday night, post-punk uniform of black leather, jocks in yellow jacket, ascot and English shoes, a tribe of clubbers on a war footing, in MiniMini pussy stretches of golden handbag and a bit ' of forty drunken ruttante any such marks. The halogen lights dimmed to draw a veil of shadow merciful on the filthy floor of cream donut and black footprints of amphibians. The trunk of a palm tree in green foam was smashed by a fist. But all in all, the atmosphere was comfortable. They headed to the bar. Cisco dodged with a flash flood of the vomiting Lillo, a fortified town that nobody had the courage to evict from the premises, then landed in front of the bartender and ordered a single turkish gin-tonic, recommending the right proportions of alcohol with eloquent gestures the thumb and forefinger. Since advancing only two pads, the Cisco broke, gave to his disciples and said:
"the After Desenzano,"
"That techno," said Tex.
Then the pitcherswallowed a mouthful of gasoline-tonic. The plan was simple and proven: it showed the chicks to be tough, beautiful loads, inexhaustible, so then those could never come. The real goal now was key, of course.
"From there ...?" Said the Erica.
"With Calibra come in forty minutes,"
"Dàai are the four ..."
"It's an After, no? Start the morning. And Coco-girls are you? "
Cisco had pressed the" PRIDE "and now the omelet was made: the Manu dropped the pitcher with a mouthful of gasoline and announced," OK! "
Cisco was just an asshole. The pastes were for Friday evening. And then you treat the after would cost at least a hundred bags Benz, highway and the entrance ticket. Tex smacked his palm on his forehead: "Fuck you! I remembered that tomorrow I've got the tennis tournament. "
The girls did not seem too upset, so after a while 'the idea was shelved in Desenzano viaggione without remorse.
Meanwhile, the stomach acid into action to dismantle the magic of Cisco crescents. The porous surface crumbled quickly, freeing the last molecules of MDMA. LEGO bricks as organic, began to woo the receptors dopamine brain of four.
pastes went great. Cisco and Tex had already dropped to one, but the pitcher had reopened the Skyscraper games: they all need music now. They left the bar and jumped on Calibrate. The Alpine spread quickly warm wave of low subsonic. Balsamic. In a piece of DJ Hooligan, a booming voice declaiming that "the sixth day, God created the Techno, the seventh day, God began to dance." All seemed to be the voice of God
Tex walked to the ring. Speed. God continues to speak to the people of Calibra, said that had created the low and even the synth to make them dance. For each sentence in the techno-god, the sluts cry rose from the rear seats. Cisco seems to have forgotten the main goal: playing with the frequencies of the equalizer, with the average, low, high, just like Nigel, DJ dell'Ozone.
They were all dancing. He left a piece of Cosmic Baby bipiemme a hundred and fifty, and URL that came from their throats seemed modulated harmony of synthesizers, magically. Tex was also a hundred and fifty, on the freeway. The engine breathed well sedicivalvole the Calibra in the cool of the night. "Lost in Love" from Legend B entered the mix, like a bazooka insinuates itself in the armor of a tank just before it exploded. The Calibra seemed to move in time, target the distant future, and the lights of the night as the stars streak outside the porthole of the Millennium Falcon in Star Wars.
Pause for the roles. Cisco regained control and began to bargain for a spaghetti night at the home of Eric, who had mum and dad separated and an apartment of his own. The C-60 departed relentless, with one hundred fifty-five bipiemme Yves Deruyter shot. Tex reacted to the speed of the music in a more than proportionate: you sat hundred and seventy. All, however, seemed to be still stuck. Two hundred, eighty, ninety, fine bypass.
Tex turned the Calibra, then went on the ring road, this time towards Parma. After the usual lengthy consultation, the girls had given the green light to the idea of \u200b\u200bspaghetti night. Cella, Calerno, S. Hilary, Parma Via Emilia was a superstring of accelerated electrons. In the parking lot of a nightclub in St. Hilary did a bit 'of drifting in circles to make the girls laugh, Tex then pulled the hand brake, turned around and soft drinks a bit'. But the music box that Cisco had bought from Nigel Ozone was climax hardcore Dutch, Terror Traxx, DJ Paul, Stunned Guys: one hundred ninety, two hundred BPM. There could be inside, they left. The tribes of the Calibra was more than delirium, Cisco was licking the arm of Erica and the Manu, Tex's hands on his chest, the cardiac massage practiced a madman, shouting incoherent things.
Then Tex became aware of the curve. He took it late, just opposite lock, on the other side came a white van with gold tooling of a pastry shop. The Calibra swerved from one side, then the other, the scream of the tires was lost in the thunder of hardcore, then a giant hand seemed to grasp it, realigned to the right lane, inexplicably, while the truck parade, trumpeting. The girls had not seen, understood nothing, and the Formula One operation was greeted by an excited scream while Cisco, pale and attached with nails to the door, she stood silent, staring at the road without looking at his friend. He lowered a bit 'the volume of the stereo, then put on Radio Deejay, Molella, where he played the commercial.
arrived at its destination at five, swept, then Tex and Cisco greeted the girls exchanged phone numbers, took up the calibration, they stopped at the bar, newsstand, bought three beans, two caps, one Gazzetta dello Sport. Then Tex Cisco brought home, slapped a five times the Calibra, came home, he went quietly in the room, undressed, threw himself on the bed with Gazza. He slid gently into death. Congenital heart malformation, "said the coroner.
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