Greg Universe was a musician by heart. He sung often as a child. He was always listening to what was new, or, at least what you could get in Beach City. Beach City was an isolated town where the only thing to do was go to the beach. The boardwalk had a whole bunch of things to do, but most of which involved summer, making winter a terrific bore, and for Greg and his friend Eric, January 8th was just another boring day with nothing to do. It rarely snowed, but it was far to cold to go to the beach, and the boardwalk couldn't get customers in winter. All of the businesses packed up mid November and got winter jobs at fast food places and gas stations.
To sum it all up, Greg had nothing to do. He couldn't think of anything to write songs about. He had no girlfriend, and all Eric did was eat. Greg was poor, he made hardly any profit in the music business. He had a concert the next day, and had failed to sell a single ticket. No body felt like doing anything in Beach City. Even those circus performers that lived down on the beach seemed bored.
Eric was in charge of selling tickets, but he hadn't left the house since the show was announced. Greg was furious. Not just at Eric, but the luck he was having made him even angrier. He had a hard time staying mad at people, but Eric, just, infuriated him. He had done nothing outside of the kitchen in the last two days. Greg decided to confront Eric, and get him to sell tickets.
When Greg opened the door; though, Eric was nowhere to be seen. A large note was left on the fridge. Greg, curious as he was enraged, plucked the note from the fridge.
Dear Greg
The music business just isn't working out. I took the money I made at Beach'a Palooza and bought myself a garage a few miles up north. I'm sorry Greg, your music isn't bad, your concerts are. Why would people head down to the concert hall to do something they could replicate with a stereo and a 6 pack. We were going to sink. Yellowtail agrees with me, this concert is going to have to be your last. I won't sell your tickets anymore. I'm so very sorry.
Eric
As if Greg's luck wasn't already bad enough. Greg sighed. He'd have to sell his tickets by himself.
Greg walked past house after house, ringing doorbells. Half the homes didn't even answer the door. Nobody even bought a single ticket. Greg eventually made his way to the Big doughnut. Two people sat behind the counter. One was a sixteen year old girl, and the other was a man in his thirties.
"I'll take that one" Greg said, pointing at a doughnut at least a foot in diameter.
The young girl took the doughnut and tried to put it in a bag.
"I'll just eat it here" Greg said.
Greg sat himself down at a table. He began to eat his doughnut. The glaze helped his mood a little, but not much.
"That doughnut is a cry for help if I ever saw one"
Greg turned to see a man standing over his table.
"Yah, just on of those days" Greg told the man. "I tour all over the country and made just enough money to, I don't know, open a car wash. Then I make it back home and nobody will buy my tickets"
The man sat down to reveal that he was the person behind the counter for the Big Doughnut.
"Y'know, I'm thinking of starting my own pizza place on the boardwalk" he said. "And I have just not been able to come up with the money" he continued.
The man handed Greg a few dollars.
"But that does not mean I can't spend some money and time to help you out. I can't attend your concert myself, but I'll find someone who will" He said confidently. I took the money and gave him a ticket.
"Thank you"
Greg was unsatisfied with the few dollars he had made. He hardly had enough money to keep his house. He might have to live in his van. With nothing to do, Greg trotted home, and awaited the dreaded night of the concert.
The next morning, Greg was awakened by a ringing of his doorbell. He walked from his room to the front door. He stretched his arm out and opened his door. A note fell from his doorknob. It looks like he was going to end up living in his van.
Greg slouched through his day, only getting up to practice for tonight, which he found worthless, and eating. He filled the empty space by watching Lil' Butler.
The time of the concert finally came. Greg had to pack up his belongings that night. He could not think of away his night could get worse. He got to the concert hall to see it had no cars parked in the lot.
Greg went into the back door with my ukelele. He made my way on stage slowly. The theater had had a concert in it earlier today, but it already smelled like mildew. The curtains were slightly off. From the wings Greg could see that the microphone was knocked over, and that the seats were empty.
Greg walked on stage anyways. He brought a chair from the wings. He stuck the chair down right in front of the mic. He sat down. With nothing to do he waited to see if anyone would come.
He stood up. It had been an hour and nobody was coming. He kicked his chair and plucked a string.
Clap
Clap
Clap
Greg turned to see a beautiful woman sitting in the front row. He recognized them as one of the women who lived down on the beach.
"You going to play something" She asked.
Greg, filled once again with confidence, began to play.
I know I'm not that tall
I know I'm not that smart
But let me drive my van into your heart
Let me drive my van into your heart
I know I'm not that rich
I'm trying to get my start
So let me drive my van into your heart
Let me drive my van into your heart
And if we look out of place
Well, baby, that's okay
I'll drive us into outer space
Where we can't hear what people say
Let me drive my van into your heart
Let me drive my van into your heart
Let me drive my van into your heart
Let me drive my van into your heart
The End.