Stories In Scars
It Has To Be A Full Moon...
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you sitting here? Is this your case?” the one with the hat asks.
“Yeah, but it’s fine. There’s room for all three of us,” I tell him.
The boy with the hat speaks again, “You were amazing.”
“Yes, amazing. Oh, I’m Spencer,” his friend says.
“And I’m Ryan,” says the boy in the hat.
“And I’m Grey.”
“We know,” they say in unison.
We start talking, but the people on stage think it’s pretty rude. After about a half hour of dirty looks, we decide to go back to Ryan’s place for coffee. Good coffee. Starbuck’s coffee. Not some shitty Common Grounds coffee.
By this time, I found out that I was the same age as Ryan, 20. Spencer, at 19, was a year younger. They were both in Panic! At The Disco, an alternative band that I was quite fond of. Okay, I admit it, I own every record. Did I tell them that? Hell no! They knew that I was an aspiring musician, looking for the right band.
When we get to Ryan’s house, Ryan goes to put on a pot of coffee. Spencer and I start talking, just like before.
“So... Are you new in town?” he asks.
I tell him, “Yeah, I am. I just moved into a condo two weeks ago. Common Grounds is right by my house, and I saw they had open-mic night, so I thought I’d give it a chance.”
“Ryan and I try to go every week or so. You know, to check out some of the local artists. So... You’re looking for the right band?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say like a broken record, “I’ve been moving around the country for three years trying to find them. I’m looking for people that I can stand to be around for more than twenty minutes at a time, know how to play their instrument, have decent personal hygiene, and are male.”
“Huh?”
“Um, yeah. I don’t get along with girls. Well, most girls. They’re so damn catty. Say, a guy gets mad at you. Most of the time he’ll A. tell you flat out, or B. ignore you. If a girl gets mad at you, she’ll smile to your face and say, ‘Why would I be mad at you? We’re best friends forever!’, and then say, ‘God, what a fucking whore. I swore I saw her making out with your boyfriend at the club the other night,’ the moment you turn your back,” I say to Spencer.
“I got the coffee!”
“Yeah, but it’s fine. There’s room for all three of us,” I tell him.
The boy with the hat speaks again, “You were amazing.”
“Yes, amazing. Oh, I’m Spencer,” his friend says.
“And I’m Ryan,” says the boy in the hat.
“And I’m Grey.”
“We know,” they say in unison.
We start talking, but the people on stage think it’s pretty rude. After about a half hour of dirty looks, we decide to go back to Ryan’s place for coffee. Good coffee. Starbuck’s coffee. Not some shitty Common Grounds coffee.
By this time, I found out that I was the same age as Ryan, 20. Spencer, at 19, was a year younger. They were both in Panic! At The Disco, an alternative band that I was quite fond of. Okay, I admit it, I own every record. Did I tell them that? Hell no! They knew that I was an aspiring musician, looking for the right band.
When we get to Ryan’s house, Ryan goes to put on a pot of coffee. Spencer and I start talking, just like before.
“So... Are you new in town?” he asks.
I tell him, “Yeah, I am. I just moved into a condo two weeks ago. Common Grounds is right by my house, and I saw they had open-mic night, so I thought I’d give it a chance.”
“Ryan and I try to go every week or so. You know, to check out some of the local artists. So... You’re looking for the right band?”
“Yeah, I am,” I say like a broken record, “I’ve been moving around the country for three years trying to find them. I’m looking for people that I can stand to be around for more than twenty minutes at a time, know how to play their instrument, have decent personal hygiene, and are male.”
“Huh?”
“Um, yeah. I don’t get along with girls. Well, most girls. They’re so damn catty. Say, a guy gets mad at you. Most of the time he’ll A. tell you flat out, or B. ignore you. If a girl gets mad at you, she’ll smile to your face and say, ‘Why would I be mad at you? We’re best friends forever!’, and then say, ‘God, what a fucking whore. I swore I saw her making out with your boyfriend at the club the other night,’ the moment you turn your back,” I say to Spencer.
“I got the coffee!”