"Really? You can't hit a simple chord, Tiny? Really. It's like you expect me to do all the work! What've we been practicing for? Lunkheads, the lot of you! Stupid, worthless..."

Murdoc Niccals, self-proclaimed musical genius, was having a rough time with his newest band, Murdoc and the Niccals. It certainly wasn't the first time. At 31, he had plenty of experience with failure. Nothing was going to plan. He was supposed to have a fantastic band by age 22, become a worldwide phenomenon by age 25, and have his own clothing line by age 27! He had spent his entire life trying to make a success! Surely, after all his time and effort, he should be rewarded?

He knew it wasn't his fault. He was charming, sexy, and simply brimming with talent. His other band members? Not so much. He gazed at them now, standing limply with their instruments, mouths drooling with stupidity. Murdoc had spent weeks trying to find them, to no avail it seemed. This band looked to be his biggest failure since This Show Is Cancelled.

Billy Boy and Tiny stood with their guitars, waiting for his command to start playing them again. Billy Boy was thin, lanky, and more than a bit awkward. Murdoc had found the sorry fellow crying in a dumpster, lamenting the loss of his pet crocodile, Steve. Billy had joined simply to get his mind off the tragedy. He rarely took the band seriously and often attempted to eat while playing guitar, which didn't fare very well. Tiny was, ironically, a massive man, with colossal hands and arms. Was there a problem with his large size? Not really, except for the fact that he broke every instrument he attempted to play.

Crunch had fallen asleep near his drum set. Murdoc groaned. There was an interesting story as to how he found him. One day, Murdoc was out drinking when he spotted a handsome man drinking next to him. He somewhat remembered asking him about his favorite bands, which led them to talking about playing drums. The man agreed to play in Murdoc and the Niccals. Only after the alcohol had worn off did he realize that Crunch was actually rather ugly, and knew nothing about music.

Rocky was easily Murdoc's favorite band member, besides himself, of course. The two knew each other from their reckless High School days. Murdoc had hastily brought him in to play the keyboard after no one else had auditioned for the part. He convinced himself that Rocky was a natural at it, and only needed a bit of practice to hone his skills. Right now he still needed to learn the difference between the black keys and the white keys, but other than that, he was progressing nicely.

The day's work had given Murdoc a headache. The basement they were playing in had good acoustics, which was great if the music one was playing was actually decent, but not so great if one was playing the music of hell. The screeching of guitars and banging of drums were bouncing around in his head, threatening to make him lose his sanity. He decided enough was enough.

"Alright, I've made a decision," Murdoc stated. "We're not playing on Saturday night." No one seemed to care. He quietly crept upstairs, slamming the door on his way out.

"Stupid, brainless gits!" he roared. "That's the last straw! If I have to spend one more second with those morons..."

He needed to get out of the house for a while. Heading outside, it was nice to hear noises that weren't grating on his eardrums. Birds were chirping, a light breeze blew from the south, and cars passed by idly on their way to work. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, Murdoc sighed and reviewed his options.

He could devote his time to creating another band, but at this point, it seemed to be a waste of his effort. Murdoc's Burning Sensations, Patchouli Clark, Kiss 'n' Make Up, Bullworker, Crimson Backdraft, Motley Dude, The Stupid Name Gang, Durango 95, Two's A Crowd. All of them had been complete failures. He could get a job, but how would he go about doing that? Being a satanist didn't leave many opportunities for work.

It wasn't fair! This was his lifelong dream! To be in a band, loved and respected, the voice of a generation!

"I'd do anything to be famous!" he shouted to himself.

"Anything?"

The voice startled Murdoc, causing him to lose his balance and fall off the bench. Craning his neck to the direction he thought the voice had come from, he found himself facing a dark alley between two tall buildings. He blinked a few times before looking again.

"I've finally done it," he muttered. "I've finally lost my mind. I'm hearing things."

"No, Murdoc," The voice was a faint whisper, just barely audible. "You're getting your wish. Just come here and accept it."

If Murdoc hadn't been driven by desperation, then perhaps he would have never listened. But alas, he did, and one of the biggest regrets of his life came into fruition. After checking to see that no one was looking, he darted into the alleyway.