A/N: hey this is my friends' story as you will find out… I'll just let her explain… the rest of this is hers not mine…
A/N: Hi guys, I'm Hanna. Long story short, this is not my account.
Well, here's the long story. I'm basically really lazy and don't wanna make my own account, so my friend is nice enough to post it for me on hers.
A bit of background info: This story is set in August 2011. A lot of it is factually correct, as Marianas Trench did, in fact, perform at the CNE in Toronto in late summer (I would know, I went!). The people in this story are real, but should their last names appear, those will be changed to save them from creepers on Facebook and the like.
DISCLAIMER: I would be doing far better things with my spare time if I owned Marianas Trench. Far, far, better things.
But if a certain ginger is reading this, Charlotte does belong to me. Now go polish my copy of Fix Me.
Shiny Side Down
Chapter 1
"Thank you Toronto! You've been a great audience!" Josh Ramsay grinned as he waved to the audience- a massive crowd of excited fan girls and the occasional fan boy –he blew one of his famous air-french kisses before handing his guitar to Brett and walking offstage.
"That was freaking awesome!"
Josh turned around to see his band mate and best friend since high school, Matt, leaning against a wall and sipping a protein shake. Josh chuckled, detaching sweaty strands of blue and black hair from his forehead.
"I know. Did you see those girls who threw a sphere onstage? They even wrote their phone number on it…" He straightened his red tie as Mike Ayley, their bassist, entered the room.
"I swear if another glow-stick hits me in the face I will-"
Mike's voice was cut off by a piercing scream from the next room. Moments later, Ian Casselman practically knocked down the door, fro' dishevelled and eyes wide.
"I'M OUT OF CONDITIONER!" he yelled, looking hilariously terrified. Matt stared at him, unperturbed.
"Dude, I don't really think you need conditioner. Your hair's fine." The guitarist remarked, absentmindedly twirling one of his earrings.
Ian's normally sleepy eyes burned with satanic flame.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? ARE YOU SAYING THAT US FRO-WEARER'S DON'T REQUIRE MOSTURIZED HAIR?" he screamed, stepping towards Matt.
Mike took a moment to admire his feet. "Umm…"
Josh let out a chortle, relaxing on a straight-backed chair "Ian, go get your hair shit, and please don't kill Matt. I think I'll take a nap…" he mumbled, letting his eyelids fall shut as their drummer stalked off muttering something about Pantene and dandruff control.