I went about my day the next afternoon, hauling gear to and from the trailer, grabbing snacks, alternating between the van and the merch tent.

Spanky was on Toss Duty. Toss Duty was the best job in the world -- or so I thought, anyway. I enjoyed chucking merch at random people, screaming, "CHECK OUT MY BAND, BITCHES!" as loud as I could, and making it rain with wristbands.

Toss Duty wasn't as big as it used to be. At previous Warped tours, we'd be standing around the entrance chucking our bracelets and CDs at passersby. I'd use my screaming talent to yell at people that we were better than everybody and that they needed to listen to our shit, otherwise they smelled bad.

In other words, we were promoting ourselves violently. Which probably wasn't the best way to gain fans.

As I passed the merch tent, however, there was Spanky, lounging peacefully in the shade.

"Hey," I flicked his forehead. "What are you doing here?"

Spanky's right eye opened slowly.

"What?" he smiled. "Oh. Yeah. Toss Duty. I got bored."

"You're retarded," I scowled and shook my head. I turned and ran forward at some kid looking through our tanks, his sweaty hair pushed aside and his mouth agape as he ran his hands across the various articles of clothing.

"What's up, man?" I smiled. He looked over and nodded.

"Hey," he said. "I'm hot as hell, but enjoying everything I guess. You?"

A lot of times they didn't ask how I was back. He was polite, thoughtful. I could tell that much by looking at him.

"I'm great, thanks," I nodded. "Setting up for our show pretty soon."

"Oh yeah? I'm pumped for that," the kid smiled brightly. It was a good, genuine smile.

"Me too," I laughed. "So that definitely means I'll see you there?"

"Hell yeah!"

I smiled and lifted my arm. "Highfive for that, dude!"

He slapped my hand.

"Awesome," I looked back at Spanky, whose eyes were shut once again. He was drifting into a state of peace, of pure bless. Even with his heat-sensitive body, he was comfortable.

"Spanks!" I shouted. "Come on, you got shit to do!"

The kid laughed and removed his backpack from his shoulder, unzipped, and plucked out a wallet.

"I'm buying a tank. It's way too hot for a t-shirt."

"Amen!" I shouted.

He was right, though, about it being too hot for a tank top. He was in a Chelsea Grin tee, and had sweat through it, even though they'd only just begun letting in the people.

I handed him the tank he wanted. He gave me the money. A normal day for us.

~This is a re-written chapter. The others after will not be matching to this until I update them as well, thanks!~