Disclaimer: Sue me if you want...I have no money, so either way you'd lose...
A/N: This chapter contains Scott-bashing, so if you like him, you probably won't want to read it....
Scott, Rogue, and Bobby glared at Tabby and Jubilee.
"Who's brilliant idea was is to have Ray play bass when HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW??" stormed Bobby.
Jubes and Tabby pointed at each other, which only frustrated everyone else more.
"She said-"
"Jubes told me that-"
"Did not!"
"Liar!"
"Don't call me a liar, trailer trash!"
"Oooh, bring it on!"
"HEY!!!" Bobby yelled at them. The two girls were standing nose to nose, both angry about the comments the other had made. "Look, let's just forget it. Scott, wanna play something for us on those drums of yours?" asked Bobby, trying to get the girls to calm down.
"Ok. Here goes nothing," Scott said. With a look of intense concentration on his face, he quietly counted out four beats to himself and started a simple four-four rhythm on the snare and high hats.
Or tried to. When Rogue and Scott had been playing 'Toxicity,' Rogue had been playing loudly enough to mask any sounds emanating from Scott's drums. And as it turned out, that was a good thing, because Scott was having trouble with keeping a steady 1-2-3-4 beat.
He couldn't.
He would speed up, and suddenly slow down or stop; then he'd speed up again. And all the while, he sat, smiling, and played away as if he was the best drummer on the face of the earth; which, of course, he wasn't. Not even close.
He finished up his little "drum solo" with what may or may not have been an intentional drumroll and a LOUD hit on the high hats. "So, what do you think? I've only been doing this for two years, but I think I'm getting pretty good," said Scott, obviously proud of himself.
"Uh, yeah. Right. Um, Rogue! How about-" Scott cut Bobby off mid-sentence.
"You don't like it," he stated flatly.
"No, no, I do, it's just that I, uh, I-" protested Bobby while trying to find a polite way to tell Scott he couldn't play his way out of a paper bag.
"Look, Iceman," Scott said quietly, getting pissed at Bobby's attitude, "if you don't like my playing, just say so! No one here will laugh at your lack of taste."
"No, look, it's just...." Bobby trailed off under Scott's glare, which even from behind the ruby-quartz glasses was strong enough to kill.
"He's raght, Scooter," Rogue said matter-of-factly. She was tried of all the crap and just wanted to either play or leave. "Ya suck."
Heads nodded timidly at Rogue's statement.
Scott stood up. "Fine. If that's what you think, I'm out of here." He stalked off, no doubt to find Jean so he could tell all, and have her comfort him by telling him that they were just jealous because he was the leader.
"Ya know," said Tabby in as thoughtful a voice as she was capable of, "somehow I think this band idea might not have been so good after all..."
A/N: This chapter contains Scott-bashing, so if you like him, you probably won't want to read it....
Scott, Rogue, and Bobby glared at Tabby and Jubilee.
"Who's brilliant idea was is to have Ray play bass when HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW??" stormed Bobby.
Jubes and Tabby pointed at each other, which only frustrated everyone else more.
"She said-"
"Jubes told me that-"
"Did not!"
"Liar!"
"Don't call me a liar, trailer trash!"
"Oooh, bring it on!"
"HEY!!!" Bobby yelled at them. The two girls were standing nose to nose, both angry about the comments the other had made. "Look, let's just forget it. Scott, wanna play something for us on those drums of yours?" asked Bobby, trying to get the girls to calm down.
"Ok. Here goes nothing," Scott said. With a look of intense concentration on his face, he quietly counted out four beats to himself and started a simple four-four rhythm on the snare and high hats.
Or tried to. When Rogue and Scott had been playing 'Toxicity,' Rogue had been playing loudly enough to mask any sounds emanating from Scott's drums. And as it turned out, that was a good thing, because Scott was having trouble with keeping a steady 1-2-3-4 beat.
He couldn't.
He would speed up, and suddenly slow down or stop; then he'd speed up again. And all the while, he sat, smiling, and played away as if he was the best drummer on the face of the earth; which, of course, he wasn't. Not even close.
He finished up his little "drum solo" with what may or may not have been an intentional drumroll and a LOUD hit on the high hats. "So, what do you think? I've only been doing this for two years, but I think I'm getting pretty good," said Scott, obviously proud of himself.
"Uh, yeah. Right. Um, Rogue! How about-" Scott cut Bobby off mid-sentence.
"You don't like it," he stated flatly.
"No, no, I do, it's just that I, uh, I-" protested Bobby while trying to find a polite way to tell Scott he couldn't play his way out of a paper bag.
"Look, Iceman," Scott said quietly, getting pissed at Bobby's attitude, "if you don't like my playing, just say so! No one here will laugh at your lack of taste."
"No, look, it's just...." Bobby trailed off under Scott's glare, which even from behind the ruby-quartz glasses was strong enough to kill.
"He's raght, Scooter," Rogue said matter-of-factly. She was tried of all the crap and just wanted to either play or leave. "Ya suck."
Heads nodded timidly at Rogue's statement.
Scott stood up. "Fine. If that's what you think, I'm out of here." He stalked off, no doubt to find Jean so he could tell all, and have her comfort him by telling him that they were just jealous because he was the leader.
"Ya know," said Tabby in as thoughtful a voice as she was capable of, "somehow I think this band idea might not have been so good after all..."