FicWad

We climbed through the air conditioning vents for what felt like hours that day, because as it turned out Pete really didn’t know where he was going. Eventually we fell out of another trap door into a room that seemed like heaven.

“Woah!” I gasp, “What is this, are we still in your house?”
“Yeah, this is where my Mom keeps the Christmas presents and stuff, looks like a toy store, huh?”
“So what did you wanna show me?” I ask him, amazed.
“This.” Pete said picking up a mahogany finished Fender bass guitar. “I’ve been in this band called Arma Angelus for awhile now and I smashed my last bass up at a gig when me and Joe got a bit carried away.”
“Joe the one that’s hot for your sister, and is always high?” I ask. Pete laughs.
“Yeah that’s the one.”
“Wow, apart from your apparent lyrical genius, I didn’t even know you were musical.”
“Not musical as such.” Pete says clearly uncomfortable at me thinking he was some kind of alternative Mozart. “We just jam a lot, and I scream. It’s hardcore, none of that sissy stuff.”
“No one would take you for a sissy Pete.” I told him. We looked at each other and cracked up laughing, that is, until we heard noise out side the door.
“Oh crap,” He whispered, “Quick, up the ladder.” Once we were safely back in the roof