A flyer for a weekly death metal night. Custom type. All black on dark French Paper card stock.
The guy putting it on kept offering to put me on the guest list. I kept turning it down. “Besides the fact that it would give me a headache, it would be a total sausage fest. Not many women are going to come out to listen to Swedish satanic speed metal played at ear pulverizing volumes.” He had to begrudgingly admit I was correct.
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