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Ch. 2:
Rehearsal
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The sun shone down on the garden as the boys set up their gear. Vyvyan, Mike, and Neil tuned their instruments, while Rick just watched with eyebrows raised. His drums remained untouched.
"I can't help but think that there might be a better place to practice, Mike," Neil mused. "I mean, there's all kinds of stuff here that we don't want on our instruments. There's mud and fertilizer, and-"
"Oh, there you go again, Neil, always whining! A little mud never hurt anyone!" mocked Rick. He leaned back on his stool, and continued to watch the scene calmly. Vyvyan was hitting his guitar with a pitchfork Mike was standing with his bass casually, as always, and Neil was stroking his guitar and talking to it.
"It's alright, you'll do great. It'll be alright, Martha," he soothed.
"Martha? You've given your guitar a GIRL'S name?" mocked Vyvyan. "That's the stuuupidist thing I've ever heard, Neil!"
"Shhh. Don't listen to him, Martha. He's just trying to bring us down."
"Now me, I've given mine a cool name!" Vyvyan went on.
"What, did you name it Mike?" asked the bass player.
Vyvyan looked at him, confused for a moment, before shaking his head in disgust. "No, Michael. Its name is Special Patrol Group!" He smiled, and hit his guitar again.
"Vyvyan," Rick interjected nastily, "Vyvyan, that's your hamster's name."
"Yah, I know! See, I figure if my hamster and my guitar have the same name, then I'll only have to remember one name for the both of them, you see!"
"But what if you, like, get confused which is which, Vyv? Like, you say 'Rick, could you hand me SPG,' but Rick won't know which one you mean, you know?" To clarify, Neil waved his hands, trying to indicate a confusing situation.
"Well, even if he asked me to fetch him a tangerine, I wouldn't get it for him, so it doesn't matter which one he's talking about, really," guffawed Rick. He smoothly tried to twirl one of his drum sticks, but ended up dropping in the muck.
"Haha, prick," laughed Vyvyan. "You're almost as hopeless as Neil!"
"He's right, Rick," Mike agreed.
"Oh, really, guys, am I even more hopeless than Rick?" the hippie moaned.
"Um... yah," Vyvyan decided.
"No, not really, Neil. But I hadn't said anything in a while," Mike chuckled, as he removed his sunglasses and winked. "If I don't say anything, some of the girls might be disappointed. Until I get them upstairs, that is."
"Um, Michael, what girls would these be? The girliest thing around here is Rick, and even he only owns one dress!" Vyvyan looked at Mike with a confused expression. Mike gave him a pitying look.
"Vyv, you're forgetting Neil's guitar."
"And the fact that, actually, Vyvyan, I own two dresses, thank you!" declared Rick acidly, before realizing what he'd said. "I mean, um, I, um..."
"Own two dresses, you fairy. Now can we please rehearse! I'm so bored, I think I might have to kill Rick to spark the smallest amount of interest in anything!" Vyvyan screamed at the other three. They looked at each other.
"Uh, yah, Vyv, alright. I guess, if you're all tuned and everything," Neil nodded sagely.
"What do you think I've been hitting it with this fork with? Haven't you ever heard of a bloody tuning fork, Neil?" But before the hippie could answer, he shoved the pitchfork within an inch of Neil's nose. "Well, it looks like this! Now can we get started before Rick starts talking again, please?"
"Alright, Vyvyan, keep your pants on. Teach me how," Mike said with a nod and a winning smile.
"Now, I've been thinking that we should start with 'Rick's an Ugly Bastard', you know, to get people moving. It's quite danceable, really. Goes like this," and Vyvyan began to sing.
RICK'S AN UGLY BASTARD HE RIGHT AND TRULY IS HE WEARS GIRLY DRESSES AND IS A POOF AND I WOULD LIKE TO SHOVE SOMETHING HOT AND METAL UP HIS BOTTOM.
Unfortunately, his singing was really more like screaming punctuated with short, badly fingered guitar chords.
"I bet you would like to stick something up my bottom, Vyvyan, but it's never going to happen," Rick said snidely. "And anyway, your song is filth. No one's going to dance to that. 'Cept maybe some of your stupid punk friends." He sniggered, satisfied with his little joke.
"Yes. Probably," agreed Vyvyan, not seeing what Rick found so funny. "And if you don't stop laughing... oh, what the hell, I'm getting tired of bloody warnings." He grabbed a garden gnome, and smashed Rick over the head with it. He fell in the mud.
"Oh, Vyv, you've broken Shirley!" exclaimed Neil mournfully.
"SHIRLEY?!? Do you give everything you own fucking girls' names?" Vyvyan yelped.
"No, Vyvyan. His friend's name is Neil, you see, that's a boy's name," Mike pointed out.
"No it isn't, judging by THIS Neil," giggled Rick from the ground.
"I think we've rehearsed enough, guys," Neil pleaded worriedly. "Let's stop before it gets any more violent!"
"It seems not violent enough, actually, but alright," Vyvyan agreed grudgingly. "As long as I get to set Rick's bedroom on fire when we get inside."
"Oh, right, like, shouldn't we do something with Rick?" asked Neil agitatedly.
"I'm alright, Neil. I really am. In fact," Rick said with a laugh as he jumped up, "I was never really hurt at all, really! It was a joke! And you all fell for it!"
"Ha. Ha," Mike laughed dryly. "Let's take this inside, boys."
Neil lovingly put Martha into her case, murmuring all the while.
"Neil, would you please shut up? You're making me disgustingly and violently ill!" Vyvyan yelled as he shouldered his Fender and clumped inside, closely followed by Mike, who still had his bass around his neck. Little did they know what awaited them at their gig, less than 24 hours away...
The sun shone down on the garden as the boys set up their gear. Vyvyan, Mike, and Neil tuned their instruments, while Rick just watched with eyebrows raised. His drums remained untouched.
"I can't help but think that there might be a better place to practice, Mike," Neil mused. "I mean, there's all kinds of stuff here that we don't want on our instruments. There's mud and fertilizer, and-"
"Oh, there you go again, Neil, always whining! A little mud never hurt anyone!" mocked Rick. He leaned back on his stool, and continued to watch the scene calmly. Vyvyan was hitting his guitar with a pitchfork Mike was standing with his bass casually, as always, and Neil was stroking his guitar and talking to it.
"It's alright, you'll do great. It'll be alright, Martha," he soothed.
"Martha? You've given your guitar a GIRL'S name?" mocked Vyvyan. "That's the stuuupidist thing I've ever heard, Neil!"
"Shhh. Don't listen to him, Martha. He's just trying to bring us down."
"Now me, I've given mine a cool name!" Vyvyan went on.
"What, did you name it Mike?" asked the bass player.
Vyvyan looked at him, confused for a moment, before shaking his head in disgust. "No, Michael. Its name is Special Patrol Group!" He smiled, and hit his guitar again.
"Vyvyan," Rick interjected nastily, "Vyvyan, that's your hamster's name."
"Yah, I know! See, I figure if my hamster and my guitar have the same name, then I'll only have to remember one name for the both of them, you see!"
"But what if you, like, get confused which is which, Vyv? Like, you say 'Rick, could you hand me SPG,' but Rick won't know which one you mean, you know?" To clarify, Neil waved his hands, trying to indicate a confusing situation.
"Well, even if he asked me to fetch him a tangerine, I wouldn't get it for him, so it doesn't matter which one he's talking about, really," guffawed Rick. He smoothly tried to twirl one of his drum sticks, but ended up dropping in the muck.
"Haha, prick," laughed Vyvyan. "You're almost as hopeless as Neil!"
"He's right, Rick," Mike agreed.
"Oh, really, guys, am I even more hopeless than Rick?" the hippie moaned.
"Um... yah," Vyvyan decided.
"No, not really, Neil. But I hadn't said anything in a while," Mike chuckled, as he removed his sunglasses and winked. "If I don't say anything, some of the girls might be disappointed. Until I get them upstairs, that is."
"Um, Michael, what girls would these be? The girliest thing around here is Rick, and even he only owns one dress!" Vyvyan looked at Mike with a confused expression. Mike gave him a pitying look.
"Vyv, you're forgetting Neil's guitar."
"And the fact that, actually, Vyvyan, I own two dresses, thank you!" declared Rick acidly, before realizing what he'd said. "I mean, um, I, um..."
"Own two dresses, you fairy. Now can we please rehearse! I'm so bored, I think I might have to kill Rick to spark the smallest amount of interest in anything!" Vyvyan screamed at the other three. They looked at each other.
"Uh, yah, Vyv, alright. I guess, if you're all tuned and everything," Neil nodded sagely.
"What do you think I've been hitting it with this fork with? Haven't you ever heard of a bloody tuning fork, Neil?" But before the hippie could answer, he shoved the pitchfork within an inch of Neil's nose. "Well, it looks like this! Now can we get started before Rick starts talking again, please?"
"Alright, Vyvyan, keep your pants on. Teach me how," Mike said with a nod and a winning smile.
"Now, I've been thinking that we should start with 'Rick's an Ugly Bastard', you know, to get people moving. It's quite danceable, really. Goes like this," and Vyvyan began to sing.
RICK'S AN UGLY BASTARD HE RIGHT AND TRULY IS HE WEARS GIRLY DRESSES AND IS A POOF AND I WOULD LIKE TO SHOVE SOMETHING HOT AND METAL UP HIS BOTTOM.
Unfortunately, his singing was really more like screaming punctuated with short, badly fingered guitar chords.
"I bet you would like to stick something up my bottom, Vyvyan, but it's never going to happen," Rick said snidely. "And anyway, your song is filth. No one's going to dance to that. 'Cept maybe some of your stupid punk friends." He sniggered, satisfied with his little joke.
"Yes. Probably," agreed Vyvyan, not seeing what Rick found so funny. "And if you don't stop laughing... oh, what the hell, I'm getting tired of bloody warnings." He grabbed a garden gnome, and smashed Rick over the head with it. He fell in the mud.
"Oh, Vyv, you've broken Shirley!" exclaimed Neil mournfully.
"SHIRLEY?!? Do you give everything you own fucking girls' names?" Vyvyan yelped.
"No, Vyvyan. His friend's name is Neil, you see, that's a boy's name," Mike pointed out.
"No it isn't, judging by THIS Neil," giggled Rick from the ground.
"I think we've rehearsed enough, guys," Neil pleaded worriedly. "Let's stop before it gets any more violent!"
"It seems not violent enough, actually, but alright," Vyvyan agreed grudgingly. "As long as I get to set Rick's bedroom on fire when we get inside."
"Oh, right, like, shouldn't we do something with Rick?" asked Neil agitatedly.
"I'm alright, Neil. I really am. In fact," Rick said with a laugh as he jumped up, "I was never really hurt at all, really! It was a joke! And you all fell for it!"
"Ha. Ha," Mike laughed dryly. "Let's take this inside, boys."
Neil lovingly put Martha into her case, murmuring all the while.
"Neil, would you please shut up? You're making me disgustingly and violently ill!" Vyvyan yelled as he shouldered his Fender and clumped inside, closely followed by Mike, who still had his bass around his neck. Little did they know what awaited them at their gig, less than 24 hours away...