Down With Love

“So, you’re looking good, Jimmy,” Anna told me with a smile that looked far too sincere to be real. We were in the bus now, and all I’d been able to answer anyone with was a grunt since Anna appeared. Once again, I used this as my sole reply. “You all right?” she continued.

“It’s just that Shads forgot to tell people you were coming until a couple days ago,” Val cut in, noticing the sour, choking expression on my face. “The Rev’s just pissed cause he has to give up his bunk.”

“Oh, you do?” There she went again with the far-too-‘genuine’ look. “I don’t mind, I can sleep on the couch if you want…” I shook my head, drawn aback by this. There had to be something she was after.

“No, I’m fine. And nobody else can anyway cause they’re all sharing a bunk with someone and the couch only fits one.” I left the line ‘I’m the only one who’s sleeping alone on this tour’ unsaid.

“That’s fine,” She said. “I’m shorter, I’ll take the bunk.”

I still didn’t trust her. “The couch is long enough.” I said coldly. My tone and the action of reaching to pick up a beer from the table sliced through the tension between us. From that moment on, Anna immediately returned my coldness. Without a word, she hoisted her suitcase onto her designated bunk, picked up her Warped “STAFF CLEARANCE” tag from the table where Matt had left it for her, and exited the bus.

“You didn’t have to be a cunt,” Val told me angrily the second the doors closed behind Anna.

I was startled at Val’s accusation and at her strong use of language, and I ended up almost spitting out my mouthful of beer all over the bus. I kept it in, but some of it spewed out my nose. Let’s just say it was not a pretty sight. Val went pink and doubled over in hysterical laughter. Every time she stood up and tried to look me in the eye, she’d erupt in another fit of giggles. I was annoyed at first, and wiped the beer from my face angrily with my sleeve. But after three of her giggle-takes, I too was laughing. I had to admit, the image of me standing there scowling, beer and foam running from my nose and down my face must have been pretty damn funny. “D’you wanna go trash sets of whatever crappy myspace-made scene kids are on? I asked after nearly ten minutes, and the muscles in our stomachs and faces were sore. “There are so many of them this year, they’re the newest trend…”

“Trend, or plague?” Val asked rhetorically. We both knew the answer. Val had had a bad run-in with one of the clones from that crappy myspace chick band the day before, the Millionaires. The girl had ordered Val to go get her a drink, and it was only after Val refused several times that the Millionaires chick had said in surprise ‘oh, you’re not a roadie! You’re that Ay-Seven-Ex skank, right?’ It was going to take that chick a lot of makeup to hide her black eye. “Will you help me fuck up the Millionaires’ set?” Val asked. “A7X skank. Jesus Christ, what will those kids think up next?” I could see her joy at my beer-face quickly turning to rage.

“If they’re on,” I promised. “Let’s go find a program.” We wandered aimlessly throughout the Warped grounds for a while. I stopped and posed for a few photos with fans, and one or two even wanted a photo with Val. Oh, and some drunken asshole splashed beer at my face, shouting ‘AVENGED SEVENFOLD SUCK!’ I just grabbed the beer and smashed the bottle at his feet, and that was the end of that. Eventually, though, we found a flier on the ground. “The Millionaires are playing in forty-five minutes,” I said, after wiping a footprint-shaped mud spot from it. “Shall we have a beer and sandwich, check on the darling Anna, and then go trash their set?” I asked. Val smirked and nodded.

“Sounds like a plan, mister Tholomew Plague,” she laughed, and the two of us set off for the food tents. “Hey, Jimmy?” she asked me as we approached another region of warped that was thick with drunken fans.

“Yeah?” I turned to face her and realized she’d paused, so I too stopped walking. “What’s up, Val?”

“Can you make an effort, to try and be nice to her? I know how horrible she was to all of you, hell, she was just as bad, if not worse, to me and Michelle. But… can you try?” She was continuously biting her lip between practically every word she said, which anyone who knew her noticed as a sure sign that something was bothering her quite a bit.

“If she was ‘just as bad if not worse’ to you and Michelle, then why do you want me to be nice to her? Wouldn’t you want me to just help you fuck her up?” I didn’t understand girls sometimes, to be honest.

“For Matt,” She replied simply. “It’s really important to him that we get along with her, he was so upset when you and Zacky started talking shit the other day. And I mean, we have to spend three months with her whether we like it or not, why start drama from day one? It’s just going to hurt Matt more than it will her.” A drop of blood spilled from her lower lip and started to trickle down to her chin. I sighed, and dug deep in my pocket to pull out a napkin, but all I could find was some Avenged Sevenfold wristband that a fan had thrown onstage a few days earlier, and that I had pocketed after the set, intending to throw it out at some point. I handed the piece of cloth to Val, who smiled gratefully and proceeded to use it to wipe her face.

“I’ll try.” I muttered, and started walking again.

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Half an hour later, we were leaning against the back wall of one of the smaller Warped Tour stages, waiting for the Millionaire chicks to go on and pretend to play music. We’d skipped the merch booth- I didn’t want to accidentally let out some insult at Anna- Val was right, she wasn’t worth it.

The myspace girls came on about fifteen minutes late, their lead singer was limping and holding a pair of ridiculously high-heeled pair of hideous neon pink shoes. I chuckled, and Val rolled her eyes. “Which one’d you beat up?” I asked her from the side of my mouth, trying not to catch the ‘Millionaire’s’ attention- not yet, at least.

“That one,” Val subtly raised her index finger at a girl with a brightly coloured long shirt, denim booty shorts, and black hair. Well, one of them. “She managed to hide it though… doesn’t look any different than how she did before I punched her face in.”

“Makes you wonder how much of that crap they cake on their faces, eh?” I asked, ironically taking a moment to fix my own eyeliner. Val just nodded.

Val and I somehow managed to last through three of their songs before we just got way too sick of it. They kept singing something about alcohol, so we figured this was the perfect time. I grabbed two beer cans from my baggy pockets, and Val picked up the one she’d carried over, that was lying on the ground by her feet. “LET’S GET FUCKED UP!” the three girls shrieked for the hundredth time in what I’m sure was supposed to be a harmony, and we seized our chance. We lunged onto the stage, shaking our chosen weapons. As soon as we were within shooting range, we opened the cans, spraying the myspace girls with white beer foam. From the corner of my eye I saw Val run out of foam and just start pouring the beer over her target’s head, the girl who’d had the nerve to call her a skank. The one with the limp was screaming, running to get away the beer fountain spraying from the can in my hand. She slipped in a pool of alcohol and fell, which just made Val and me laugh even harder.

“We just gave them what they wanted!” I said into the mic, aimed at the horrified crowd. Well, horrified would be a lie. About one-third of the crowd was horrified. The remaining two thirds were obviously the friends who had been dragged there by the first third. Their expressions went from horror- while the girls were singing- to looks of pure glee. “DID THEY WANT ALCOHOL?!” I shouted, and held the mic out. The kids all screamed their approval, even most of the angry ones. “DID THEY WANT TO GET FUCKED UP?!” I noticed the security guards watching me and not doing one damned thing, and I laughed. The crowd again screamed in agreement. “DID WE GIVE THEM THAT, SEATTLE, WASHINGTON?!” A roar broke out. The one with a limp had managed to pull herself up against one of the speakers, and hobbled over to me to try and reclaim her microphone. Being twice the girl’s height, I simply held the mic up above my head.

“DO SOMETHING!” She screamed at the security. Guards and crowd alike started absolutely howling with laughter.

“Oh, oh, not as big as Avenged Sevenfold, are we?” I played with words a bit. She turned fuchsia in anger, and tried jumping up to get the mic using only her good leg. Eventually, the security guard tapped me on the foot, and I bent down. “Yeah?” I asked him.

“I think they’ve had enough,” he said, motioning to the two others, who were sitting at the edge crying. The spiteful injured one grabbed the mic from my hand.

“HAH! I GOT IT NOW!” she shouted, but nobody really cared at this point.

I started to walk off the stage, but paused. I leaned down so my face was at her mic. “You’re gonna want ice for your foot and your ass.” I said. “Also, I don’t think calling my best friend’s fiancée a skank because she won’t get you a drink is a good idea. Just saying.” Back straight, I turned and walked off the stage, loud cheers from the entire crowd as a whole echoing behind me.