"And that's why we're super stoked about going on our first North American tour this summer, Chet! We're ready to take that brass ring by the motherfucking balls!"

"Clyde, you dork." Token shook his head, laughing at his longtime friend. "Why would a brass ring even have balls?"

"Shit, I don't know! It sounded cooler in my head!"

"I get the feeling that this interview is basically done, Chet," Token said, looking to the host.

Kenny shook his head, realizing that this interview had completely fallen apart. He folded his arms and slumped back in his chair, his hoodie falling over his eyes as he did. Jimmy leaned forward to get into the center of the camera.

"I p-p-promise, ladies and gentlem-men. Clyde is actualaa~ah...actually a great guitarist, and much c-cooler than this. Usually."

"Hey!" Clyde exclaimed, much to the amusement of his fellow bandmates.

"Alright then, I guess it's time to sign off! I'm sorry that we weren't able to have a live performance today, as promised, but as our outro this episode, here is the first single from their self titled album, on sale June twenty-ninth. Please enjoy Humble Folx's cover of Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain". For Underground Jamz, this has been Chet B!"

The four young men waved at the camera and said goodbye to the unseen viewers at home. After a moment, the host disconnected the webcam from the live stream and leaned back in his chair. His partner, who was currently working the technical side of their Youtube show, began to stream the music video for the song before speaking up.

"From what I could see," the guy explained, "it seems like most of the live comments were asking who and where the lead singer was. It's a shame he had to go to his dad's funeral today."

"Yup. Real shame," Kenny mumbled. Token discreetly elbowed him in the side.

"If we get a lot of hits on the uploaded video," Chet began, "we can schedule another interview some time when Tweek can be with us. Frontmen are what the people want, you know!"

Chet laughed, his enormous smile seemingly taking up half of his face. He stood up and moved over to his partner to look over the rest of the social media feed. Their studio space was small and not at all glamorous, but had the overall feeling that something great could come of it. It was a perfect symbol for Humble Folx's career at that very moment.

They were a band out of Denver. No. They were actually out of South Park, Colorado, but they didn't really like to advertise that. Nothing cool ever came out of South Park, other than the occasional alien abduction, and those were still pretty lame. Regardless, that's where their journey had started. Five guys who grew up with each other since third grade, who all happened to end up with the same dream. Fifteen years later, all of their hard work and ambition was near bearing fruit.

Chet turned back to the four men. He lifted his hands in front of his chest and gave them two big thumbs up. They glanced at each other, not entirely sure what he was supposed to mean by that action. Chet got the hint.

"You're all set, guys. You can head out now. I know you're busy preparing for the tour."

The boys waved goodbye to the two-man crew of Underground Jamz, Youtube's premiere channel for all of your Colorado music scene needs. Their eyes squinted at the extreme difference in brightness as soon as they stepped outside. It had been overcast when they first arrived, and the Underground Jamz studio had poor fluorescent lighting. A cloud of silence had fallen over them since the live stream had ended. As they piled into Token's grey SUV, it finally broke.

"I'm seriously pissed at Tweek for not coming. Again," Clyde grumbled.

"Please don't tell me that you actually expected him to go to this," Kenny replied from the back seat. He started to drum out a rhythm on the window with his knuckles while aimlessly staring out the window.

"Well...I…" Clyde paused, then sighed. "I was hoping that maybe this time would be different."

"Th-that was your first mistake, my fr-fr-friend," Jimmy said.

He placed his crutches on the seats behind him before buckling himself in. He glanced over at Kenny and nudged his leg. When Kenny finally looked over at him, Jimmy nodded at his seat belt. Kenny rolled his eyes and reluctantly buckled in as well.

"Guys, I gotta keep some hope alive. Shit, what do I even have without that?" asked Clyde.

"A pretty sweet guitar and the skill to use it," Token said as he started the car. "Not to mention a fucking debut record that is about to come out in a few weeks and a tour that will take you across the country. I'd say that's a lot."

Clyde smiled. "Thanks, man. That helps me put things in perspective. Why do you gotta be so damn smart?"

Token laughed through his nose. "Smart, huh? According to my parents, I was quite the idiot for skipping college and thinking we could make this a living. Thank god they came around right before we got the contract offer. My dad sure saved our asses with all that legal bullshit."

"Yeah, remind me to get him a fruit basket or some shit to thank him for that," said Clyde.

Token pulled out onto the road and the four of them headed home to their apartment that they had been sharing together since they left South Park.

Living together had been a major change for all of them. They had started their band in South Park, and that's where they were based for about three years. Clyde had convinced the others that in order to take their band to the next level, they needed to move to a city. Any major city, really, but Denver had been the closest.

Token had moved from the posh lifestyle that he had grown up with—even if he had still been living with his parents. It was a drastic change in standard of living, but he was happy for the independence. For Kenny, sharing a modestly sized apartment with four of his closest friends was a huge upgrade from his family's nearly condemned house that he had lived in his whole life. Clyde and Jimmy had been roommates ever since they graduated high school, mainly because both of their parents had kicked them out, eager to reclaim their empty nest. Moving in with the others wasn't that big of a change for them, except that the dude smell was a lot stronger and much more pervasive.

Tweek had been the only one to live alone previously. He had moved out of his childhood home as soon as he was able, and had been talking about getting away from his parents since junior year of high school. One would think that going from living alone to living with four other people would have been a drastic change for Tweek, but it really hadn't. Tweek tended to spend most of his time alone in his room, rarely coming out, except for meals and band practice. He liked to spend most of his time write lyrics in a quiet room, dimly lit by candles, a strong coffee by his side and a burning cigarette in his hand.

Don't take it the wrong way, though. It's not that he didn't like his bandmates. They were his best friends. However, he had always been an awkward kid, and then had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder with some paranoid behaviors in his early teens. He had learned to isolate himself from others. It was a habit that he hadn't quite unlearned as an adult, even as he was adequately medication. This was not common behavior for the lead vocalist of an up and coming rock band.

Except that when Tweek got on stage, it was like he became a different person. Gone was the anxious, twitchy, somewhat paranoid young man that was usually presented to the world. Tweek became bold, brash, and engaging. He held crowds in the palm of his hand. He lost all inhibitions when he was performing. Clyde, Token, Jimmy, and Kenny were a solid band unit on their own, but Tweek was the element that gave the band their identity and their life force.

Which, unfortunately for the rest of the band, was why every interviewer always wanted to know why Tweek wasn't present. Lead singers often were the face of the band to the mainstream public, and right now, on the cusp of their first real tour, they were faceless. What could they really say to those who asked why Tweek wasn't there? That he just didn't want to come? That he was afraid that he'd have a panic attack on camera? The truth was something that would hurt their image as a band, so they had begun to create some excuses that sounded believable. They had worked so far, but it was getting to the point where they were starting to wearing thin.

When they finally arrived home, the living room was still empty and dark.

"I guess Tweek never came out of his room then, huh?" said Kenny.

He flopped down onto the couch and turned on the television. He pushed his worn out sneakers off and placed his sock-covered feet onto the coffee table. Token opened his mouth to scold him for it, but closed it before he actually said anything. It was simply an old reflex he had from living with his parents. In his parent's home, feet were never to be placed on the table. In their Denver apartment, almost anything went. As long as the bills were paid, the trash was taken out, and laundry was done in a timely manner, none of them really cared where feet, hands, or even dicks went.

"This fresh pot of coff-f-ffee would say otherw-wise." Jimmy picked up the glass pot and took a whiff of the contents. "Smells strong. I'd h-have a cup, but Tweek would have my h-head."

"I'm still pissed at him," Clyde brooded in the corner. "Like it wasn't even that long of an interview, and right now we really need to build up hype so we can sell these fucking tickets. It feels like he doesn't even care sometimes. I mean, I know he does, but...ugh, sometimes I wish he would just try harder."

"Have you ever actually told him this?" Kenny asked.

"Well...no."

"There's no time like the present, dude." Kenny raised both his hands in the air, sticking his thumbs up. "I say go for it. What's the worst that can happen? Tweek quits the band and we have no vocalist for the tour?"

"Oh shit, no no no! Then we'd either need to hold auditions or I might be forced to sing! And I'm just back-up vocals at best!"

"Then I guess you shouldn't blow it, huh? Good luck, tiger!"

Clyde scowled at Kenny's sarcastic tone. He loved the guy, but sometimes he could be a jerk. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. It was now or never. Something had to be done about Tweek's absence from the band's tour promoting before it was too late. He pushed his sleeves up his arms and headed toward Tweek's room.

Token chuckled as he sat down next to Kenny on the couch.

"He's cute, thinking that he'd be the one to take over lead vocals," he said, Kenny and Jimmy joining in the laughter.

Clyde knocked on the door in an attempt to be polite. No response. He figured there'd be no response, but he still wanted to give Tweek fair warning that he was about to come in. When he opened the door, the room was even darker than the living room. It would have been near pitch black if it weren't for the few candles that were placed on either side of his bed. Tweek sat cross legged in the middle of the bed, head tilted down, pen cap between his teeth. His still burning cigarette butt sat in his crystal ashtray, giving off a slight glow. Tweek didn't flinch or look up from his spot, even when Clyde closed the door with a fairly loud click.

"So...we're back. Obviously," he awkwardly began.

Tweek didn't answer. He continued to gnaw on the pen cap, deep in thought. Clyde watched him in silence for a moment. Tweek reached a jittery hand out to find his mug of coffee, taking a deep sip once he brought it to his lips. The pen cap somehow managed to stay in his mouth. He quickly placed the mug back on the bedside table and grabbed the pen from his mouth, a noise of excitement cutting through the stagnant air. He furiously scribbled something down in the notebook that sat on his lap. When he was done, he tore the page out. He looked up at Clyde, finally acknowledging his presence, and held it out for him to take.

"Here. New song."

Clyde took it from his hand, not bothering to try to read it in the dim lighting. He folded it up neatly, then stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans, rendering the careful folds worthless.

"Cool. I'll check it out later."

Clyde shifted his weight from foot to foot as he watched Tweek pick up his pack of cigarettes and pull out another one. He knew that he was just procrastinating from the conversation he really didn't want to have, but he rationalized his decision, deciding that it would probably go better once Tweek got some more nicotine into his system.

"So…" Clyde began as Tweek exhaled. "You need to start coming to these interviews, man. Everyone wants to ask you things, to get to know you, and we're running out of excuses. Shit, dude, I've seen some assholes online even saying that you might not be real! That you're just a fucking hologram or something."

Tweek laughed at the comment. "Maybe I am a hologram." He paused, eyes widening as he thought about his words. "Maybe I am a hologram… Wait. Can holograms hold solid objects? Or…is this cigarette also a hologram?"

"Dammit, Tweek! Focus!" Clyde interjected, his voice raising. "I'm serious!"

"You know I can't do interviews, Clyde."

Tweek took another drag off his cigarette and stretched his legs out. He spread them wide enough that his feet hung off either side of the bed. Clyde watched as his face turned to stone.

"It's never gonna happen, so don't waste your breath."

The two men stared at each other, neither flinching. That is, until Tweek flinched. His left eye twitched, as it so often did, and he slipped the cigarette between his lips so that he could grab his pen again.

"That sounds like it could be a lyric," he muttered as he scribbled his previous sentence down.

Clyde let out an irritated sigh. He went to exit, pausing in the open door.

"This isn't over Tweek. We're about to go on the tour that will make or break our career, and I'm not about to let you ruin it for all of us because you're afraid of being interviewed."

He closed the door behind him, leaving Tweek to write down who knows what for lyrics. Tweek wrote constantly. About one third was genius, one third was great after a lot of input and editing from his bandmates, and one third was complete and utter nonsense.

Clyde rubbed his temples. It was time to put his foot down.

Tweek was still holed up in his room later that night. Clyde returned from a trip downtown. He had left with the reasoning of bringing home some pizza, but that hadn't been the main reason he went out. Once he had placed the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and squeezed through the hungry stampede of Token, Jimmy, and Kenny, Clyde made a beeline for Tweek's room, large canvas tote in hand.

Tweek yelped when Clyde burst in through his bedroom door, this time without warning.

"Hey, what gives?!" he asked, hand clutched to his chest.

Clyde turned the bag upside down over Tweek's bed and several magazines fell out. Tweek looked up at Clyde and raised his eyebrow.

"Um...thanks? But I don't really read magazines. Too many ads. That amount of marketing manipulation is too much pressure. I can't buy everything!"

"I told you this wasn't over, Tweek. These are all of the music magazines I could find for sale. I also bought pizza."

Tweek's eyes lit up at the mention of pizza. He started to jump up off the bed, but Clyde's large hand easily pushed him back down.

"Clyde, what the fuck?" He glared at his friend, who had an awfully smug look on his face at the moment.

"Ah-ah-ah! You can't have any pizza yet. You need to stay in here and pick someone you're willing to have interview you. I'm not going to continue to waste my time trying to get you to do a filmed interview, but you have to do a written one."

Tweek looked incredulously at Clyde. "You're kidding. Ha ha, very funny, Clyde."

Clyde smiled sweetly. "You'd better get started and hope you find a person you like real fast. That broccoli, onion, and garlic pizza out there with your name on it isn't getting any warmer."

"Nooo! You're a fucking asshole!"

Clyde left the room with a big smile on his face. He could hear Tweek continuing to curse him out through the door.

About an hour later, Tweek finally emerged from his room. He headed directly for his pizza to grab a slice before heading into the living area where the rest of the band was still watching TV. He dropped a folded magazine onto the coffee table.

"There, you fuckhead." Tweek crossed his arms and sneered. "That guy," he said, pointing at the magazine. "I'll let that guy interview me. No one else. Happy now?"

"It's about fu-fu-fucking time," Jimmy mumbled.

"Yes, we're very happy," Clyde grinned. "Who did you pick? Some award winning journalist who's been in the biz for thirty years? Some buzz worthy up and comer?"

The four men leaned forward to get a better look at the magazine. Tweek had drawn a circle with a sharpie around a small blurb in a light purple box. It was so small, in fact, that most people probably wouldn't bother to pay it any attention. At the bottom of the blurb was the author's name.

Kenny scrunched his nose. "Who the fuck is Craig Tucker?"