Bill.

I’m doing it. I had an epiphany today. Dad tried again with the job at the bank and I decided I’d had enough. I went to the record store- you know me- and I saw the poster for Henderson Jetpack again. Phil was there- you know Phil- so I asked him about them. He wouldn’t tell me what kind of music they play- classic Phil, right?- but he sold me a CD and told me the poster was actually for the tour they’re om right now so I’m doing it.

I’m following Henderson Jetpack and dad can go eat a bag of dicks. I’m 40, not some teenager he can bend to his will.

When I got back to my car, my CD player was gone. But it was fine, it was peaceful enough while I drove to the arena. That was lucky, since my car started making that noise again. I pulled over and waited and eventually somebody stopped and offered to give me a free ride. Lucky twice.

Unfortunately by the time I got to the arena the show was over. That sucked. I walked back to my car and slept in it until the cops came by and told me I had to leave. I think it was Deputy Stevens because my dad was waiting for me when I drove home and he offered me soup but I threw it in his face, grabbed my charger and that box of Pop-Tarts we got at the store this morning and I was out of there after he went back to bed.

Henderson Jetpack is playing in Dubois tomorrow and I’m going. Don’t tell my dad, I didn’t. Hopefully my car’ll be strong enough to get there but anyway if I don’t I’ll hitch. How hard can it be?

I wonder what kind of music they play. I like to imagine it’s a sort of afro-roots black metal fusion. I have the CD with me. Maybe I’ll get a chance to play it.

I’m sorry I didn’t give you a heads up. I know this is the kind of thing you normally do with your best bud but I need to do this on my own. I’m an adult and it’s time dad respects me, so I snatched his wallet on my way out the door and pissed in the rose bushes. Take that, with your bank job and your room rent.

Anyway I’m leaving this in your kitchen. Don’t freak out. You left your key locked in the fake rock with the same code you had for your locker in high school and I needed a Gatorade.

I’ll talk to you when I get back. I’m still thinking we start our own band- look at all I’m doing to go see Henderson Jetpack- and I don’t think you being a chemical engineer or us not knowing how to play instruments are anywhere near as big a deal as you do.

When my dad calls tell him you don’t know where I am and not to call me.

Much Love,

Willy D