WHAM!
Stomp stomp stomp.
William didn't look up from re-stringing his bass. Nathan was home, and from the way he was stomping around, he was not in a good mood. Not that that was an uncommon occurance these days.
"Schtill no luck?" he asked unecessarily as Nathan sat down heavily in the worn out armchair, cracking open a beer and drinking almost all of it in one gulp.
"Fucking dildo jack-offs assholes..." was Nathan's only reply. That was how William knew he was mad. Nathan was inarticulate at the best of times, but when he was reduced to a string of curses and insults, look out. He resumed his ministrations on his bass. If Nathan wanted to talk, he would talk when he was good and ready.
"You know what the problem is, Will?" Nathan thundered without waiting for an answer. "Everyone in this fucking town is scared."
William looked confused. That was not what he was expecting. "Schcared," he repeated. "Schcared of what?
"Yeah. People see us, and it's just us, and they see that we're good, but if I ask them to join, it's all 'no, you're too poor, you're too unknown, there's no money here' and they take off for other dildoes that are bigger than us but they suck."
"I schee." Nathan was right. It was hard to get people to join up with an unknown band - especially one that currently only consisted of a singer and a bassist. But Nathan was new to the whole music business - had he even been in any band before? William didn't know, but he didn't have the heart to tell him that this was pretty normal.
"They don't think...don't think we'll ever be anything. Maybe...I think...they could be right."
"Don't schay that." William hesitated. He wasn't good at saying emotional things, but somehow, the words came easily for once. "It'sch you. You think scho big, the othersch can't schee it. They've been here too long. They've scheen too many failuresch. They schee a mountain in front of usch. You juscht schee a hill."
"But which one is right?"
"Neither. And both. Schome fail. Schome don't. But you're different, Nate. You don't schee it like that. We're going to make it, and we'll schow all those dildo-lickers what they missched out on."
Nathan looked at him for a long time, taking in his words. Finally, a tiny smile crept on to his face. "That might be the smartest thing you ever said."
The next day, he recruited an out of work guitarist name Magnus Hammerstorm, and kid from Sweden who could barely speak English but could play guitar like a god.
It wasn't much, but it was something. They were conquering the mountain.
