Blinded
Dramatic Effects
I get to go home the next day. They kept me in for observation – making sure I wouldn’t pass out and so on – and had a nurse constantly watch over me. She even had to help me to the bathroom a few times. But she did leave me to pee on my own. I sat down each time, because come on; men pee on the toilet seat even when we can see!
Mikey was the one to lead me from the car onto the bus. You might think I would have liked to go home, but I couldn’t let the fans down. After all, I still got my voice. I can still sing. Sure, I might not be much of a show to watch, but I’m sure Frank won’t mind taking the audience’s full attention.
“Okay, turn around,” Mikey guides. I very well know where I am, but I let him. I’ll correct him later. After all, it’s better to be safe than sorry.
The back of my legs bump against the mattress of the lounge-sofa. I sit.
“You want something to drink? Eat?” He sounds like I’m a guest. I can practically feel the nervous, worried expression on his face.
“Mikey.” I pause – mainly for the dramatic effect. God, I love dramatic effects. Maybe we should bring some blood back onto the stage.
“I know where the fridge is.” I expect him to react with annoyance, but instead I’m met with more worry.
“But you don’t know what you reach for. You can’t see it.”
“Mikey.” I stop him before he starts becoming all sentimental. He might start crying, for fucks sake! Come on! I’m not gonna stay blind! And even if that does happen, then it’s not like we’ll stop being a band! I could become the rock ‘n’ roll version of Stevie Wonder!
“Just sit down, bro’.” He doesn’t. I’m slightly aggravated.
“Sit!” I feel the couch give in on my right. Good boy.
“Frank,” I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he’s in front of me, “could you get me a water?”
“Sure,” he says, and he doesn’t seem to walk very far to get to the fridge. Maybe I was right.
“I could’ve gotten that,” Mikey whines. I smirk.
“Sure you could. But now Frank’s got that privilege.” I reach out my open hand, and the second after Frank places a bottle of water in my hand. I’m actually starting to freak myself out.
Mikey was the one to lead me from the car onto the bus. You might think I would have liked to go home, but I couldn’t let the fans down. After all, I still got my voice. I can still sing. Sure, I might not be much of a show to watch, but I’m sure Frank won’t mind taking the audience’s full attention.
“Okay, turn around,” Mikey guides. I very well know where I am, but I let him. I’ll correct him later. After all, it’s better to be safe than sorry.
The back of my legs bump against the mattress of the lounge-sofa. I sit.
“You want something to drink? Eat?” He sounds like I’m a guest. I can practically feel the nervous, worried expression on his face.
“Mikey.” I pause – mainly for the dramatic effect. God, I love dramatic effects. Maybe we should bring some blood back onto the stage.
“I know where the fridge is.” I expect him to react with annoyance, but instead I’m met with more worry.
“But you don’t know what you reach for. You can’t see it.”
“Mikey.” I stop him before he starts becoming all sentimental. He might start crying, for fucks sake! Come on! I’m not gonna stay blind! And even if that does happen, then it’s not like we’ll stop being a band! I could become the rock ‘n’ roll version of Stevie Wonder!
“Just sit down, bro’.” He doesn’t. I’m slightly aggravated.
“Sit!” I feel the couch give in on my right. Good boy.
“Frank,” I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he’s in front of me, “could you get me a water?”
“Sure,” he says, and he doesn’t seem to walk very far to get to the fridge. Maybe I was right.
“I could’ve gotten that,” Mikey whines. I smirk.
“Sure you could. But now Frank’s got that privilege.” I reach out my open hand, and the second after Frank places a bottle of water in my hand. I’m actually starting to freak myself out.
♠ ♠ ♠
Huh... Apparently the chapters of this story will be short, but frequent... Is that ok?