Hey guys, back with another chapter. This one was a fun one to write, though I planned for the next chapter I'm currently working on to be apart of this one. It just...felt too drawn out and I wanted to post something. If y'all are okay with smaller chapters every now and then, please let me know. I dig creating this story.
And to everyone that has left a review so far, thank you. Really means alot.
Alright, dueces
Chapter 7: Wear and Tear
The first thing to enter my chiseled ears was a loud…
"BRO!"
My body jolted with a fat hit of adrenaline as my eyes popped open. I found myself staring at the boys of Air Conditioner from the edge of the motel bed; all staring down at me. All shared a face of confusion and slight annoyance.
"The fu-what is this?" James asked, gesturing at me.
I look down at my body. The current state I found myself in. Oh yeah… all the mud, tears and leftover splotches of lime green paint smeared on my punk rock clothing. The mess was everywhere, and my hand was caught in the cookie jar. Well, more like the paint jar, as my left hand rested calmly submerged in whatever paint was left.
Let's Just lie about it.
"Raccoon Attack."
"What?"
"A Raccoon. Attacked. Me…"
Nnnnice。.・゜✭
James responded with a dismissive grunt through their teeth.
Ari still held a confused face.
"I mean, how didn't I hear that? You know me and my iconic sensitive-ass ears." He asked.
We all groaned.
"Yes, we know about your iconic sensitive ears," said James.
"Yeah man." I agreed.
"Was just thinking about them the other day." Chimed Eric.
Ari attempted to continue, "But like, I should hav-"
James interrupted. "Dude, it doesn't really matter. We're down a can of paint, that sucks actual ass. Eric, do we know where we can get some more?"
Eric took a swift glance at his phone to assure James' curiosity.
"Yes, if we leave in five." Eric responded.
James clapped their firm hands together, "Sick, awesome, iconic. Let's get going. Another fine day of punk rock, my dudes."
I exchange a casual grin with my bros.
I pulled myself off the bed and tossed the paint can into the nearest small trash bin. From there, I go to pick up my toothbrush and deodorant by the sink. I was about to grab said items until I got a good look of my face in the mirror. Apart from the lime-green splotches and dots here and there on me and my wares, the left side of my face was caked in a thin layer of dry blood coming from three modestly sized claw marks.
Ah yes, Heilang. What an asshole…
Oh well, not my problem right now. I turn on the sink's faucet and scrub off the blood as much as I can. With my face well washed and now visible and fresh scar on my face. The rest of the crew left for the front desk as I cleaned myself up. Well, as much as I could. Thanks to last night's adventure, my clothes are pretty dirty and we leave in like…
Ah shit, 47 seconds. Gotta scoot.
Breakfast was short. Like 18 seconds short. With taking 10 seconds to run back to the boys at the front desk, that's all the time I had. With the boys already being there, we snagged a few muffins, oranges and stuffed them in our bags and pockets. With the remaining…uh, 19 seconds of our stay, we handed the key back to the front desk, loaded it into the van and scurried down the road.
Hehehehe... You know, it's so funny. It's only been like 3 seconds, but I'm completely stumped on the last thing I just said. The fuck was last paragraph? Reads like a goddamn math problem you'd get in a standardized test that's worth more "points" than it should be and you're most likely going to absolutely decimate your overall score from getting it wrong because the wording was confusing. Is it a math question or a dig at my english comprehension? Honestly, don't care, I don't dig math. Thank god I'm not in school anymore.
I was driving for the day. Lucked on the first drive being fairly short, at least in comparison to tonight's feat. This drive'll be 3 hours away from our gig today in Northern California, tonight I'll be driving back up to the edge of Idaho. Why the drastic inconstant paths? Because it's a tour. If it was smooth sailing, it wouldn't be worth it.
We're fifteen minutes into our highway ventures and we're all still arguing about what to listen to. While I share the belief that whoever sits in the passenger seat gets dibs on radio/music selection, Ari's choices sucked donkey balls. As did everyone's but mine.
Ari groaned, "listen man, I just don't want to listen to 3 hours of isolated drum tracks."
I scoff, "well…that's just ridiculous. How can you really feel the music if you don't hear the heartbeat?"
"My right eardrum has been getting plenty of punk rock drums for the last three weeks. I am sooooo feeling the music. But bro, can't we just chill with some Godspeed, You Black Emperor?"
"The drum track on The Police's "Bed's Too Big Without You" not chill enough?"
James and Erik share a chuckle in the back. I smile a little.
"Oh yeah, sure dude. HIt me with your taste like an asshole. Thanks. Not that I'm in the passenger seat or anything."
"Yeah dude, you ar-"
"Exactly. And I should have passenger seat privileges."
"You would if your music didn't suck."
Ari chuckled. "Naw dog, your shit's cringe."
I looked at him bewildered, tears almost forming.
James speaks up, "Do some radio roulette, alright? You now, like switch through."
Ari and I nod in agreement to James' idea.
Ari began to finagle with the radio's buttons, swishing through AM and FM stations like a mad mad. Only bits of music and NPR rip offs were heard through the frantic clicks.
"We go to the roa-"
"Yeah! Chocolate starfis-"
"And this refrigerator can be yours for only a quick handj-"
"This is TNTJS news here. In most recent news, A waterpark was broken into last ni-"
"She works hard for the mon-"
Wait a sec…
James spoke, "Ayo, go back one!"
Ari turned back at one station and all in the van listented in harder.
"-ocal sources have caught wind of an illegal gathering at Oregon's most well-known waterpark, Snakes and Slides. The gathering consisted of what could best be described as Portland's locals of the 'punk rock' variety. Many bands played on a makeshift stage at the end of a drained wave pool while the late night crowd took part in the quote, 'punk rock music'. This term of the festivities was best put by one concert goer we currently have with us on the air. On now is Billy Clark interviewing the concert goer. Billy?"
We all looked at each other with either shit eating grins or shocked expressions.
"No flippin' way..." Ari said with excitement.
"That's us!" James added.
"Totally us, my Dudes." congratulated Erik.
Various slides of self-congratulations were thrown in the van before we shushed each other to lisented back into the radio.
"-orts of minor damages were caused to the backlot fence of the establishment in addition to a bit of cuts and bruises on private security guards that attempted to end the show. While local authorities see the situation as no more than 'a rowdy bunch of youngsters having a fun night out', the owner of Snakes and Ladders, Chud Thudson, does not see it the same way."
"Oh?" I said with some cheeky amusement and curiosity. Wonder what that turnt wonderbread of a monopoly play-piece has to say.
The soothing and commanding voice of the news guy was kicked out of our drums and replaced with the slimey tamber of Chud Thudson himself.
"Absolutely deplorable and sickening to my old heart!" Said Chud in his garlic-soaked, little-italy accent. "No one pulls a fast one on Chud Thudson and gets away wit' it. If you thinks this is gonna be water under the ponte della paglia by the end of the week, ohohohohohoho… buddy o' pal o' mine, you got another thing coming. I won't rest until these so called 'punks of rock' are brought to justic-."
I snorted at the last he just said. Jesus, this guy's funny. Various chuckled insured.
The Thudson continued, "I will hunt you down, I will get my hands on all you rascals. And as long as Chud Thudson is kicking and making the best waterpark experience for family members young and old for the afordabble price of $65.87 per groups of 4, I will have justice."
…
"Well… that was Chud Thudson, Owner of Snakes and Slides Waterpark. Up next, Can you really own a shirt with a band logo without knowing the drummer's first-born son's name and blood type? Find out next on TNTJS News with me, your host, James P. Madison. And now the weather."
We all looked back at each other with a sense of victorious pride among us.
"Freakin' sticking it to the man, my guys!" I congragulate while throwing a quick but firm fistpump into the air.
Various hell yeah's were passed around.
We all took a moment to flaunt our ego for being so god damn punk rock. We did this until Ari was first to question the reality of the situation, like a fool.
"We Shouldn't be worried about that weird little tyrad he just went on, right?" he asked causally.
"Nah, man. I wouldn't." James assured Ari.
"Yeah?" Ari asked.
"I mean like, yeah. I don't really see a threat with him."
"I mean…yeah I mean like, I don't he's the biggest problem. But...dude's got money and shit. What's stopping him from hiring some guys?"
I quipped, "If they're anything like his pretzel-stick-thin private security, no need to worry about those fools."
"Yeah exactly," James said, reaffirming my point. Ari, while still held concern in his eyebrows, reeled back into his seat with complacency for the time being.
I nod at them while keeping my eyes on the road.
As we contined to fight over what music to listen to, we eventually passed the state line of California. Had to take a quick detour to replenish our glow-in-the-dark paint I splurged. It was not secret that the band was still ticked off from the lack of paint I caused. But you know, what are you gonna do? Honestly, I was surprised my racoon story worked on them, but man…gotta be careful. Last thing I need is for my boys to think I'm metally unstable. That'd be pretty cringe.
Passing the state line about an hour ago, Eric was able to direct us to a Lowe's for a quick paint restock. Nothing too punk rock went on in there, just grabbed the can, totally paid for it, and bounced without any issues.
Bada bing boom pow, we're at the gig now.
This gig is at a lovely place called "Skateclaw Mountain Bike Park". Nestled within the thick redwoods of Northern California lies this behemoth of a mountain biker's wet dream, but also normal dream I'd assume. We're playing for a, you guessed it, a mountain bike/music festival. A festival called "Woodshock" to be exact. A festival in which Eric and I have been cheesing about for some time now. Love that shit, man; mountain biking that is. Almost as cool as Punk Rock music, but it's still very punk rock in its own way.
Oh man... this place already looks so freaking sick. Swiftly rolling the Van into a pull-in area by the front entrance, we all quickly filled out. The cloud of dust kicking out from under the van gave it a mystic undertone as our eyes took in our first impressions.
We were greeted by a massive open archway with a graphic of silhouetted biker doing the splits as a mountain bike hit them right in their schochili's all "Jaws-like" on the top. Under the logo ran the title, "Skateclaw MTB Park: Get Your Ball$ Rocked, Nerd!". Fuckin' sick, dude. Past that, led to two areas of interest. To our left held the location of various sized buildings. From a decent sized slab of a hotel meant for the adrenaline-filled overnighters and biking ragers to the smaller pine-wood supported vesicles that housed all things mountain bike related, all said buildings had a cozy but rad cabin vibe to them. Rather impressive if you ask me. Tough, what was more impressive... was what was on the right.
Besides a modest office cabin I'm amsumming is used for buying passes and what not closest to our field of view, just past it... held the natural beast of Skatecalw Hill herself. And on it, from a distance, you could hear it…
The faint sounds of shocks pumping into dirt and stone along with chains clicking as gears shift frantically to keep tires pumping through both challenging terrian. A gentle chaos with only momentary breaths of silence as someone gains the momentum for their well-earned three seconds of flight, only to then be immediately followed by a controlled "Thud" back onto mother nature's domain. The sweet sounds of mountain biking, a chaotic and beautiful thing.
As we Passed through the massive arch, I noticed that my walk had a brighter chip to it. I always walk with confidence, but this walk had some bounce to it. But hey man, I'm just feeling it. With legends like Brandon Semenuk and Vinny Armstrong potentially just around the corner, a walk less chipper than this would be an insult.
Loading in for this place man…so flippin' easy. For one, the owner/person running the show, Ms. Skateclaw herself was excited to meet us. A real Anti-Chud, in the sense that we were actually invited to play at her place… Yeah, so much cooler than that fool.
Conversation mainly consisted of…
Ms. Skateclaw(SC): Air Conditioner, yeah?
James(J): Yeah man.
SC: Sick! Most bands are here, just waiting on two more.
All of AC: *Various 'Cool's and 'yeah man's ensued*
SC:Stage is just past the gear shop and bike rentals. If you have any questions, just ask me or Gus, our sound engineer.
All of AC: *Even more 'Cools' and 'yeah man's*
Erik(E): Thanks dude.
So easy.
All members of Air Conditioner were currently on the stage, setting up gear. For all the gigs so far on this tour, gotta say this stage is feeling the most legit. It's got room for Ari and James to run around, A sick lighting rig above us, a working sound system with a sound engineer that knows their shit. What more could you ask for?
How about having the stage being outside just by the bottom of the bike lift. From where we were gonna be performing, the entirety of Skateclaw Hill will be in view, as well as the brave souls trembling down its bodacious bluffs.
For this show, I will be providing the kit for every band. I'm the "backend bub" of tonight's venture into punk rock. According to Erik, that is what the "group chat" agreed on with the other bands. I ain't complaining, my kit is rather killin'. Speaking of, I was in the middle of setting her up. The Black Beauty.
A 1995 Yahmaha maple custom with natural black finish, two toms, bass drum, and all of the original hardware, this lovely piece of percussive furniture has been with me since day one. Every blunder and beat I've had on stage and off, this kit's been there for me.
I
Love
This kit.
It sounds so flippin' punk rock it's insulting sometimes. How can I put this…the kit physically and mental challenges me to become a better drummer every day. With a kit that sounds this awesome, the only real way to communicate said awesomeness is if the drummer knows their shit. And I know my shit, man. Thanks to this kit alone.
With the "shells" of the kit setup, all that's left are the cymbals. I marched over to my stand bag or "body bag" as I like to call it, (stole that one from Bone's), and began to grab a round of cymbal stands. As I opened up their legs in my hands, I took a brief moment to gaze upon my band mates. James was pretty much set up with their bass leaning on their amp, strings facing the speaker, as they plugged in the XLR-cable into the microphone. Ari was in the middle of tuning his "ax" while Erik stood by his side and checked his I-funny, my best bet at least.
To go back a sec, since my noggin's on the topic of gear, might as well give you an idea of what the other fine bits of punk rock equipment we got going on. James' bass is powerful as it is understated. A robust pizza sauce red p-bass by Fender with a maple neck. It's classic, the basses of basses in the world. But man, once it's plugged in and you got James on it, instant punk rockery. We may dissagree on our political figures, but I'll never be shy to admit their abilities in the art of punk rock music.
As for Ari, I mean…he's a guitarist. I know damn I'm gonna get the specs and some other shit wrong with his vibe. Screw it, boy's got a orange sunburst telecaster that has screamed and dive-bombed every venue we've been to. The sound is woody, haunting, sometimes even ethereal if the boy decides to get goofy with his pedals. But above all else, it's punk rock as hell.
As we wrapped up, we decided to head over to the outside cafe near the stage. Met some of the other bands hanging out, sheshing, getting some grub. All seem pretty chill, though will have to see how punk rock they'll be. Strongest vibe came from one particular band that called themselves "The Red Scare": a russian-influenced ska band from New Mexico. All wearing gnarly clothes with the theme of reds and blacks as their pallet. I can always dig a uniformed look, though to be entirely honest, I'm still sticking out from my boys due to the mess that still presents itself.
I wanted to sit down and enjoy the sesh with the fellow bands, but currently, I look like shit. With a mix of paint and mud smeared on my Air Conditioning clothing, I needed to find a way to clean myself up even more than I did this morning. I began to wander around the cafe area connecting next to the stage and hotel for anything I could use to clean my clothes. While my chances for finding a working laundry machine out in the open were slim, doesn't hurt to check. As I walked around, I could see the lady running operations, Ms. Skateclaw, running around the park with with her offical dark red "Skateclaw Music Festival" T-shirt on and a clipboard in hand, 'crossing her T's and dotting her I's' so to say. From the spunk in her quick walk, Ms. Skateclaw looked determined to make this first day of her festival a killin' one. While in her strut, she must've sensed me in my state of wandering as she began to beeline in to me with haste and friendly smile. Her Merrell hiking boots stomped with authority as she got closer.
She was young, or at least younger than you'd expect. I'd say like five or so years older than me, definatley looked to be in her late 20s. That being said, with her being the head honcho running this place at such a young age, people would assume that she got her position form inheritance. Nah, man. The way that she says "Sick"...only can be done by a person who knows their shit.
"Heya! You doing good?" She asked.
"Oh yeah, no it's been amazing ever sense we got here," I point towards the stage with my left hand, "This stage is sick."
"Isn't it?" She said with excitment. "Yeah, got my boys to install it within the last 8 months or so. Let me tell ya man, it's been doing wonders for everyone."
"Yeah?" I question.
"Oh dude, you know. You know what it's like. We've been doing shows like these ever since. The hotel guest love it, the bikers love it, making serious profits on our end, I mean we should've been doing this for a long time."
"Yeah, man." I nod in agremment with her. "Happy to be a part of it."
She nodded before shaking her head.
"Uh, sorry. I came over here cause it looked like you were looking for something. My bad, I got distracted."
I wave my hand nonchalantly towards Ms. Skateclaw.
"Nah, don't worry about it. You're cool you're cool...but yeah."
I gestured to myself, more importantly my clothes.
"I look like shit right now."
That earned a little chuckle out of her.
Quickly to compose herself, she responds.
"Heheh, alright man. Well if you need to clean up a bit, we have a public laundry room in the hotel just right of the main lobby. Here..." She began to dig through her left pocket of her green cargo pants that tucked into her boots. The jangling of keys filled my ears as she pulled out one attached to a small card.
"Just use this. If any of my staff ask, just say Natalie sent you."
"Natalie...alright, sick. Thanks."
And from that, I took my leave to head on into the hotel's laundry room. As I removed all articles of clothing except for my underwear, I threw in my said plie of stench into the first available machine I could find. Splashing in some complementary community degtergent and hitting the 'causal' setting, I grabbed a towel by the room's entrance, wrap it around my waist, and head outside with a my phone and newly aquired key in hands.
I only felt comfortable with walking out in only a towel because I saw some other guys in that room do the same. Did they forget to bring an extra pair of clothing like me or just wanted to feel the northern air on their chest? Don't know, don't care; I'm down with whatever these biking bros and bras are doing. Besides, the early afternoon did feel quite nice on the chest and I'm not too shy about my body anymore. Besides from my toned legs caused by the punk rock, I have a build that closely remesmbles that of a mountain biker; of which I use to do. I love mountain biking because I use to do it. Not in anyway as good as these literal lengeds all around this park, but I had fun with it. And watching them curretnly tear up the berms a few hundered feet away from where I was leaning porch-side, it's...it's creating some mix of...conflicted emothions?
I dont know, I'm not too good with that kinda stuff. But...I guess the best way to put it is...I dig that shit, I think it's cool...and I miss it...
...
Oh, well. It's whatever, maybe some other time. Right now, I got punk rock music to worry about, and I will give it my all. After all, I'm the Drummer for Air Conditioner.
After chilling for a solid hour in and our of the laundry room, I finally got my Air Conditioner clothes passable again. Sick. From there, I put on said slacks back on and hit a trail back over to my AC boys. There was still about an hour before the event began and we were first to go on. After returning the keys and thanking Ms. Skateclaw, I sat down with my boys on the side of the stage to talk setlist.
"Alright..." James spoke, "I was thinking hitting them with Condition the Air, Girl What's your Number, then immideatley with Punk Rock Girlfriend."
Agreeable grunts within our circle insued.
"Really just no holding back on this set." Ari said joyfully.
"No other way to it. These biker's deserve our best bangers." I add, "We should hit them with our drop D section after that."
...
"Hell...yeah. Punk rock, my dude." James aggred with a twinkle in their left eye and a soft chuckle pass their strong teeth. They continue.
"How about I'm Not a Fan then Paper Life?"
"Hard pass. Do it the other way around." I say.
"Why?" James Asked.
"Both go hard, extremely hard. But I'm Not a Fan...goes just a little bit more. We should build up to it."
James raised a brow in my direction.
"Nah dog, what're you talking about? Paper Life is clearly the one that edges between the two. Build up to that one."
...
"I'm Not a Fan." I state, correctly.
"Paper Life." James stated, like a stuipid idiot - so freaking stupid, oh my god.
"I'm Not a Fan."
"Paper Life."
"I'm Not a Fan."
"Paper Life."
"I'm No-Paper Li-I'm Not a-Paper L-I'm Not a Fa-Pap-"
This went on for some time before we both agreed on one thing...
"ARI!" we both shouted, causing our boy to bounce in shock as his large set of hair stood up.
"Oh sorry dude." We both said. It's heated, but that's no reason to startle your bro in punk rock music.
James spoke, "You should choose which one to do first."
"Yeah, man. which one?" I add as we both look at him in anticipation.
"Eh..." He mustered out, not with too much confidence.
"I mean they're both slappers..." He adds.
"Right." said James.
"Of Course." I add.
"But um...hmmmmm...what if w-"
The boy's brittle banter was bommbarded by a confident interjection from Erik.
"We're doing I'm Not a Fan then Paper Life. I flipped a coin on my phone, it's decided."
James pumped up their arm into the air.
"Hell Yeah! Benjamin Harrison's definietly not geting called out tonight."
...
What?
I was going to interject...But then James said that. I looked at them with shocked eyes as they quickly looked at me with look that felt like they knew something that...I did not. Oh great...here come those confusing emotions again. Like...Hell yeah, no Benjamin Harrison blunder tonight confirmed...but why did James say it like that? Did they...Did they hear me when I complained about them in Seattle? I thought that they...
Hey! Drummer! Snap out of it!
Come on, we don't have to focus on this. We got to be ready, be the hearbeat. Your the Drummer, remember?
Your focus needs more focus...
...
I'm the Drummer for Air Conditioner.
Pulling myself out of my head, I decide to chime in back with the group.
"Punk. Rock, my dudes!" I yell at the group, hyping us up.
To which the rest of Air Conditioner continue with the hype hijinks.
Yeah man, punk rock music...
With fifteen minutes before out set, I left myself by the side of the stage to warm up with some stick tricks and a few couple of pushups. My body was puming and the punk rock music was flowing in my viens. I was feeling it. As the rest of Air Conditoner got thier game faces on beside me, the confidence in the air was making the vibe get stronger. You could just tell...this show was gonna slap.
And right I was...
From the Ms. Skateclaw giving the introduction for the festival to the first biker of the day, a guy by the name of Cody Korksaje, getting ready for the first tumble down the hill, we ran onto the stage with a decent sized crowd full to the brim of mountain bikers, ethusiast of said sport, some kids even; all ready for the punk rock.
And man...did we deliver.
It went all by in a flash but man...that was easily our best show we've done in a long while. Hell, probably this whole tour even. It was all there: the hype, the bangers, every groove was a solid as a punk rock, Ari solos slapped, James was Killlllllllinnnn' it with the vocals and crowd-work, and the crowd slurped up every last bit of our energy. Speaking of James, they held up their bargin...no Benjamin Harrison callout. Sick, very sick. Yeah...this was seriously one of our best sets. I loved it.
So.
Freaking...
Punk Rock, my dude!
After that set, all we did was party with the rest of the bands in the crowd. The band after us was called "Larson's Expert Village". Holy shit were they bad, but I got to do some hardcore dancing with some guys from "The Red Scare". Threw in "fist pumps" and "Jumping up and down" while they hit me with some crazy cossack-type dance moves. Guys were in-sync, locked in, and absolutley tearing on the dance floor. And just when you thought they couldn't go any harder, they stared their set right after the bad band. The Red Scare had banger after banger. The crowd was digging it and the bikers going down seemed to be getting more risky with their moves due to how pumping the vibe was.
And the show kept going...
Band after band, set after set, the sun was starting to disappear beyond Skateclaw Hill, bringing a close to the first night of the music festival. While other bands from tonight's set were planning on staying the night in the hotel, Air Conditioner sadly had to bounce. More tragic was that I was the one driving this long trek back up to Idaho. But oh well, it's whatever. After as killing as a show as tonight was, nothing can mess with the mood.
From packing up our gear, to saying our goodbyes to the bands and, of course, Ms. Skateclaw, we hopped into our van and headed out into the early night.
I got James by my right side in the passanger seat while Ari and Erik chilled in the back. James pulled up the directions to...Idaho...while we all started to get comfortable. And getting comfortable was of the essence, because this drive gonna be like, 8 hours. Fun.
"Aight, so get on here." James said to me, pointing to the merging lane on the highway.
"Got it."
A little bit of silence filled the car. Not the awkward kind, just the exhausted kind. But Ari was first to break it with a sizable gasp.
"Everything good, dude?" Eric asked with concern.
Ari held his head up with something on his mind, right on the tip of his tongue.
We all waited with furrowed brows.
"We are...idiots, man." He said, confusing all of us.
James chuckled out a "What do you mean?"
"Dudes...Crush 40. Why didn't we just listen to Crush 40?"
...
Oh my god...he's so right...
"Oh my god...Ari, you're so right." I said.
Everyone agreed with very passionate grunts of approval.
"Ari, you freaking genius." James added, "We should've been doing this since the morning!"
"I know! That's what I'm saying, man!"
I'm...way too tired to get into why Crush 40 is the abosulte pinacle of music. That'll be saved for another day, another time. Right now, "City Esacpe" was blasting and you know damn well we were all belting those lines. God I love Crush 40. Got I lov-
Okay...The drive was suppose to be 8 hours...we got to our destionation in about 4...
...
Was I driving illegally? I...don't...remember.
Pretty convinced that I blacked out.
Hey man. That's just the power of Crush 40. Can't complain and I wont.
Not to waste anytime, the boys and I did our usuall night-time shpeil. Checked in with the motel, went to our room, washed up and began to konk out.
Today was...killin' man.
Absolutley nothing could bring down this current high I was ridding.
Laying myself on top of the comforter next to James, I realaxed my body and prepared for the konk.
...
And then the universe blinked...
The aroma of a pissed off animal entered my nostrills as I opened my eyes slowly.
"You. are. late." An old but nettled voiced grinded through their teeth.
...
"Good morning." I chimed with a nervous smile.
"It's noon."
"Fuck."
See you around!
Leave a review if you'd like