Sequel: Earth to Me

Generation Why Bother

Name a Place, Name a Face

Johnny’s band had only made cameo appearances until the next issue, which opened with the band playing a rockin’ romp at the local bar. They were playing a cover of The Temptations’ “My Girl,” but with an edge that you could only see in the panels through the characters’ stances and facial expressions. It was pure eye candy, that scene. I always thought it was a way for the artist to stick it to the few haters of the comic, putting everything into it to make it known that Anchor was a kickass artist.

Anyways, there was Johnny Cool, and there were The Dudes. Now, The Dudes were an entity all on their own in terms of coolness – there was their drummer with an afro, Jamal, their old fart of a keyboardist, Jerome, and their long-haired mellow bassist, Chewy. Each of them had their own trials and tribulations that ended up tying together and giving them each unique backgrounds, and even though none of them had a direct connection to the Stars, they ended up becoming not only a music band to Johnny, but a band of true pals.

It sounds really bad and super corny when I try to explain it, I know. I swear, Anchor did it better through his art. Granted, up until that issue, readers hardly even knew who The Dudes were. It was just kind of a vague nod to Johnny’s band, and since he had a part of the band’s name all to himself, it seemed weird to mention them in much detail.

After the gig in that issue, though, we really got to see Johnny as a musician and as a frontman once and for all. When the applause died down and the band said goodnight, Johnny turned back to his bros and smiled at them so big, like he knew they kicked so much ass just then.

“That was awesome, you guys! Keep on kickin’ it, we’ll be even better tomorrow!” he gushed, putting his guitar away in his case.

The other members had a respect for Johnny, but they were all fighting their battles too – just not with intergalactic beings. He was the youngest of them all and had only found them when they were looking for a singer and a guitarist after both of theirs went AWOL, but he showed promise. They all used to have deep dreams of stardom that they’d given up on. Johnny showed them a way to keep it alive.

You could tell the artist was foreshadowing something having to do with the band just from the way they all lingered in the bar that night, putting their equipment away and shooting the breeze about nothing. It was so predictable, but it was still amazing. Even with every cliché, every trope, everything that had been done before, Johnny Cool and the Dudes managed to pull it off with pizzazz.

And yeah, I’m fanboying right now over it all. But I can’t help but fawn over something that has sparked so much inspiration for me and my best friend. Of everything random that has happened in my rather uneventful life, Johnny Cool and the Dudes has been a constant. I’m going back to being that lame kid sitting in a hospital bed after getting struck by lightning, drawing comparisons between his life and a comic book – because for my own personal reasons, it makes sense to me.

It’ll make more sense later on down the line, too. But I won’t go there right now.

That Thursday, the day after Put’emup, Put’emup’s first show since the strike, Tegan and I headed over to the flat one afternoon because they’d invited us over for dinner. (Their idea of dinner was endless boxes of pizza and breadsticks ordered from our local Pizza Plethora, scattered throughout the day to keep us full.)

They weren’t doing much of anything when we stopped by, at least until Mick threw a pack of cards down on the coffee table in the middle of the couch circle and declared, “Alright, I vote we play Bullshit.”

As if he knew what was coming, Chance groaned and buried his face in his hands, laughing. He was sitting across from Tegan and I, and he didn’t talk much, but he always tried to initiate the conversation if the timing was right.

“Bullshit? Did someone say Bullshit? I’m all over that!” Andy called out from one of the rooms connected to the hallway. Though his voice sounded distant at first, he came galloping out of the hallway while pulling on a pair of baggy jeans (I’m not sure why he was pantsless in the first place).

Anthony, who was staring out the apartment’s window, turned around when Mick suggested the game, and with a sly smirk, said, “That’s a good idea, actually.”

Just one thing, though.

“Uh…what’s Bullcrap?” I spoke hesitantly. (Swearing in front of adults was just always weird to me; it was instinct.)

Mick answered my question promptly. “Aw, you never played Bullshit? Well, for starters, the name is Bullshit. Not Bullcrap, Bullshit.”

Tegan poked my arm as an attempt to tease me, but she was just as quick as I was to haul off the foul language in front of our parents.

“And the rules are simple,” Mick went on, taking out the cards, sitting down and starting to shuffle them. “You get a stack of cards. We go around in a circle, and each person puts down at least one card of the number that belongs to their turn. So, say Chance was first to go. He’d put down an ace, or more, if he had any aces. Since I’m sitting to his left – we’ll go counterclockwise here – I’d put down a two, or multiple twos if I had some. And it goes on like that.”

Anthony, sitting between Tegan and Chance, added, “But if you don’t have the cards that go along with your turn, you just put down another card in your hand – just don’t let anybody know you’re faking it. That’s the key. Anybody can call bullshit if they think you’re lying, and if you are lying, you take the whole stack of cards everybody put down and we move on. First to get rid of all of their cards wins.”

Right as the explanation was finished and my head was spinning trying to put all that information into place, Andy crashed onto the couch next to me, his pants fully fastened and ready to go. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, eager.

The game started when Mick put down four aces, and of course, Andy called bullshit. To his surprise, though, Mick was telling the truth – and for that, Andy ended up with four aces in his hand, bringing up the rear.

I found safety in not saying anything and just minding my own business. It wasn’t worth the risk of being wrong to call out the word and only have a slight chance of being right. Plus, it paid off; ten minutes into the game, I had the least amount of cards and was about to put down my last hand, while everybody else was busy shuffling around their cards to find the one that was needed for their turn.

Conveniently, Chance brought up a completely new subject, however.

“Oh! You know what we haven’t talked about? Nicknames for these two!” he exclaimed, flailing his cards about and giving everybody a glimpse of his hand.

“Wait…what does that have to do with anything?” Tegan spoke up, keeping her cards close to her chest. “Does it give us extra powers, or…?”

Mick shook his head and moved the hair out of his face. “It doesn’t do much, really. We just gave each other nicknames to sound cool. Makes us feel like real superheroes, you know?”

Chance raised his hand. “First things first, I officially cast my vote for Oshie’s nickname to be Lesbro.”

Anthony shot him a sideways glance with one eyebrow cocked. “Why ‘Lesbro?’”

“’Cause he’s a lesbian’s bro. A Lesbro,” Mick explained. He nodded towards Tegan, who was smiling right back at him. Her not-so-obscure secret was out of the bag to him that day we swung by when they were figuring out their music video situation; he small talked to us on the couch and eventually, the subject came up.

Anthony tilted his head at Tegan, looking utterly confused. “I thought you and Oshie were a thing, though.”

Tegan elbowed me and I had to laugh, too. “Nope, boys are gross,” she said so casually.

I would be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt even a little bit, after years of having a little crush on her. It died once she came out and she never found out about it, but every so often I was reminded of that tiny little extra affection for her. I couldn’t blame her for being so nonchalant about saying things like that. God, it’s who she is. So I just kicked myself every time I felt sorry for myself, and then I moved on.

“I’d have to agree there,” I agreed just to add something to the mix. I then took a sip of soda from the can in front of me on the coffee table, paying careful attention to make sure it was my own can.

While I drank, though, Andy continued the conversation. “No, but seriously – the name Oshie just begs for the nickname Moshie. Fits like a glove.”

“But…I don’t mosh,” I spoke honestly.

“A weirdo name like Oshie just calls for it, dude! Think about it – Moshie Oshie Olayos,” he said, holding up his hands like he could just see the name in lights. “And seriously, who the hell came up with ‘Oshie?’”

I had the kind of name that substitute teachers hated and always mispronounced. “I don’t think my parents knew it’s more of a last name,” I said as a feeble attempt to excuse them.

“Better than sharing a name with one-half of the world’s probably most famous lesbian band,” Tegan pitched in, likely trying to make me feel better. (It worked.) “Like, seriously. Did my mom know in advance how cliché my name was gonna be?”

Nobody really listened to her, though, and Mick piped up to bring it back around to nicknames. “I’m gonna cast my vote to name you Tigerstripe Tegan Thompson, for the record.”

Tegan opened her mouth for a moment as if to object, but then she saw the coolness of her new codename and nodded along with it.

Andy clapped his hands together again like he was locking in our decisions. “It’s final, then – Moshie Oshie Olayos and Tigerstripe Tegan Thompson. Those are your new nicknames. Use them well.”

“What exactly are they used for?” I finally asked. “And what are your nicknames if they’re so huge?”

“They’re basically just that. Cool nicknames. Plus, if it comes down to it and we have to do some secret agent stuff, we can just call each other by them and stay all incognito,” Andy answered like it didn’t even matter.

Chance jumped in and answered my second question. “I’m Chilly Chance, Mick is Mighty Mick, Anthony’s nickname is Awesome Anthony, and Andy is -”

“Completely irrelevant! Unimportant. Don’t mention mine,” Andy cut him off rather harshly, actually standing up and leaning over to clamp a hand over his mouth. Although Chance swatted his hand away, he still laughed and shook it off like Andy’s weird reaction was nothing.

“What, is it that embarrassing?” Tegan asked.

Andy shrugged, collecting the cards he’d spilled on the table, and blushed a little bit. “Not really, I’m just not really…proud of it, I guess you could say.”

Anthony shot him a rare smile and said, “I think it suits you, Andy.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Mick said, smiling a lot more genuinely than Anthony was.

“You seem pretty proud of it. I mean, you got a tattoo of it on your leg, after all,” Chance threw into the mix.

Tegan and I immediately looked at his legs to see that tattoo, but our efforts fell short when we realized he was wearing long jeans. Andy saw us looking and said, “Ha!” with his tongue stuck out.

It was a long time until I found out Andy’s nickname. It wasn’t something that was pounding at my head, demanding to be answered, but I was curious. Knowing him, it was probably a really dirty word or it alluded to something embarrassing from his past. That killer look he was shooting Anthony after he shifted the focus of the get-together back to Bullshit let us know that it was serious business, though. I didn’t wanna cross the path of somebody who never gave me a reason to – so I didn’t.

I let sleeping dogs lie. My slight curiosity wasn’t worth it.
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I'm almost finished writing this whole thing. As a warning, I'm gonna give you all a heads-up - it's about 103,000 words. o_o

On a personal note, I just moved out for college, and boy, am I terrified. x"D