Obscura ~ Age 17

Dave drummed his fingers against the amp. He ran through the song in his mind. And again. And again. And—

"Sorry! I need you to move a bit, is that okay?"

He barely spared the girl a glance. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." He stood and wheeled the amp off to the side. "How's that."

"Okay, perfect! Thanks."

"No problem." He promptly sat down again. Did he have all the proper records? Yeah, he did. Shit. What was he getting anxious for? He'd done this a thousand times. Well, not a thousand. Maybe a hundred, though. Either way, it was old news. It wasn't something to get all worked up about like a little kid. This was stupid.

"You nervouss?"

Dave glanced up. "Nice 3D glasses, bro. You a hipster or what."

"I could say the same, Sstarssky." The lanky boy folded his arms, smirking. "You're Sstrider, right?"

"Yeah. Sup."

"You're on before uss, then." He tapped the clipboard in his hand. Dave's eyes flicked to his name on the list, TG Strider, right below Arisen Blind.

"Oh. That your band."

"Assuming that wass a quesstion, yess, it iss. Well, our band."

"Cool."

"I'm pretty sstoked to hear your beatss, man. You'd better deliver."

"Get the fuck in line," Dave replied. "And I always deliver. I am the king of delivery. Pizza boys look up to me like a fucking god. 30 minutes or less, bitch."

"Heh. You're pretty sstrange, you know?"

"Sso are you. What the fuck iss your point."

"Touche."

"Why are you here."

"I'm on after you, fuckass. I jusst ssaid that."

"No shit, douchebag. Why are you talking to me."

"Ssomeone woke up on the wrong sside of the bed today. Whatss wrong, grumpy nubss?"

Dave froze. "What."

"What what?"

"What did you just call me."

"Grumpy nutss. Jeguss, you'd better sshape up or you won't be able to hear those ssick beatss you are sso intent on delivering. That'ss okay, though, more love for the resst of uss then. Heh."

"My hearing is perfect, thanks. I have bat-level audio skills. I can bounce a fucking sound wave off a nickel and make it spin to infinity."

"Leet, bro."

"Oh Gog, you're one of those."

"Sscuse me?"

"Your gamer puns better be good, man. I'll have to revoke your fucking license if they aren't."

"Nah, I'm not one of thosse. I doubt my other half would be sso chill with me writing lame gaming ssongss."

"So don't listen to that flighty broad."

"No, man. Sshe's pretty cool. I don't want to write sshitty ssongss like that, anyway."

Dave shrugged, indifferent. "Whatever makes you happy."

"Yeah." And he smiled.

Dave's eyes travelled to the clock on the back wall. Was it that late already? "Time's up." He stood up, grasping the handle of the cart. "Gotta go strut myself like the god of the turntables that I am." Without a second thought, he began to push it onto the stage. He only had a few minutes to set everything up, but he had it under control. He had done it a hundred times before, after all. In a flash, everything was in place.

The curtain fluttered then opened.

Running his fingers along the grooves of his records, he smiled a little to himself. Time for the turntechGodhead to do what he was best at.

"You ready to make this happen."