The Black Dog Apparition
Chapter 4
Michael’s Point of View
I can’t believe we’re doing this. We’re finally going to be able to show the world our stuff, and rub it in their faces, too. Shut up, stop thinking, just fucking tune your guitar and play.
Jen’s boyfriend had set up in his large living room a camera he was going to record us on, and a microphone for Laura to use. Thank god his parents were gone to work. My b-string was being an ass, but it was brand new and supposed to be working. Christ, I hate new strings. I had purchased them just for this occasion.
The big plan was actually really simple. Record one of our most-practiced songs, and send it in for the Battle of the Bands on the Early Show. If we won, as we were already expecting, we would get recognition enough to earn a chance at a record label and from there it was all easy peasy.
The news was now my favorite TV show.
I was sitting on my amp, waiting for Bret and Laura to finish fiddling around with their surroundings, and I was also waiting on Jennifer to quit making out with Gabe to I could get a word in edge-wise to Gabe. Laura split them up for me.
“Are we gonna do this thing or what?”
Jen pulled away from eating Gabe’s face and blushed, running back to the drum set and Gabe stepped behind the camera.
“Are we all in the view?” I asked.
Gabe nodded.
“And is there film?” I continued.
Again, Gabe nodded.
“And-“
“Christ, Mikey! If you keep on worrying, you’ll get us all freaked out!” Bret snapped.
“Well someone has to worry because if someone doesn’t then the barn is gonna rot and Dad’s gonna get pissed the fuck off!” I shouted back erratically.
There was a silence.
I looked around, “What?”
They were all staring at me, eyebrows raised or about to crack under the pressure of roaring laughter. They all finally cracked. Bret fell backwards in his laughter, his bass along with him, while he quoted fragments of my sentence. Jen laid forward on her drum set and smacked the center drum and giggled and snorted. Laura was just cracking a smile, and Gabe was hiding his face behind the camera in a failing attempt to hide his amusement. I couldn’t help but give a dry chuckle that grew into an honest chortle.
Christ, we were so stressed out about this whole thing.
Bret’s Point of View
I climbed back up to my standing position after what seemed like thirty minutes of laughing and finally was able to calm myself down. The rest of the band and Gabe did the same.
Okay. Now it was time to get serious again. We had as many tries as we wanted, but each one had to be true and real and true again. We all knew what we would be playing; we were all getting focused in the silence that followed Jen’s last giggle-snort. We needed to win this competition. We all wanted this so bad.
Gabe gave us a countdown with his fingers.
Jen gave the beat with her sticks.
One…
Two…
One…
Two…
Three…
Go!
I gave a strong chord with my bass and could feel the amp behind me reverberate and shake my insides. Yes, the power of the bass instrument. That’s why I chose this baby as my own. Her power.
Michael joined in with the first solo he had ever learned and perfected. Jen was already giving a stead, soft beat.
Laura opened up her throat and sung with a voice completely separate from her speaking tone. It was like a magic that entranced me and made me adore her even more. I wanted to play well for her, for the band, but mostly for her. I had to prove I was good enough for her, good enough to be maybe something more than just a friend.
Drop of cyanide
Taste the suicide
We'll all burn in hell
Let’s just speed up the process
Pray the rosary everyday
Oh Jesus, oh Mary
Protect their minds in every way
They're so prone to stray
From a mother's heart I pray
Michael and I sung for the backing vocals. Neither of us were al good as Laura, but we were decent enough to sing background.
(Save your breath, woman)
We continued with the song, I playing my part, and Michael playing the rifts he so loved. It was a one-shot. There were no needs for do-overs.
It. Was. Perfect.
We had practiced the song so much, we only missed one or two notes, but even those were hardly noticeable. Laura’s voice never wavered and Jen was flawless.
hell yes.
We were so gonna fucking win.
I can’t believe we’re doing this. We’re finally going to be able to show the world our stuff, and rub it in their faces, too. Shut up, stop thinking, just fucking tune your guitar and play.
Jen’s boyfriend had set up in his large living room a camera he was going to record us on, and a microphone for Laura to use. Thank god his parents were gone to work. My b-string was being an ass, but it was brand new and supposed to be working. Christ, I hate new strings. I had purchased them just for this occasion.
The big plan was actually really simple. Record one of our most-practiced songs, and send it in for the Battle of the Bands on the Early Show. If we won, as we were already expecting, we would get recognition enough to earn a chance at a record label and from there it was all easy peasy.
The news was now my favorite TV show.
I was sitting on my amp, waiting for Bret and Laura to finish fiddling around with their surroundings, and I was also waiting on Jennifer to quit making out with Gabe to I could get a word in edge-wise to Gabe. Laura split them up for me.
“Are we gonna do this thing or what?”
Jen pulled away from eating Gabe’s face and blushed, running back to the drum set and Gabe stepped behind the camera.
“Are we all in the view?” I asked.
Gabe nodded.
“And is there film?” I continued.
Again, Gabe nodded.
“And-“
“Christ, Mikey! If you keep on worrying, you’ll get us all freaked out!” Bret snapped.
“Well someone has to worry because if someone doesn’t then the barn is gonna rot and Dad’s gonna get pissed the fuck off!” I shouted back erratically.
There was a silence.
I looked around, “What?”
They were all staring at me, eyebrows raised or about to crack under the pressure of roaring laughter. They all finally cracked. Bret fell backwards in his laughter, his bass along with him, while he quoted fragments of my sentence. Jen laid forward on her drum set and smacked the center drum and giggled and snorted. Laura was just cracking a smile, and Gabe was hiding his face behind the camera in a failing attempt to hide his amusement. I couldn’t help but give a dry chuckle that grew into an honest chortle.
Christ, we were so stressed out about this whole thing.
Bret’s Point of View
I climbed back up to my standing position after what seemed like thirty minutes of laughing and finally was able to calm myself down. The rest of the band and Gabe did the same.
Okay. Now it was time to get serious again. We had as many tries as we wanted, but each one had to be true and real and true again. We all knew what we would be playing; we were all getting focused in the silence that followed Jen’s last giggle-snort. We needed to win this competition. We all wanted this so bad.
Gabe gave us a countdown with his fingers.
Jen gave the beat with her sticks.
One…
Two…
One…
Two…
Three…
Go!
I gave a strong chord with my bass and could feel the amp behind me reverberate and shake my insides. Yes, the power of the bass instrument. That’s why I chose this baby as my own. Her power.
Michael joined in with the first solo he had ever learned and perfected. Jen was already giving a stead, soft beat.
Laura opened up her throat and sung with a voice completely separate from her speaking tone. It was like a magic that entranced me and made me adore her even more. I wanted to play well for her, for the band, but mostly for her. I had to prove I was good enough for her, good enough to be maybe something more than just a friend.
Drop of cyanide
Taste the suicide
We'll all burn in hell
Let’s just speed up the process
Pray the rosary everyday
Oh Jesus, oh Mary
Protect their minds in every way
They're so prone to stray
From a mother's heart I pray
Michael and I sung for the backing vocals. Neither of us were al good as Laura, but we were decent enough to sing background.
(Save your breath, woman)
We continued with the song, I playing my part, and Michael playing the rifts he so loved. It was a one-shot. There were no needs for do-overs.
It. Was. Perfect.
We had practiced the song so much, we only missed one or two notes, but even those were hardly noticeable. Laura’s voice never wavered and Jen was flawless.
hell yes.
We were so gonna fucking win.