"What is that?"
I heard her question, but I didn't acknowledge it, either because I was too into the song or because I just didn't care enough to answer. Whichever it was, I just kept playing. Eventually I'd get tired of that riff and I would stop playing long enough to think of something else to play. If she really cared she could ask again in that momentary lull. Then I would reevaluate whether or not I cared enough to answer.
"What is that, Joe?"
I heard her again. Again I ignored her. I think that time she got the point. I could tell she was a little bit hurt. I didn't care. I could do way better, and I'd already gotten in her pants anyway. Let her dump me. I was beginning to get tired of the song I had started playing 4 minutes earlier.
"What is that?"
She asked one last time just so she could be certain that I was ignoring her. And I was. But I was also bored so I used her question as an excuse to stop playing. I still didn't answer though. I just leaned back, took my hands off the guitar and took a deep but quiet breath. Finally, after I had rested about half a minute, Ben pulled himself away from an intense game of Halo 2 long enough to say "Dude, I liked that one. It was pretty hardcore. What was it?"
"I don't know. I was just playing around. I didn't like it that much. It got boring." As I responded to Ben's version of Grace's question, I glanced at Grace to make sure she got the hint. She did.
"Well yeah, it got boring, but you could always spice it up. Add a solo or some improv or something. I at least wanna hear it with a bassline. Do you mind if I work one up real quick?"
“You don’t need my permission, Ben.”
He walked to the corner of the room and picked up his bass, and sat down next to Grace. He plugged into the bass amp stacked on top of my amp and tuned up.
"Alright, so you were playing C, A minor, F, G for the part with the chords, right?"
"No, C, A minor, F sharp, G."
"Close enough. Let's give this a shot…"
He began to play a steady bassline, slow and soft at first but gradually increasing in speed and volume as he got more comfortable with his work. Once he had played through it a couple times, I repositioned my guitar and began to play what I had been playing earlier. At first his line didn't fit with my riffs and progressions, but he altered it as we went along and after a few minutes it began to sound like a halfway decent song.
Eventually, Tom started to beat on the ground, the couch he was sitting on, the pillows he was sharing that couch with and anything else he could find that made a noise. This is how the percussion sections of most of our songs were born.
Finally, once we had reached a point where the song was worth writing, I called an end to our little jam. Tom went back to his nap. Ben turned back to the TV and resumed his Halo session. I got up and pushed him off of the couch, and then took the spot next to Grace. I could tell I had pissed her off by ignoring her. Mission accomplished. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "We're through.” And so I was free. I had realized in the course of the week that we had been dating that Grace was not my type. Not at all. I whispered back to her, “Get out.” This was originally supposed to be a guy’s night, but she believed she had a right to be there so she showed up anyway. At my prompt to leave, she stood up, picked up her gargantuan purse, and stormed out the door. Free at last, free at last.
"What was that about, man?" asked Tom, waking up only because the door had been slammed and falling asleep immediately after he received an answer to his question.
"Gentlemen, the relationship from hell has come to an end. I'm a free man once again." I replied, prompting Tom's return to slumber. Lazy fatass.
"It's about time, man. She was a bitch," said Ben.
"I know. Let's get some chow." With this I gave Tom a firm kick in the side, waking him up.
“Best idea you’ve had yet this evening, man,” agreed Ben, “I’m starving.” So the three of us made our way outside and piled into my sorry excuse for an automobile. I turned the key, put it in drive, hit the pedal, and we were off. We didn’t have to discuss where we were going. It was well understood that three single, teenage guys on a Saturday night know exactly where to go. The Alley.
The Alley was not an eating establishment, per say. It was more of an… everything establishment. Food, music, television, games, women, and everything else a teenager could ever dream of. It was the local hangout for “kids like us”. We knew going there would not only satisfy our hunger for food, but also our hunger for entertainment. One thing you could always count on The Alley for was providing you with something to do on a boring evening. The place itself sounds entertaining enough, but in reality, it quickly gets boring for me and my friends. It’s just not our style. What the ‘something to do’ was was more like inspiration. We went there to think.
/ my profile 
