MC Master
Member of the Band
Blaster grinned in pure happiness as he and Jazz showed their passes at the amphitheatre gates. "Dude, getting this gig sure is cool!" he said to the black helmed Mech.
Jazz had the same rust-eatin' grin on his face. "Ya man, I hear what you're sayin'!"
The two Autobots still couldn't quite believe that they'd been approached by Metallic Symphony's management about working the concert here in Vegas. For two musical enthusiasts like themselves, it truly was a dream gig!
"Hey, you must be, ah.." The man wearing a black shirt with the word 'crew chief' across the back, looked down at the tablet he was holding. "There it is! Blaster and Jazz – right?"
"Sure am man, so when're we gonna jam?" Jazz said with his normal light heartedness.
Looking up at the two, the crew chief motioned toward some crews that were setting up the frame work for the lights. "If Blaster would go help them with those lights, it'll get done faster. One of our booms broke down."
"Sure thing! 'Ol Blaster can do the heavy lifting!" the red Mech grinned as he trotted off.
The crew chief nodded at Jazz. "And you; just follow me."
Jazz shrugged, and followed him. Not having a clue as to what his job would be.
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Approaching one of the many identical tour buses, the crew chief rapped on the door.
"Yo, who's bugging us?" A voice asked as the door opened a slit.
"Just me. I've got your local ride with me."
Some muffled conversation was heard in the bus. "So what'd you get us this time, a moped?" another voice joked.
Obviously used to the joking, the crew chief laughed. "No, you'd guys just get drunk and wreck. So we got you something you can't wreck this time!"
He winked at Jazz, who was now beginning to get a clue as to what his job would be.
More snickering and conversation was heard from the bus's interior. "So what the hell'd you get us? Couple of ugly broads in a Yugo?" a third voice yelled.
"Nope, why don't you drunk asses come out and see your ride?" the crew chief yelled back.
"Shit! It's too damned early for that!" the first voice replied.
More snickering and joking; then the third voice said, "Fuck, I'll come out. If one of us doesn't, Joe's likely to give it to our openers."
Chris stumbled out of the bus, his curly hair obviously not brushed yet. Blinking in the bright light of the sun, the guitarist looked up at Jazz. His mouth fell open in shock and amazement! "Are you serious Joe?!"
"Yep."
Chris went back into the bus, more snickering and joking could be heard; along with several 'No fucking way!' comments. All four band members then stumbled out of the bus, staring up at Jazz in disbelief.
"This is Jazz. He's gonna be your ride today. Like I said, now you drunks can party as hard as you want to!" with a nod to Jazz, Joe the crew chief walked off.
Kneeling down, Jazz held out his hand and introduced himself. Very pleased that he would get to drive around one of the bands that he liked to jam to.
Jostling each other, the band members debated on who got to go somewhere first. Then they ran in the bus, to see which one could get his teeth and hair brushed, and dressed – first.
Soon, Chris and Mark were back on the pavement again.
"So what do you transform into?" Chris asked.
Jazz transformed to alt mode.
Mark whistled, impressed! "935 Porsche, sweet!"
Before the other two band members came out, the two crammed themselves into Jazz's front seats.
Setting his hands on the steering wheel, Mark hesitated. "So do I drive, or you?" he asked.
Jazz chuckled, "You drive when you're sober; I'll drive when you're drunk – cool deal?"
"Yep, cool deal!"
Flooring it, Mark spun them in a circle. Turning the steering wheel sharply, black smoke flowed behind them as he burnt rubber out of the parking lot.
Next Morning, at the Ark
"What the hell were you thinking?!" Ratchet grumbled, as he went to the storage room and fished around for a set of new tires.
Jazz just grinned as he sat on the table. "Hey, it was so cool to hang out with those guys. Man, I'm telling ya!"
The medic snorted in disgust. "Weren't YOU supposed to be the one driving?"
"Only when they got drunk."
"That explains why you smell like whiskey. So why do you also smell like pot?" Ratchet grumbled as he used an air wrench to loosen Jazz's lug nuts.
"Well, Joe didn't say anything about smoken'," Jazz shrugged.
The medic considered hitting him in the head to knock some sense into him, but he wasn't done fixing him yet.
"Hey, you know what the best thing about it was?"
Ratchet just shook his head.
Jazz grinned, "Man, those guys wrote a song on MY dashboard. Yep, MY dashboard!"
Ok, now the medic couldn't stop himself! He smacked the dumb-aft upside the head as hard as he could!
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Note: This one started as a story about Blaster, but got a mind of its own.. oops..
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