Categories > Celebrities > The Used > Why Don't You Just Drop Dead, McCracken?

Chapter 3

by cretingirl 1 review

In which bouncers are almost bounced, bottles thrown, and bad jokes are told.

Category: The Used - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor,Romance - Published: 2008-04-24 - Updated: 2009-12-14 - 1146 words - Complete

After a couple more high speed turns and narrow escapes worthy of a Steven Siegel movie we finally arrived at the Jubilee Theater with no major loss of limb or life.

The Jubilee is a rather magnificent old building that, as its name vaguely suggests, was a very popular movie theater in the late 20s. Since then it has been bought and sold several times, enjoying brief stints as a record store, a Thai restaurant, and a movie theater that showed slightly more risqué films. It finally came into the possession of Shay Scranton, an old-school punk who boasts the privilege of having seen the Ramones at their first show in the early 1970s while he still claims to be in his thirties, making him about seven when he saw them. But I digress. Shay took down the tattered movie screen and removed the grungy seats that were older than he was, he put in a killer sound system and some fancy lights and voila he had an underground rock club that was said to rival even CBGBs. The Jubilee also happened to be one of the few places that booked CydeCwyped on a regular basis. This was partially due to the fact that once our meager group of fans was done with the place, their wasn’t much left. But the Jubilee was pretty resilient and the only damaged incurred so far was to the backstage area where the boys tended to get kinda rowdy.

Once we had unloaded the equipment and I had made sure that Billy was comfortably wrapped up in my hoodie, I headed off to find Shay. As I pushed my way to the back of the crowded room towards the sound booth I received several waves from faces that seemed slightly familiar and of course, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember their names, I waved back. When I finally reached the sound booth, I started to push the door open only to be roughly pulled back by my arm by a very tall, very bald security guard.

“Sorry, Short-stuff,” the guard rumbled as he tightened his grip on my arm and began to lead me away. “I can’t let fans go back to see Shay. Just take a seat and the concert will start in a minute.”

“I’m not a fan,” I protested giving the guard a hesitant punch in his bulky chest and flailing my legs like I was drowning. “I’m with one of the bands.”

“Sure, honey,” the guard said as I struggled to break free of his grip. “And I’m Alec Baldwin.”

“Well,” I said preparing to kick the guard in the shin. “I never pictured Alec Baldwin so bald and stupid in real life.”

“What’s going on here?” I heard a familiar voice say from behind the towering guard.

The security guard spun around quickly jerking me roughly with him to face none other than the green-haired wonder himself, Shay.

“Sorry, boss,” the guard said smugly as he tugged me over to Shay like a dog bringing a dead bird to its owner. “Just some groupie trying to get into the sound booth.”

Shay’s lips quirked as he took in the look of outrage that I’m sure crossed my face at being called a groupie.

“That, Bruno,” Shay said barely suppressing his laughter. “Is my protégé and the lead singer of the best band in New York City.”

The guard looked confused for a moment, I think because Shay used such a big word, before the horrible realization of what he had done finally began to sink in. “B-boss,” he stuttered as he quickly let go of my arm, which was bound to be sporting a bruise worthy of a prizefighter by morning. “I didn’t know. How could I know?”

“It’s okay, Bruno,” I said taking some pity on the man. “I mean I look like a groupie. It’s an easy mistake.”

Bruno looked from me to Shay as if he couldn’t figure out if I was joking with him or not.

Shay shook his head and sighed before giving Bruno a fatherly slap on the back and sending him back to play bouncer and not let any drunks or junkies in.

“Shay,” I said putting on a fake sounding Marilyn Monroe voice. “Take me right here, right now, Mr. President!”

“You, my dear,” Shay said laughing and putting an arm around me as we walked slowly towards the stage. “Are not a groupie. That is a groupie.”

I looked to were he was pointing only to see a blonde girl in an amazingly short skirt and ripped up ‘Cute as a Button’ t-shirt bouncing in place as she applied lipstick around her lips over and over.

“Ick,” I said aloud what I knew we were both thinking.

“My thoughts exactly,” he concurred. “But you’re here now and that’s the only thing that matters. The ‘Sweet Like Dirt’ guys are going to play first, then ‘Cute as a Button’, and then you guys. Be a doll and do me a favor. Go introduce the first band, they are all set but we were supposed to start awhile ago.”

I gave him a peck on the cheek and then pushed through the crowd at the front of the room before clambering up onto the stage.

“No corny jokes, Marla,” Shay shouted as he turned to head back towards the sound booth.

I gave the crowd a dazzling smile and grabbed the mike from its cradle.

“HEY ALL YOU HOES!!!” I screamed into the mike causing everyone to either jump or cheer. “My name is Marla, of CydeCwyped persuasion, and I’m am going to introduce the bands tonight because Shay is a lazy ass motherfucker, but first my corny joke.

“How many straightedge kids does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

“HOW MANY?!” the crowd shouted back at me.

“None,” I replied. “Straightedge kids don’t screw.”

There was a groan from some of the people in the crowd but mostly there was laughter.

“All right,” I said holding up my hands in defense. “I know it was bad. That’s the point. Its corny. Anyway, here is the first band ‘Sweet Like Dirt’ or as I like to call them the Hunter Brothers and some guy named Kevin!! Enjoy and I’ll see you bitches later.”

And with that I bounded off the stage giving the drummer of ‘Sweet Like Dirt’ a slap on the butt as I went.

“There you are,” Payton said hauling me rudely away from my adoring fans. “ We need to figure out which songs we are going to play tonight and the tribute song is your pick this time.”

I gave a shrug. “Anyone else in the mood for Michael Jackson?”
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