DISCLAIMER:I DO NOT OWN THE MOVIE SING, I ONLY OWN THE OCs.
CHAPTER ONE
At first look, Will Dampbell seemed like a normal 20 years-old echidna.
Seeing him taking a stroll on the street of Riverdale and you might not single him out as significant at all, but a closer look reveal a different story.
He's the son of Richard Dampbell, lead guitarist of the famous rock band, Quills And Spine, and owner of the great Dampbell Theater. He was considered multiple times as one of, if not the greatest guitarist alive. It was only natural that Will, his only son, would follow his father's footstep.
He was trained with an acoustic Gilman at the age of six. On his 9ths birthday, Will, who was a huge fanboy of metals and rock, was given a black painted Gibson SG, to his delight. He formed his own rock band, Sons of Stone, with fellow animals when he was only 15 and had won numerous awards on the Show Of Chords, The Vocals and Metalfest. He even have his own Youtube channel, where he upload guitar tutorials and covers. His songs are usually in the top 10 most listened on Spotify and basically are as happy as he can be.
Yet despite all the fames, Will lives a simple life. He never wear any fancy clothes or drive any luxurious car. Every time he was seen outside, he wears a black Met4Life shirt, with a simple black jean. He rides his bike to get around and lives in a small house near the countryside.
It was because all of this that no one seemed to take notice of him when he go outside. After all, most people expect the famous son of Richard Dampbell to storm the street in a black Lambo, wear a shiny leather jacket and flanked by a dozen bodyguards and God know what else.
Not a normal teenager who works part time as a cashier in the local Woolworth as a second job and rides in his bike to get the groceries.
Anyway, it was a cool evening in the town of Riverdale, an echidna was riding down the street of in his bike, the soft rustling noise of leaves in the night wind was the only sound he heard. After parking his bike, he trudged up the path that lead to the front door of his house.
Will just had a long day. Due to recent floods in the neighboring towns, animals had been flocking to Woolworth to provision themselves with foods and waters and supplies. He and his co-worker had been working their asses out in order to keep up with the constant lines of yelling and shoving animals.
His manager was especially fond of him. He usually compliments Will on his fast moving hands and seemingly infinite stamina to keep up with the rate of trades. The job pays him well enough he was quite happy to work there. Three hundreds dollars every week is a pleasant bonus to the income from his songs anyway.
Not that Will like working his ass out for seven hours with shoving and screaming animals trying to pay for their groceries.
Now he turned the key in his lock and fell gratefully into his couch. His muscles ached and his calves were on fire. He groaned, stretched, then grabbed the remote and turned on his favorite AC/DC song playlist.
On Messenger, his band's bassist, Alice, sent a message.
"Bob said his throat still itches and can't get back to work yet"
"Tell him i'll just use Jason"
Bob the wombat was the vocalist of his band, Jason was his replacement.
Will finished typing the message and sent it, he checked his other messages . One of them was sent by his neighbour.
"Lizzie and her boyfriend gonna be away for a couple of days, can you take care of his dog, Lollies?"
"I'm quite free for the next few day so, yes, I guess"
He continued surfing his phone while the solo of T.N.T echoed in the living room. He checked the messages sent by his boss. Chatted to his bandmates, then went on his laptop.
He was currently working in a new song, titled Can't get out of my mind. He hummed the lyric quietly to himself, took out his black Gibson, and strummed the first verse experimentally.
Stuck inside the troubled mind
Yet I do not want to let it out
Like an itch that grows and grows
Although I know there's no need to pout
Oh baby
Can't let it out
Stuck inside my head
Help me, baby...baby?
Angrily, Will slammed his fist down at the table when he played a bad note. He realised that the final words sound bad with the A minor chord. He changed the notes on his songwriting program, thought about rewriting it, then shrugged.
"I can always do it tomorrow", he said to himself.
He trudged to the couch and laid down, listening to the energetic choruses of the AC/DC songs, then fell asleep without realising.
The next morning, Will had toasts and jams for breakfast. It was Sunday and after having an excellent cup of dark coffee, he was about to go to his friend's place when something caught his eyes.
Sticking out of his green painted mailbox was a white envelope.
Curious, he took the letter, went inside and look at the sender's name. He half expected it to be from another producer that wants his permission to use his song. As he read the sender's name, however, it wasn't it.
Buster Moon, Owner of the New Moon Theatre, 551 Echo Drive, Calatonia. To Mr. William Dampbell, 3/7 Kangaroo Ave, Riverdale 3568. Australia.
Calatonia?
"Interesting", he muttered to himself.