Missoula MO-Day 5 or 6? Played a show infront of Missoula's underage, surly punk contingent. Some local Dance/Prom/Cowtip kept the older kids away from us and left us some bitter teens. Two sad cases slam danced wildly to the punk band opening, only to be repremanded by the club commandant-a picture of prepared responsibility with a beard.Nice show, i'm able to just chat to the crowd lined before us-broke a mic-stand got a few laughs. A Goth tried to buy our keyboard-we told him we needed it and he told us we sucked. We had hoped someone would be able to put us up-but the little kiddies scuttled back to their Limp Biskit lined rooms before curfew and we were fucked.

I'd fallen for Missoula on a previous trip that was frought with disaster. A broken car, a crazy Greyhound ride, someones bleeding head slammed in a trunk. Buton that occasion my woes ended in Missoula-this time it is where they began.

We drove around and found the Economy 1 Motel. The man at the desk took rudeness to academic levels-remarkable considering all he had to tell us was to sleep in the beds and shit in the toilets as that was all the room contained. So eight of us snuck in there and drank beers. Eventually Casey, Sarah and myself threw in the towel and went into another room to sleep. I tried to get comfortable in a small space next to one of the beds, where missing lumps of capret left the floorboards exposed-leading to not entirely happy camping.

I went to the can and heard voices from the next room. They were remarkably clear and i hoped they wouldn't disturb me. I snuggled into the hell hole-but the voices were actually louder in that room-as if a thin sheet of wax paper divided us and them. I tried to fill my head with anything to distract me from their conversation-but it was just too attractive.

There were three voices-a younger guy, a woman of undiscernable age and the gruff voice of an older guy, who added asides of wisdom now and again. Evidently something untoward had happened, as things got heated and the word 'fuck' peppered the conversation.

"Fuck..you know...fuck that motherfucker."

"That's fucked and you know it." This was mainly the younger guy and the woman,

"Its not fucked...you know...i only fucked that little prick to get my man out of jail. I needed the fucking money so i said to the little prick..."

She gets louder here, "You want to fuck me for it. That's the only reason i fucked the little prick. I needed the money, my man was in jail, i needed the money so i fucked the little prick."

The old guy said something i couldn't hear then the younger guy started, "But Tammy said..."

"Tammy is a cunt-bitch from hell. Fuck her we all know she ratted us out." There was some sounds of agreement here,

"Fuck Tammy.. " Then a pause, the the woman said, "So we're all in on this together, right?"

"Yeah i guess," The guy didn't sound so sure the older guy again said something i couldn't hear, then the woman again,

"No,no, fuck that we can take care of this. Have you got the sawn-off?"

More murmers, "O.k. lets take care of this." With that two of them left, i could still hear the older guy murmering occasionally and shifting around in his bed.

I'd hoped i was the only one to witness this insanity, but as soon as they left someone whispered, "Did she say 'Have you got the sawn-off?'"

We were freaked-we tried to be as quiet as possible, knowing the guy was in the next room. We feared them realizing we had heard everything and we'd be the next Tammy's.

We drifted into the other room and told everyone else about the goings on. We all stole glances through the curtains, checking to see if we were about to be extras on cops-but everything seemed pretty calm outside. We drank some beers and tried to calm down. Fleeing was something we considered, but the room was paid for, we were poor, and we could always call the cops if anymore craziness occured.

I tried to drink myself asleep. At some point i heard running footsteps by the window, and someone enter the next room using a key. I heard a woman's voice-but it wan't the same woman. I was half asleep, half drunk and don't remember the full extent of the conversation she had with the gruff older guy, but i recall some mention of a hundred dollar bill, so i decided there and then she was a hooker and the guy was some kind of crime-lord pimp, ruling the underworld from his bed in the motel-handing out assassination permission and gangland advice to his legion of felons. Something like Charlie from Charlie's Angels, only bad.

Next morning Sadie told me she'd checked the phone during the previous nights excitment, only to find that the line was dead. She hadn't told me then as she didn't want to worry me.