Tales Of A RATT by Bobby Blotzer Page B

run at a biker bar called the Hard Rock Saloon in Long Beach. This was a really rough neighborhood, and our look in Rocket 88 was that of a bunch of skinny rocker guys. Usually, that would have made us targets for some abuse, but the biker's never fucked with us. I guess they figured that skinny rockers are better entertainment on stage than nothing at all.
    In this particular place, there were seldom any fights. They were a "locals" kind of place, and there might be arguments once in a while, but nothing like what I was about to witness.
    It was the final show of the second weekend. We did four sets a night, Wednesday through Saturday, for a two week stint. That week, during the Friday night show, some random black dude came walking in and was dancing at the front of the stage. That was really odd, because normally black guys don't like being around bikers, and vice-versa.
    This guy, it turned out, had a saxophone with him, so he actually got up and jammed a Stones song with us. I think it was "Brown Sugar" or something. He wasn't very good, but it was funny and we were enjoying it, so everyone had a good time.
    As I'm looking out at the club, the bar is straight ahead, and at the left of my vision is the entrance to the front door, and to the right are a couple of pool tables.
    I noticed these two dudes hanging out at the pool tables. One of them really stuck out to me, because he looked like Chuck Daw. Chuck was my bro, but Chuck had an unfortunate habit of getting into trouble with the law. He was a really sharp guy, but not sharp enough to keep his ass out of jail. He had a drug problem which led to him stealing shit and getting collared for it.
    When Chuck would get out of jail, he would just be ripped! He was always a big guy, with huge arms. My bro had some major guns on him, and could flat out fight when he wanted to. But, when he would get out of stir, the guy was a monster. All he had to do while inside was lift weights, and it showed.
    Chuck was a total nice guy, you just don't want to be on his bad side. He would always wear those wife-beater T-shirts and have his hair cut real short.
    There was this guy in the bar, and he had that exact same look. Fresh, prison reject.
    For whatever reason, these two assholes caught the black guy outside after the show and beat the shit out of him. It really pissed me off when I found out about it.
    The next night, those two guys were back. They really stood out from the bikers. The bikers looked like they were bikers. These two guys looked like jailhouse Arian Brotherhood.
    It was at the end of the night. We always started out the evening with "Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen" by Cheap Trick, then we would close our last set with the same song, but change it to "Good night, Ladies and Gentlemen.” We were in that song when this all went down.
    During the song, I was watching this fight break out over by the pool tables. It started, then worked it's way around the bar and toward this fake doorway that was made by the entrance. The thing had been built out of 2X4s and drywall, and was used to guide traffic into the club. When those guys hit that thing, I could have sworn it was going to come down, the thing shook so hard.
    We finished the song, and the ambulance chaser in me came to life. I went outside to see what was going on. The bikers were looking out, and I worked my way to the front by weaving in and out of them. I was a lot smaller than they were, to say the least. When I got out there, I was shocked by what I saw.
    There was a really big guy sitting on the curb, with his arms behind him, holding him up. These two assholes were kicking him in the head, over and over! It was bad enough that the bikers went back inside. They were too scared to do anything. That's how un-nerving the thing was.
    The Chuck Daw look-alike was a guy named David Lee something-or-other. He was the one who was really going off. He was kicking him in the head with everything he had, going, "You