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In Fall 2003, my band went on tour with Black Eyes and Q and Not U. One day, we played a show in Cheyenne, Wyo. at a space called “Club Drakula.” I’m not sure why the space was called “Club Drakula,” but the gothic moniker suited vacant Cheyenne’s star-filled, desolate night.

“Who wants pizza?” asked the promoter of Cheyenne show. In his spare time, this promoter managed a franchise of a chain pizzeria known as “Domino’s.” When the promoter called for pizza-eaters, thirteen hands (five Black Eyes plus three Q and Not U’s plus two roadies plus my postpunkish trio) shot up.

“All right,” said the promoter. “Who wants to come to Domino’s to help me make these pizzas?”

Consarnit, I thought. I would like to help make Domino’s pizzas, but undoubtedly my numerous traveling companions will also want to make Domino’s pizzas. Too many cooks will crowd the Domino’s kitchen. Then, I looked around the room. Miracle of miracles—-my hand was the only hand still up in the room. “I will be the one,” I shouted. “If you transport me to your franchise, I will help you make Domino’s pizzas.”

“All right, then,” said the promoter. We drove through Cheyenne’s desolate night to his Domino’s franchise. “I once made a pizza in one-minute, forty-seven seconds,” the promoter boasted. We shaped varius doughs and toppings into edible pie-shape. I am vegan, but was thrilled to participate in this industrial food process. I assembled ten pizzas (including a vegan pie) and loaded them into a conveyor belt oven as bemused Cheyenne Dominoes employees looked on. These bumpkins had never seen a slight man from the east coast assemble pizzas with such glee! When my three-band touring caravan devoured these pizzas. I was not explicitly thanked for my pizza assembly. However, I basked in private glory.

Last night at the Sunset Tavern in Seattle, a young man approached me. “I am from Cheyenne and saw that show at Club Drakula,” he declared.

“Ah, Cheyenne,” I reminisced. “Are you familiar with my pizza-assembly skills?”

“No,” said the young man. “But do you want to stay at my very large house with laundry facilities and free internet? It is five blocks from the club.”

“Does your large home have room for five large men from Black Fiction?”

“Yes,” said the young man. My two-band caravan retired to this ample abode and experienced true Seattle-style hospitality—-Wyoming-style. I was glad of this. Besides the show I played in Wyoming in 2003, I have not played or heard of any show in Wyoming before or since.