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Post by Kennedy DeWitt on Mar 27, 2009 1:23:49 GMT -5
She was taking a break from dress rehearsal. Everyone was. Who could blame them? It was lunch time. She left her bass guitar in the care of the techie. A person she knew would care for her guitar as if his life depended on it. And when it came to Ken and her instrument...it might if she was really grouchy. Hopefully she would be better this afternoon. Especially once she had a hot dog. She needed the grease and questionable contents that made up the pheonomon called the hot dog. It always seemed to sooth her. Especially once she added mustard, ketchup, onions and relish. She was an old fashioned type of girl in that sense.
Kennedy brushed her long pale blonde hair over her shoulder and walked down onto the grounds. She knew that there was some place around nearby to get a hot dog. She had found it earlier, but all the practice had distracted her because she had had to work so hard on some of her chords, things she had been certain she had down. She had been wrong apparently. That's why you fixed it and moved on. Of course, when fixing it meant that you forgot where the hot dog stand was...there was a serious problem.
Kennedy sighed and racked a hand through her hair scattering the pins that had held her layered bangs in place. "Well hell..." she growled annoyed. |
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Post by christian drake on Mar 27, 2009 2:03:18 GMT -5
you made yourself a bed
at the bottom of the blackest hole
and convince yourself that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore   -----------x--x------------
Out of everyone on earth Christian often felt as though his band where his true family. Keeping in mind that is including his true family...and also keeping in mind that his twin brother just so happened to be in the band. But that's besides the point. The point I'm trying to make is that after a great rehearsal...well, a decent rehearsal. Rehearsals never went great, even if the bands got along as well as Christian and his band did. His brother had broken a couple drum sticks, and Christian had to run to their van and get his spares. And then to top it all off he was starting to get a soar throat, and so they decided to take a break...and let Christian get some water or something, to sooth the burning that was taking place.
He walked away, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, not looking back to see his band members all lazing around. He needed water...or something. A cough drop...although he doubted very much that anyone around him would actually have a cough drop. And so he decided to look around for a bottle of water, clearing his throat as though it might help...even though it didn't. He knew he would be fucked if he couldn't sing for their next show...and he would feel absolutely horrible if he was the cause of them sucking. Not that most people in his band would let him know it was his fault...then again, maybe they would. He didn't know. he wasn't usually the cause of their failure...
But of course after quite a few minutes of looking around he didn't spot a single person he knew with a water bottle. How could no one have a water bottle?! This made no sense. And he refused to take water from a stranger...there was no telling what diseases people had. He wasn't taking any chances. Drinking off one bottle could go from soar throat to mono in one little sip, and he knew it. Then, looking around in one last desperate attempt, he saw it. His heaven. He saw a stand with a stack of water bottles on it, just calling for him. His brown eyes lit up, and he glided smoothly over it, taking a bottle off the top...and then knocking the rest over with his elbow in the haste.
"Damn it.." He muttered, bending over and starting to pick them up all by himself. He was sure everyone around him was staring at him, and he kind of wished he could be invisible..but knew he couldn't. It was absolutely positively physically impossible.
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Status;; finished
word count;; 456
tags; Kennedy DeWitt
lyrics; when it rains by paramore [/center] |
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