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Secondary thread: RockSaturday
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| alex_makh | Date: Friday, 12.11.2010, 04:01 | Message # 1 |
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| The evening was going to be like hundreds of Saturday evenings. Especially for Dave. He always knew what’s gonna happen, or at least could predict it with 90 percent probability. Will it be a bar, a club, a big concert hall or a dirty den somewhere in suburbs – everything will be the same…
He carefully checks everything – every cymbal is wrapped in its own plastic bag and lies in the case. Two pairs of drumsticks – one is already old, frayed and looks unreliable, so there is another pair of perfectly-new Vic Firths binded with a common piece of red cardboard. The snare drum sounds perfectly – every screw is screwed as it should be. Clothes. Favorite gig-jeans – blue and torn, but favorite. T-shirt. No matter which one – there is no T-shirt in the World which does not do for absorbing sweat and being thrown to the ecstatic fans after a gig. Shoes. Undoubtedly Converse All Star’s. Which ones – red, black, green, yellow, blue, dark-blue or grey? Black – when it’s hard to choose – choose the neutral. Now pockets. A pack of strong fags, cell…. Jack Daniel’s logo Zippo lighter… cash-box..how much is there? 200 greens? Ok. Then loading all the stuff in the car and riding to the place. Friends, mates, girls and ordinary drunkards looking for some attention and two bucks. A pair of Jacks or Jims… or Turkeys if the place is a complete hole. Sound check. Another glass. Then the gig itself – nothing special – just another one. Then damned fans, jokes, autographs, dozens of drinks, getting zonked and pissed off like a damned Scotsman, picking up a random girl, taking a cab and stuff like that, as usual…
Sometimes he thought that all this have cowed ‘em completely and it would be cute to stop that shit and move to a tranquil place but he actually liked that all and cannot live without all the stuff, no matter how he felt or thought.
So, as it was said, everything was going to be quite ordinary…
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| alex_makh | Date: Friday, 19.11.2010, 04:44 | Message # 2 |
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Monitor
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| He got up with a terrible headache. He actually did not get up – he just opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. It was the first picture he saw every day – as a strong man of high self-appraisal, and solid life principles he always liked sleeping supine. The ceiling was white as usual, but the thing that was unusual in the room, was a cute girl lying near Derek, smiling with her eyes closed and sweetly breathing, as if she was having a very pleasant dream.
Derek looked at her, and understood that something was wrong with her. No, she looked OK, and more than that, she was really pretty, but something was not OK with her – she didn’t look like those girls, lying in his bed in the morning after a gig. He tried to remember, what has happened the night before, but failed. In any case, he never liked thinking about one certain thing for too long - some time passes, and everything becomes clear, sooner or later.
He didn’t want to leave the warm and soft bed, but an amount of liquid of different percent were acting up, and he finally decided to drag his ass out from under the blanket and go the loo. Getting up, he trod upon something cold and rubber. “A used condom” – ascertained he to himself after looking down – “so, you weren’t so plastered to forget about your little gum-friend, yeah?”, and with these thoughts and smile on his face he went to the closet. While he was having an incomparable pleasure of morning tinkling, he took a cigarette from stock pack lying on the toilet cistern, and lit it with a lighter, lying in the same place.
He went to the kitchen with a fag in his mouth, and opened the fridge. Eggs, sausages, yesterday’s unfinished stake, butter, cheese, soy sauce (what’s it doing in here? Oh, was left by one hot sushi-lover), spoiled milk (I thought I’d thrown it a week ago.. OK, will throw it away next time), a can of beans, tomatoes….
-Oh here you are! – exclaimed he gladly and took an ice-cold beer bottle, opened it, made a big gulp, threw the cork into the sink and went back to the bedroom.
He plumped into the bed putting fag into the ashtray on the table at the same time, and turned on TV.
-mmmm…..shut that box… - said the girl with her eyes still closed
He turned the telly off and looked at her. She was narrowing her lids in the light, and smiling.
-Goon morning –he said
-gooood… if only it was good… – she said rubbing her temples. It seemed that she had a strong hangover too. – What time is it now?
-I dunno… - he leaned over the bed and took the cell from the floor... – one AM.
-ONE? – she jumped out of the bed, as if she wasn’t lying there crushed a second ago.. – It’s bad! It’s very bad! I’m damned late!
She was dressing herself hurry-scurry, picking up her clothes from the floor. After that she rummaged in her bag, found a pen and crumpled piece of paper and hastily wrote something on it.
-Here is my number, call me – she said and gave the paper to Derek, than she ran to the corridor and began putting on her shoes. Derek, who was sitting in the bed all the time and, finally understood what was happening, and got up to see her to the door. When he reached the corridor she was already clad, shod and ready to leave.
-Bye – she said and gave him a smack on the cheek. She did it in such manner that Derek for a moment thought, that they were acquainted since childhood.
-Oh, stop! What’s you name?
-Alice! - She answered with a smile, blew a kiss for him and ran out of the flat.
Derek closed the door, went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette.
-Alice… what a nice name – Alice…
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