Paradise by the Xerox Light
Part 1: Getting Gussied Up
“Bob, your tie always makes me laugh,” Gerard chuckled over my shoulder. I was annoyed already, and the guys weren’t making it any easier. I glared angrily at his reflection in the mirror as I tightened my Windsor knot.
“Oh, leave Bob alone, you know he likes getting all gussied up when we go to Warner Brothers,” Ray shouted from his place on the couch. God knows I love the guy, but half of the time, he’s not much better than the others. Yeah, it was true, I do always wear a tie when we go see the management, but I feel that it’s a proper formality for those occasions. I always take business more seriously than the others. Frankie and Mikey are college dropouts, for chrissakes; they’ve never had to worry about red tape or documents in triplicate. But I have, and I enjoy it. Something about being in an office makes me feel powerful.
Mikey chimed in, “Bob’s gotta get his game face on for the big meeting,” giggling like a cracked-out schoolgirl. The sound effects from his PSP only added to my growing crabbiness.
I turned and told the room, “Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you guys to take these meetings seriously. What these people have to say directly affects what we do with our music, and if we piss them off, they could drop us LIKE THAT.” My tirade was falling on deaf ears, but I had ceased to care.
“Well, sorry we don’t all have a hard-on for business like you do, Bob-o,” Mikey giggled again, nearly falling off the couch while laughing at his own bad joke.
Frankie exited the bathroom, toweling his hair. “It’s not just business he has a hard-on for,” he announced, grinning at me maniacally. “It’s that hot receptionist, Firith…”
This really pissed me off. “Hey, you leave her out of this!” Yeah, it was also true that I’d loved Firith since I met her the day I became the official drummer, but I didn’t want Frankie talking about her like that. Of my four bandmates, sometimes I really just can’t help but hate Frankie.
Gerard was practically dying with laughter. “OH, BOB! GIVE IT TO ME!!!!” he shouted, making his voice higher. Frankie came up behind him and mimed doggy-style, trying to imitate my voice. “Oh, baby, yeah, right there….”
I had officially lost my temper. At top speed, I whipped out my cell phone and flashed a couple of quick pictures. “DON’T TALK ABOUT FIRITH THAT WAY, OR I’LL TAKE THESE TO THE PRESS!” They pulled away and sat down, and I stepped off the bus, triumphant in my victory.
“Oh, leave Bob alone, you know he likes getting all gussied up when we go to Warner Brothers,” Ray shouted from his place on the couch. God knows I love the guy, but half of the time, he’s not much better than the others. Yeah, it was true, I do always wear a tie when we go see the management, but I feel that it’s a proper formality for those occasions. I always take business more seriously than the others. Frankie and Mikey are college dropouts, for chrissakes; they’ve never had to worry about red tape or documents in triplicate. But I have, and I enjoy it. Something about being in an office makes me feel powerful.
Mikey chimed in, “Bob’s gotta get his game face on for the big meeting,” giggling like a cracked-out schoolgirl. The sound effects from his PSP only added to my growing crabbiness.
I turned and told the room, “Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you guys to take these meetings seriously. What these people have to say directly affects what we do with our music, and if we piss them off, they could drop us LIKE THAT.” My tirade was falling on deaf ears, but I had ceased to care.
“Well, sorry we don’t all have a hard-on for business like you do, Bob-o,” Mikey giggled again, nearly falling off the couch while laughing at his own bad joke.
Frankie exited the bathroom, toweling his hair. “It’s not just business he has a hard-on for,” he announced, grinning at me maniacally. “It’s that hot receptionist, Firith…”
This really pissed me off. “Hey, you leave her out of this!” Yeah, it was also true that I’d loved Firith since I met her the day I became the official drummer, but I didn’t want Frankie talking about her like that. Of my four bandmates, sometimes I really just can’t help but hate Frankie.
Gerard was practically dying with laughter. “OH, BOB! GIVE IT TO ME!!!!” he shouted, making his voice higher. Frankie came up behind him and mimed doggy-style, trying to imitate my voice. “Oh, baby, yeah, right there….”
I had officially lost my temper. At top speed, I whipped out my cell phone and flashed a couple of quick pictures. “DON’T TALK ABOUT FIRITH THAT WAY, OR I’LL TAKE THESE TO THE PRESS!” They pulled away and sat down, and I stepped off the bus, triumphant in my victory.