Alvin Seville, a name that rang out amongst the crowd for years, until now. It was 20 years ago when Alvin first stepped on stage and sang with his two brothers by his side. Now Dave is dead and Alvin's career is too. He looked into the glass bottle of cheap wine he was clutching and took another swig. His eyes were puffy and he was woozy from the alcohol. He was a mess. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Theodore's number,

"Theodore," He slurred into the phone

"Alvin?" He answered, "What's up? You alright?"

"Theodore I…"

Alvin hated asking his brothers for money, both of them knowing full well that he would spend it on narcotics. He always told them he was in debt or would use it for food. They never believed him.

"I need some money.."

Theodore sighed,

"Alvin you gotta stop getting into trouble…How much do you need?"

"I only need $50, please Theodore I'll pay you back. I swear to god I will."

Alvin heard the beep of Theodore hanging up on him, he was so sick of Alvin's antics. Alvin cursed under his breath and quickly stepped out the door and into his Honda Civic. The car was cool from the early morning breeze and the window was frosted. Alvin sighed and got out of the car and poured water onto the windscreen to wash off the ice.

He began to drive a few minutes later and headed to the liquor store. The road was quiet, few cars passed by, shocked to see who was behind the wheel.

When he stepped out of the car the flashes of cameras and clicks of the paparazzi overcame Alvin. He opened the door to the liquor store, and shut the noise behind him. He headed straight to the vodka and bought three bottles of smirnoff blue, tonight would be mesmerizing. When Alvin brought the bottles to the cash register to pay, the cashier's jaw practically dropped on the floor.

"Alvin Seville? Oh my god, m-my daughter is a huge fan."

"Yeah well? Me too. I'm a huge fan of something, you know what that is?"

The cashier raised his eyebrows and shook his head,

"Alcohol, I love alcohol, now let me pay and get the fuck out of here so I can drown my sorrows."

The cashier went wide eyed, and nodded,

"S-Sure thing."

Alvin took the bottles and left. He could barely walk straight, he wobbled and nearly fell over. The paparazzi were eating this up, what article would come out next? "Alvin the asshole" "Alvin the alcoholic"? He was so sick of being in the spotlight he wished they would just leave him alone.

He got into his car and unscrewed the cap on the smirnoff and took a swig. Time to drive home, he thought to himself. He was secretly hoping that he would crash the car and die, that was the one thing the paparazzi couldn't figure out just by the photos they had taken of him. He turned on the radio and he was shocked to hear what was playing.

"And now, Alvin and the Chipmunks, Christmas Don't be Late. This is Popped Radio."

Their song starts to play and draws a tear into Alvin's eye. He didn't want to be reminded of all the pain and sorrow. All of the memories came flooding back to him, Dave in that hospital bed, the heart monitor growing slower by every second that passed. And finally, Dave flatlined, he was dead. Dave was diagnosed with cancer when the chipmunks were in the middle of their tour. Dave had smoked cigarettes all of his life, and eventually it caught up to him. He was diagnosed with emphysema and then stage 4 lung cancer. It was too late to save him, all they could do was make him comfortable when he died.

Alvin began to sing along,

"Want a plane that loops the loop, I still want a hula hoop. We can hardly stand the wait, Please Christmas, don't be late"

Alvin sang through the tears which stung his cheeks as he took another swig of the vodka.

He began to drive onto the Brooklyn Bridge.

Beeeeeeeep! A truck honked their horn at Alvin. It happened too fast. Alvin swerved and drove off the side and into the water down below. Everything was black. Everything was still. Alvin was at peace. For now.