Too Young, Too Soon
"What's the holdup?" asks Angus as he comes back into the club after
loading all his equipment into his car.
"He's saying goodbye to every last bill," said the drummer, affectionately
known as "Tape" - a nickname he earned due to his eating habits.
Sharks have to move continuously in order to breathe. Tape needs to
eat 24/7, or he loses weight.
Soon, every member of the band is mulling around, waiting for the
venue owner to hand out the money for the gig. Every piece of
equipment has been loaded. The 'idiot check' for stray cords and
accessories has already been done. Twice.
"Goodbye, Andrew. I hardly got to know you," the owner is overheard
saying to a $20 bill. " In another time, another place, maybe...."
His words trail off as the sadness of losing something so dear to him hits
home. And it's only the beginning.
"BEN!!! BEN!!! WHY?!? Oh, why...."
Now he's really breaking down. It's an open-drawer ceremony. The bills
look crisp. "You were too young, Alexander....too....young," he says, as
he counts out a $10 bill. "OH, GOD! You were a series H!!! SERIES H!!
You KNEW how much I love that! Didn't you? I hope you can still hear me."
"Large" - the band leader - shakes his head in disbelief as the owner wails
"Abe....remember the good times?? Why do you have to go?" to a $5 bill.
"You'd think the guy didn't make any money tonight," Large says.
Tape rolls his eyes. "I've been here before. He puts on this act no matter
how many customers were in the room. He just can't part with the money.
Look at him in there. COME ON, man, I want to get some chow before
Bill 'n' Bob's closes."
After what seems like hours, the owner steps out of the office and hands
the money to Large. Large has to give a little extra effort in order to pull
the cash from the owner's hand. Unable to contain his emotions, the
owner's eyes begin to well up with tears. Large shrugs it off, just looking
to finally get out the door.
Almost an hour after they should have been home, the band make
their way to their cars.
The owner retreats into his office and resumes his anguished cries.
"They didn't deserve to go like that. It's just not right...."
He stays up all night paying homage to his fallen friends.
His last act before going home is to put a candle in the window,
though deep down inside, he knows he will never see them again.
He whimpers quietly to himself: "...series H...."
loading all his equipment into his car.
"He's saying goodbye to every last bill," said the drummer, affectionately
known as "Tape" - a nickname he earned due to his eating habits.
Sharks have to move continuously in order to breathe. Tape needs to
eat 24/7, or he loses weight.
Soon, every member of the band is mulling around, waiting for the
venue owner to hand out the money for the gig. Every piece of
equipment has been loaded. The 'idiot check' for stray cords and
accessories has already been done. Twice.
"Goodbye, Andrew. I hardly got to know you," the owner is overheard
saying to a $20 bill. "
His words trail off as the sadness of losing something so dear to him hits
home. And it's only the beginning.
"BEN!!! BEN!!! WHY?!? Oh, why...."
Now he's really breaking down. It's an open-drawer ceremony. The bills
look crisp. "You were too young, Alexander....too....young," he says, as
he counts out a $10 bill. "OH, GOD! You were a series H!!! SERIES H!!
You KNEW how much I love that! Didn't you? I hope you can still hear me."
"Large" - the band leader - shakes his head in disbelief as the owner wails
"Abe....remember the good times?? Why do you have to go?" to a $5 bill.
"You'd think the guy didn't make any money tonight," Large says.
Tape rolls his eyes. "I've been here before. He puts on this act no matter
how many customers were in the room. He just can't part with the money.
Look at him in there. COME ON, man, I want to get some chow before
Bill 'n' Bob's closes."
After what seems like hours, the owner steps out of the office and hands
the money to Large. Large has to give a little extra effort in order to pull
the cash from the owner's hand. Unable to contain his emotions, the
owner's eyes begin to well up with tears. Large shrugs it off, just looking
to finally get out the door.
Almost an hour after they should have been home, the band make
their way to their cars.
The owner retreats into his office and resumes his anguished cries.
"They didn't deserve to go like that.
He stays up all night paying homage to his fallen friends.
His last act before going home is to put a candle in the window,
though deep down inside, he knows he will never see them again.
He whimpers quietly to himself: "...series H...."
posted by Mr. L at 10:18 AM
5 Comments:
I've run into owners like that too. Idiots. I've also run into the kind that give me money when they made NONE. In one place I routinely make more in tips than they pay me or more than they made that night selling coffee. In that case, i occasionally give the money back. But only because I need them to survive as a venue.
at least it was a paying gig! you need some cool merch and a babe to sell it, then those owners won't seem so pesky.
Bud: What makes you think this story is based on a real event!?
Can't a guy write a little fiction once in awhile? LOL!!!!!
There is no tip jar in the blues, btw. Apparently when your baby leaves you, she takes it with her
and leaves you with a broken-down mule.
HM: Oh, we've got merch. We bring the CDs to the gigs and we generally take 'em back home afterward unless people actually listened to us (or got extremely drunk). Sometimes it's just another thing to carry! The owners don't get a cut...serves 'em right.
pics have been posted of the four-eyed geeky goddess on my site...just for you :)
Good choice! Like they've always belonged there...
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