Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Fiction - The Show - #2

J stood at the mix in an upstairs ballroom. Having carried twenty-eight hundred pounds of PA gear up twenty-two steps he was feeling like the end of the night before he even got started. Thirteen bands on the bill, thirteen! Whatever, people came to battles of the bands in droves so the payoff was going to be sweet.

The first band on stage had the look of hardcore skate punks about them. The guitar player on the right appeared to be in need of getting his meds checked. Either that or he was selling his Addies instead of taking them. It was all he could do to find all his stuff and plug it in he was so twitchy, a steady stream of profanity projecting at anyone who cared to hear.

"Awright, kick drum" J said into the talkback mic.

pa... pa... pah... du... duh... Duh... DUH... DUH!... DUH!!! KAH!!!! KAH!!! He tweaked the EQ absent mindedly, getting that metal sound in place. The guitar player was still noodling around aimlessly, chugging, squealing. It was like a sweat bee circling his head.

"Hang on a minute dude, you're up in a minute. Dude. DUDE! Stop playing!"

The bass player smacked the kid on the shoulder and said something that got him to stop. J called for snare, called for the first rack tom. Mr. ADHD was at it again. He stepped up to the mic, "You can turn this guitar up in the monitors now!"

Minga this is gonna be a long-


J spun around and saw the security gorilla standing behind him, a wall of beef in a Danzig t-shirt. He was wearing a grin that should have been on the box of a product called Black Tooth Grin. "I use-ta mix. Ya gotta keep these punks in line!" He chuckled and stood there with his arms crossed over his barrel chest. While he was trying to get his brain back in gear he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"J-dude, you got any aspirin in your box?"

"Yeah, lemme jus-" J ducked in to the ever present yellow tool box under the mix. Bringing up the bottle he asked, "You hung over already?" of the guitar player standing in front of him. The kid was about sixteen, part of a glam revival act that was tearing up the local scene.

"No dude, we were just in a wreck!" he said enthusiastically. "We got t-boned at an intersection! Will's grandma's mini van is all pushed in! We refused medical coverage! Will almost got in a fist fight with the ambulance driver!"

This is how my night's starting? Not usually one to drink and mix J's eyes roamed over to the bar to see if by some miracle there was Guinness on tap. The kid handed the pill bottle back and jammed a handful in his mouth. No black tap. Dang.

"Hey, you can pay me back by going over there and telling that man the sound guy needs a Jack and Coke." The kid grinned at the implications. "And no you may not get anything for yourself." J added, "Big Brother's watching." He jerked his thumb at the mountain standing behind him. He glanced around and saw the grin again.

"Sure" still grinning and holding out his hand.

"I said tell him it's for the Sound Guy." J pulled out a single "Just leave him a tip." He turned back to the desk, the right hand man was back at it again. He heard knuckles crack and Black Tooth start to shuffle our of the mix.

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  1. Jack and Coke, INDEED! damn.

  2. What can I say of our young protagonist but that early on in his career he did not yet know of the glorious properties of Maker's Mark.

  3. I forgot to comment...I read up on the fiction yesterday....you now i'm a fan, I haven't picked up a book lately for the plain and simple matter of reading enjoyment so its nice to check the blog for a good fix.


Keep it clean...