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

Chapter 4

by cretingirl 1 review

In which we get to see things from another person's point of view.

Category: The Used - Rating: R - Genres: Drama,Humor,Romance - Published: 2008-04-26 - Updated: 2009-12-14 - 1433 words

“Rise and shine, Berty-Buns,” Quinn said in a singsong voice as he casually flipped the light switch in our shared hotel suite, apparently not knowing or pretending not to know that he was frying my retinas.

“I hate you,” I said pulling a pillow over my head until my eyes could adjust.

“No, you don’t,” Quinn replied sounding entirely too sure of himself.

“Yes, I do,” I corrected as I blindly reached towards the bedside table for my cigarettes.

“They aren’t there,” Quinn said as I felt him plop on the bed near where I had been laying for about three straight days.

“Argh!” I groaned as I forced myself out of the bed and towards the shiny red embossed box that had somehow ended up on the floor across the room. I eyed Quinn suspiciously as he pulled on a maroon shirt and some shoes. “You did this, I know you did.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You put my cigarettes all the way over here so that I would have to get out of bed to get one. It’s genius,” I said as I placed a lighter to the tip of the last crumpled cigarette that I had dug out of the pack. “In a devious sort of way.”

“That’s me,” Quinn said as he began rifling through my clothes before pulling out a cleanish looking pair of shorts and a t-shirt and giving them an experimental sniff. “A regular Dr. Kevorkian.”

“Who?” I asked as I grabbed the clothes that Quinn had launched at my head.

“Don’t worry,” he said waving it off. “Get dressed.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“Oi, always with the questions,” Quinn said adopting a cheesy Yiddish accent. “We are going to a concert.”

“Do I have to go?” I asked in a whiny voice.

“Yes” he said simply. “If I have to go you have to go and even if I wasn’t going you would have to go because you have been nothing but a sulky little bitch for the last few months. Ever since David Bowie was run over and everything with Kate went down all you have done is sulk and drink and hide in the fucking dark. Now, under normal circumstances, I would have no problem with that, but you have to learn some moderation, Bert.”

“That’s all I want to do though,” I said as I reluctantly pulled the shirt over my head and stepped into the shorts.

“Too bad,” Quinn said shoving me towards the door, trying to coax my disheveled dreadlocks into some semblance of order. “Russ wants us to go with him to check out this band. Jeph and Dan said that if they have to go somewhere against their will then so do you.”

“We are so getting pizza after this,” I said sullenly as we approached the elevator where Jeph, Dan, and our manager, Russ, were already waiting for us.

“Fo’ Sho,” Jeph added just as the elevator signaled its arrival with a dainty ping.

We crowded into the elevator and patiently waited as it slowly descended the 37 floors to the lobby.

“At least try to show a little enthusiasm,” Quinn said as we exited the elevator a couple minutes later and crossed the lobby to clamber into one of the waiting taxis that always hovered around swanky hotels. “Russ, what did you say this band’s name was?”

“Um…CydeCwyped,” Russ said, hurriedly waving us into the taxi as he looked around nervously for the crazed group of marauding fans that he always thought was following us around before climbing into the front seat. “They sound a bit like you guys when you first started out only their Bert is a girl.”

“And how did you manage to get your greasy little hands on a demo?” Jeph said letting out a grunt as Quinn shifted his weight from where he was sitting on top of him.

“An old friend of mine, Shay Scranton, we went to school together, sent me a CD along with a list of the dates that they would be playing at his venue. They sounded pretty good so I figured we would check them out while we had some time before touring again. Plus, I knew that Quinn needed an excuse to get Bert out of bed.”

“That sounds pretty shifty to me,” Dan said in a way that made you realize that he was forming another conspiracy theory in his mind.

“Doesn’t matter what it sounds like,” Russ said reaching for his wallet, as the cab pulled up in front of a dilapidated old building that had about thirty people standing outside smoking. “We’re here. Okay, boys. You know the drill, keep your heads down and for the love of God, please, Bert, don’t draw any attention to yourself.”

“NO, attention, me never…” I mumbled hopping out of the cab and breathing in deeply. I had always loved the smell of a rock show. All cigarettes, and sweat, and chaos.

“Rob,” Quinn called after me trying to fend off a chubby girl who swore that he ‘looked just like that blonde guy from The Used’ . “Wait Up!”

I quickly paid to get in trying not to meet the eyes of anyone around me as I went. I walked along a dark hallway, listening as the sounds of music steadily grew louder until I suddenly found myself in an open area filled sweaty fans and the hazy smoke of cigarettes smoked indoors. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, where a mosh pit was already forming as the current band began another song. Did I happen to mention that I love mosh pits? Just the idea of beating up a complete strange in a socially acceptable way makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I threw myself full force into the pit as the band onstage played fast and loud.

Fifteen minutes later I was drenched with sweat and smiling as a tall guy with blue hair helped me to my feet from where I had fallen on the floor in the anarchy of the pit before he bounded over to the stage and vaulted himself onto it. A lanky guy with brown hair and glasses walked onto the stage and, spotting the blue haired guy, proceeded to carry out the pieces of a battered drum set. Once the band was completely set up the crowd began to murmur as another guy in a wife beater with a shaved head bellowed for some guy named Marly to get his ass on stage. A minute or two later a short Asian girl in a green shirt stumbled drunkenly onto the stage with a sheepish grin. She walked nonchalantly across the stage and picked up a white and purple guitar. She grasped the microphone and coyly looked out at the crowed as a slight smile quirked the corners of her mouth.

“Listen up bitches!!!” She screamed into the mike, causing half of the crowd (myself included) to jump in surprise. “I’ve noticed that this crowd has grown in the last two hours, so for those of you who weren’t here I’m gonna tell you what you missed. Number One: Shay is the suck…but for most of you that is common knowledge anyway. Number Two: If you are just tuning in you’ve missed hearing Sweet Like Dirt and Cute As A Button, and therefore you are a loser. Number Three: I am Marla, I was you MC but now I am a singer in the band CydeCwyped, you completely missed the transitional period. And lastly Number Four: This hideous bunch of trolls behind me is my backup singers…kidding. There is Waldo on the drums, Payton on the bass, and Adam on the keyboard. By the way ladies Adam and Payton are both single…so never mind. Now that you are all caught up, our first song of the night is ‘Pair of Lips.”

‘Oh Fuck,’ I thought to myself as the miniscule girl on the stage began to sing throatily into the mike. ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into now.’

The girl looked out at the crowd shyly from underneath her purple tinted side swept bands and the guitar wound down softly. “…No everyone know why your lips are my favorite flower.” she whispered.

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