Rebel Yell

I woke up groggily once again and a pain shattering headache hit my forehead like a bomb had just exploded.

I looked to the side of me, my eyes learning to how, once again move around without hazing over and there laid, peacefully next to me, was my beautiful boyfriend. I pushed a couple of short strands of his hair along his ear and smiled as I watched him stir once again. I could hear the peaceful snores from below me where Debbie had to result in bunking with Tre.

It was literally like a bomb had exploaded on Debbie’s bunk and had forced the entire bunk to crash land onto Adeline and Mike’s peaceful little love corner. My mouth had shot open at the extent of damage but due to the alcohol (or the concusion?) still present in my system, all I could do was laugh at the situation as Adeline and Mike looked towards where they could have been crushed.

Tre had apparently, in all his genuine glory of being the rebel of the rebels, decided to test the spring ability of the mattress for Debbie. He claimed it was in order to check that she was having a comfortable night sleep but the four other presences on the bus all instantly thought of another motive...a Tre Cool motive.

We had decided not to tell the bus driver due to the majority rule that we wanted to arrive safe in Montana and not be some abandoned dead bodies somewhere in a wasteland. However everyone knew whose jurisdiction it fell under to tell the rotten grump that we had damaged his bed.

I felt sorry for our bus driver, he wasn’t the type of bus driver that screamed ‘lets sing hail to the bus driver’ or even ‘he’ll have a laugh with us if we set his shirt on fire’ but more of a isolated dependant man, struggling to drive the damn bus. Billie had told me not to feel sorry for the old fool, even though he was terribly home sick away from his wife because just likes Billie’s ‘job’, it was an ‘occupational hazard’.

Billie again stirred in his sleep as I curled myself up beside him, flinging his hand over my waist in the hope that he would make this damn headache go away. All I could be thankful of was that there was no roaring engine from the racket of a bus we were travelling on, in fact there was no sound of moving this chunk of metal, at all. Had we gotten here so quick? I lifted my head of off Billie’s chest to see if I could see any daylight and gladly, I could see the flicker of the orange sun, rising through the slit of the curtain. My nerves rested a little at that sudden fear of being stranded in the middle of nowhere and calmly rested my head back down into the comfy area of his chest.

“Marci....Marci” Somebody prodded my back and I rolled my eyes hoping that
whoever it was, that they’d fuck off any minute now but they didn’t. “Mar-ci” they had prolonged my name now, in their whispered urgency. Somebody had better have died, I screamed in my head and turned slowly around to see Bradley staring at me concerned.

“What?” I croaked quietly, pulling Billie’s hand away from me and swinging my legs over the bunk.

“We need to speak to you outside” he thumbed behind him and I tried to see who “we” were. I yawned a little before pulling tiredly at my eyes to see if I could wake up any quicker or reduce the headache that stung even more painfully. He watched me down as I carefully threw on some random shoes and grabbed an old tour coat from the bunk unimpressed by this rude awakening.

The sun outside was even more vicious to my headache and I shielded its glares with my hand, “nice hair” Bradley eyed it up and I stuck my tongue out at him, I was not in the mood to play games.

“So what is it?” I squinted my eyes to three of the other roadies as they stood, with a cup of hot coffee in their hand looking puzzled.

“well it’s your bus driver” Bradley spoke again more quietly, “he’s had enough and has quit the tour” Bradley had begun to back away, to where the rest of the roadies stood, unsure of what to say. It took me a moment to register what had gone on, maybe out of pure tiredness or for the fact that I just really didn’t want to hear it.

“He can’t have, he has to give me a written resignation and a two weeks’ notice” I demanded, in the hope that if this was really true and the driver had gone, then they would bring him back quickly.

“He’s given a resignation letter and he told me to tell you too “sod your-“ Bradley was cut off by another roadie, who shook her head in order for him to shut up. I banged my head against my hand as a scruffy wrote letter was handed to me:

Dear Ms Madison,

This is my letter of my resignation as I have had enough of this tour and of other several factors that I have come across. Firstly I have never met a group of people so, boisterous and childish about most things that should be looked at in an adult manner. For example, the flinging of food around the bus is just outrageous, people should know better.

Secondly, I have had enough of the tedious nights and long days that, I have no longer found unique or interesting but instead quite dull. Also you may need to understand that I don’t have any obligation to give you a two weeks’ notice, as I don’t give a crap about your tour. I have gotten you too Montana, where I will be staying with a group of friends for a while and this is where I leave you...
Your sincerely,

Steve Harris

Steve Harris...isn’t that the guy from Iron Maiden? Was my first thought but quickly replaced by my conundrum of the day. I needed a new bus driver...by tonight.