Title: Or Was it 1986?
Fandom: Corner Gas
Genre: General/Humour
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Comments: Just wanted to write some Thunderface stuff. Brent, Hank and Wanda are so awesome.
The year was 1985.
Or was it 1986?
None of them really remembered anymore; those teenaged years had since melded into one another, chronology lost in a cacophony of loud music and bad haircuts. Hank would sometimes refer to such times as 'the good old days'. Wanda refused to call them that because it made her feel old. Brent didn't feel the need to call them anything; he didn't see a point in mentioning them.
The year was sometime in the eighties; the location, Garage 76 (or, in layman's terms, Brent's parents' garage). Three colourfully-dressed teens were draped across the concrete garage floor side by side, staring up at the single bare light bulb that dangled from the ceiling above their heads.
"Come on, it's not that hard!" Wanda sat up suddenly, looking down at her two companions that lay on either side of her. She brushed off her puffy skirt as she spoke; the garage floor was rather dusty, caked in sawdust from Mr. Leroy's many unfinished projects that lined the walls of the garage. "It's not like we're naming… a kid… or a breakfast cereal or anything. It's a band, does it really matter that much?"
"What?" Hank tilted his head to look up at her, "Are you kidding? It's like… it's like we're naming a… a fire breathing dragon on a motorbike, man."
"What the he—"
"Wanda," Brent began, sighing as he too rose to a sitting position, "I think what Hank's trying to say is that band names require a certain amount of badassery… Much like a fire breathing dragon on a motorbike."
"Maybe a leather jacket, too…" Hank said to himself. He heard Wanda's frustrated sigh from his left and felt her again drop to the floor beside him.
"Attonbitus Visio," she said.
"No," Hank said flatly. He smirked, able to imagine the expression she had on her face at that moment, and braced himself for the inevitable smack she'd lay to his head. Sure enough, she hit him, but not exactly in the place he'd anticipated.
"Yeah, forget that noise," Brent chuckled from Wanda's opposite side, also earning himself a smack across his arm from his less-than-enthused friend.
"Let's hear your bright ideas, then," she huffed.
"Thunderface," Hank said simply.
"Whoa, there's no need for name calling, man," Brent scowled, leaning up to shoot a glare past Wanda at Hank.
"No, for the band," Hank said, smiling, "Yeah, come on, that's totally awesome."
"It does have a certain level of badassery," Brent mused, "I like it."
"It's probably the least ridiculous name you're ever gonna come up with," Wanda remarked
"Aw, thanks!"
"Where'd you get that name?" Brent asked, unable to believe that Hank had actually given birth to a good idea. There's a first time for everything, he kept telling himself, but a small part of him found it unnerving.
Hank sniffed, "Hehe, check it out," he pointed to the ceiling. His best friends' gazes followed to where he had gestured, to a stain on the ceiling tiles, "doesn't that stain kind of look like your old man getting struck in the face by lightning?"
"A little, I guess. It does have the glasses…"
"Well!" Wanda clapped her hands together emphatically and sprung to her feet, "that's enough of that!"
She grabbed her bass guitar as her companions rose to their feet more slowly.
"Let's make some noise, Wonderpants."
"It's Thunderface."
