One day, back when I was first messing with the idea of writing what later became Squeeze Box Man, a strange image popped into my head. It was an image of a punk band on stage playing, snarling out their songs, all the while being pelted by perogies by their adoring fans. This happened while I was busy doing Communications work in my sad little cubicle. That day I told one of my workmates about it. She looked at me as if I were as mad as a hatter.

I know the genesis of this crazy idea about flying perogies goes back to a night at the Drake Hotel, back before they gussied it up. A friend dragged me to the downstairs bar to see some punk band. There was a rough crowd there and I recall feeling way out of place. At one point a bit of a fight broke out and the bouncer walked over, picked up both participants and tossed them out of the joint. Next thing, people started hurling empty beer bottles at the drummer, not because they wanted to hurt him, but as a twisted show of affection. He was grinning but not missing a beat as he dodged bottles from behind his kit. I remember thinking, it looks like there is only one door out of this basement and things are getting ugly, it must be time to make an exit. By the time I finally started writing the stories, the beer bottles became perogies.

I couldn’t let go of the image, and eventually I dreamed up a scenerio in which Staashu’s mom ran a catering company making perogies and other traditional Polish dishes. Staashu arranged for them to set up shop at their big premier show at The Bone Yard. The fans showed their appreciation for the band by hurling perogies at the band. Maggie comments to Lazy, “I think they like us.”