Tommy | Mark Sucoloski

    “George got to the show late, and we were infuriated. He was always late. Even though traffic was terrible on I-95, we still didn’t care. The show started in twenty minutes, and a sell-out crowd was gathering outside of the bar. Among the people waiting outside the bar were several record-executives eager to hear our sound. Jack, our bassist, turned to George and said, “Why the hell can’t you do anything you’re supposed to do? Think we need you?”
    What we didn’t know at the time was that George was an addict. He constantly arrived late to shows because he could not go on stage without being high. He had no life. He worked at McDonalds on a part-time basis. He was not even qualified to make the food. He scrubbed the crummy toilets and mopped the floors of the fast food eatery. Every dime he made fed his addiction. He needed this band: he needed to eat. His wife left him after an affair, and he had nothing left. 
    George tuned out everyone and set up his drum set in the back of the stage. He was all set up and realized that he had forgotten his cymbal. Now, George was late, and he forgot shit. Awesome. It was a mess of a night, and the show hadn’t even begun. Finally, the clock hit 10pm, and the doors opened. Hundreds of people piled into what seemed like the tiniest bar in the world and waited for the music to start. The music started, and the first song went well. Of course, our lead singer, Alex, had to complain about something, and this time he picked on George for being too loud. George sent a bird his way and threatened him. This wasn’t really a surprise to me. Alex’s skinny jeans were always a little too tight, and it made him feel small…if you know what I’m sayin’.
    Back to the story: You didn’t want to mess with George. He was a 6-foot 6-inch power forward at the University of Kentucky where he won two national championships before dropping out of school for financial reasons. Alex didn’t take the threat lightly. Every time he got off the mic, he yelled at George whatever he could think of. George did what any pissed off drummer would do. In the middle of the next song, he threw a broken drum stick at Alex. Yes, this is a petty thing to do, but I was watching World War III unfold, and this was the final preliminary move. Now, what happened next was a pure physics miracle. 
    It hit and stuck to his back…Bullseye! It was only a matter of seconds before Alex took his microphone and threw it at George. And then, the two were off. George unscrewed the only cymbal he remembered to bring and threw it at Alex like a frisbee, slicing Alex’s eye. Alex followed up with a few sucker punches and kicked in the bass drum. It was a wrestling match. Two 33-year-old men fought like little kids in front of hundreds of people. George had Alex in a head lock, laughed, and said “Dude, what are we doing? Let’s end this.”
    And that’s the last thing I heard him say before he jammed the other half of the broken drum stick into Alex’s eye, your honor,” said Tommy, the guitar player of the band. George had ended the fight, but this small personal victory landed him 15 years in the joint for aggravated assault, and 5 years for possession of a narcotic. George Blake Samuels is now residing in the Florida State Prison at 23916 NW 83rd Ave, Raiford, FL 32026.