A Little Bit Chilly
One
I was hauling gear from the trailer to the band's tent, in the blazing heat and the smoldering sun.
I could practically feel my skin peeling off with the sun's rays. It was digging deep into my pores, burning straight to the bone. Needless to say, it was a hot afternoon.
It was one of the earlier Warped Tour dates. I was ecstatic to be on the tour, of course; but the work was tough. You were on your own, for the most part.
Jordan "Spanky" LeBray -- an amazing lead guitarist -- was trailing behind me, dragging two guitars along. He was never very good in the heat; his shirt was gone as soon as we were out of the van (We hadn't the money to upgrade to a bus at that point), his jeans were off and cut-offs were on, fuck shoes who needed 'em, and he had a towl hanging limply around his neck. He looked like death.
But he perservered.
I lifted the other two guitars upright and leaned them against the white table Ricky -- whom we believed to be a secret klepto and also our bassist -- had set up for us. He hadn't done a very good job.
"Good work," Spanky heaved, slapping his guitars onto the table beside me. He ran a hand through his short, reddish hair, and sighed. "I hate the heat, why did we do this?"
"It's fun," I answered quickly. "And we need money. I hope you don't forget we still need to pay off the time you hit a tree with the van?"
Spanky shook his head. "Not my fault, Justin was shoving his ass in my face--"
"--we also still need to cover studio bills, and gear bills, and...stuff. Lots of stuff we need to pay for," I took a deep breath; sweat dripped down my neck. "So we need money. Therefore," I placed my hand on Spanky's shoulder, "We need to tour as much as possible."
"I hate you," he growled, and pushed me away. He started towards the van.
"I hate myself, too," I whispered. I lifted my head towards the press building down the way, four figures disappearing inside, into the air conditioning. Into the ice box.
"I also hate you four," I added, before going back to join Spanky and Justin at the trailer.
I could practically feel my skin peeling off with the sun's rays. It was digging deep into my pores, burning straight to the bone. Needless to say, it was a hot afternoon.
It was one of the earlier Warped Tour dates. I was ecstatic to be on the tour, of course; but the work was tough. You were on your own, for the most part.
Jordan "Spanky" LeBray -- an amazing lead guitarist -- was trailing behind me, dragging two guitars along. He was never very good in the heat; his shirt was gone as soon as we were out of the van (We hadn't the money to upgrade to a bus at that point), his jeans were off and cut-offs were on, fuck shoes who needed 'em, and he had a towl hanging limply around his neck. He looked like death.
But he perservered.
I lifted the other two guitars upright and leaned them against the white table Ricky -- whom we believed to be a secret klepto and also our bassist -- had set up for us. He hadn't done a very good job.
"Good work," Spanky heaved, slapping his guitars onto the table beside me. He ran a hand through his short, reddish hair, and sighed. "I hate the heat, why did we do this?"
"It's fun," I answered quickly. "And we need money. I hope you don't forget we still need to pay off the time you hit a tree with the van?"
Spanky shook his head. "Not my fault, Justin was shoving his ass in my face--"
"--we also still need to cover studio bills, and gear bills, and...stuff. Lots of stuff we need to pay for," I took a deep breath; sweat dripped down my neck. "So we need money. Therefore," I placed my hand on Spanky's shoulder, "We need to tour as much as possible."
"I hate you," he growled, and pushed me away. He started towards the van.
"I hate myself, too," I whispered. I lifted my head towards the press building down the way, four figures disappearing inside, into the air conditioning. Into the ice box.
"I also hate you four," I added, before going back to join Spanky and Justin at the trailer.
@Camille
Well, I hope you enjoyed it too :o
1/27/14