Backwards We Are Beckoned. Part 3

Micheal moves out to find his new life to be with a hot chick but coincidence strikes again at the BrOkEn bar when Micheal tries to get away from all the stuff going on.

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You're what? I asked, bewildered. Dan was moving into my room? But it was more like a closet! Bryan stood there, grinning. Great. Just like a used car salesman.

Dan slowly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. I took a good look at him for the first time.

He had cropped, blonde hair that seemed to flow together and meet at one central point; the center of his forehead. He had a broad, short face that sort of emphasized the haircut and a long neck leading down to a tight-fit shirt plastered with the Hollister logo. He wore jeans fastened with dangling keys and led down to an out-of-place pair of Converse.

I thought about a few words to describe him, and how he would replace me. Fashion disorder came to mind. Pretentiously nice. Prep. I wasn't a huge fan of the style, it seemed so-niceyface. I don't know. It was just wasn't my thing.

I thought about me fashion. Pretty sad, to tell you the truth. I had a few tight jeans from my one visit to PacSun and a studded belt from my favorite store; Hot Topic. My uncle used to take me there all the time. All my T-shirts are plastered with logos from NoFX, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bob Marley, Mayday Parade, Boomtown Rats and Genesis. Of course, I love all those bands and shirts but it seemed lacking somethinglike a shirt. I was more a walking endorsement then anything else.

I had a few concert shirts too, Rage Against the Machine, Sixx: A.M., Gin Blossoms and Pink Floyd (which I was wearing right now) but in the end I had no plain shirts other than a blue hoodie which said Snow Patrol on the front. My life was very musical. Even my shoes (Vans) had musical notes on them.

I had never thought about Dan being human, or musical either. He was just some guy. And Alex was musical? My mind was twisting every which way about every stone unturned. I snapped back to the conversation. Yep, Dan said cheerfully. Okaywell, that was fast.

The afternoon was like slowly painting a sunset; the humid weather rolled down me as the mover showed me my new dorm.

You'll be living with a girl named Marissa, He informed me. Don't worry; she's really nice. I didn't really care. When I got to my new area, Marissa was there on the couch. She wore a System of a Down shirt, studded belt and tight purple jeans. In the corner I saw those Converse boots (the kind you get a Journey?) that lace up to your knees.

She was hot, with a slim and slender body. Her slick brown hair ran down to the bottom of her shirt. She smiled at me and we introduced ourselves, but I was much too tired to be up for anything. At least my room was more than a closet this time.

I set out that evening to the Dark Side, where I expected to find the Voice waiting for me. (I had to name it something, right?) But as I played into the night, only crickets chirped along to the harmonies of the Velvet Underground and the Flaming Lips.

I kind of missed the voice. I know I had been to many concerts, and all the bands had that solid sound so all the instrument's noises were meshed together but playing guitar was lonely, a simple fraction of what I so desperately wanted to hear.

The Voice had given me something, a little glimpse into the realm of music, with more than just one noise. I sighed. And rested my guitar behind the dumpster. Tonight was not the night for me, I decided and headed off to a local bar.

I didn't want to sleep at my new place yet. I had barely slept at my old one, and Marissa seemed to have that atmosphere like one of those stuck up girls. (although she didn't act like it, she just had that look) Being a social blunder in human form, I figured she'd rather have the dorm to her self.

Neon lights flashed like thunder clouds screaming their tune. Only these lights were to the tune of BrOkEn'. Okay. Interesting name for a bar. It wasn't like me to go to a bar, but I had had a lot of drama lately and I figured a good slap in the face buzz would get that out of my system.

I walked in to blasting music, but it wasn't the kind of music I was expecting. They were playing Maroon 5 through the shattering speakers. I grinned.

The place was packed, full of drunk people, people making out and dancing freaks. I went to the bar tender and ordered Sam Adams. The bartender went to fetch some.

He looked no older than me, but he had a different look. A scar was on his right cheek, and stubble covered his chin. His eyes look fierce. Quite a contrast to the supposedly pleasant BrOkEn apron. He wore studded wristbands, studded belt and even DCs with studded straps. While I drank, we chatted a bit.

Turned out this was just his (or should I say Jonas) part time job, and he went to the same college I did.

I wouldn't be working this dead-end job, he groaned. If my brother hadn't been a deutsche bag and kicked me out,

Kicked you out? I asked. This guy was somebody I could easily communicate with. He was self-absorbed so I didn't have to talk about stuff.

He looked up at me. Ever heard of a band called Jukebox Raiders? I nodded. I had been to their concert once, and they were really good. He looked taken aback.

Well, I was the bassist. My brother was guitar and his bud Gorey sang. Then a bunch of assholes were on drums.

What happened? I queried. I didn't remember the bassist at all.

I wanted to play punk and some alternative, they wanted to play dance and pop. I don't have anything against dance and pop, but their radio-friendly shit had sucky basslines. When I improved on a concert, they told me to pack my shit and leave. So I socked him good and left.

I was rather amused. While I wouldn't have had the courage to punch him in the face, I could imagine this person in that situation.

Another customer came over. Oh, sorry, Jonas muttered and walked to fetch him something. I thought as I playfully sipped my beer.

I swiveled on my stool to take a good look at the crowd. Just then I spotted Marissa in the middle of the crowd, with no effing way Dan! They were making out hardcore in public and I felt something tickle my spine. I turned away in disgust and took a good swig of my beer.

Jonas came back after a minute or so. He looked at me. So what's your deal? He asked, raising an eyebrow. What brings you to a lowbrow place like this?

Oh, I don't know, I replied. Just wanna get away from all that shit in my life, you know?

Jonas laughed. Cheers, brother, he joked and toasted with an imaginary glass. I was getting pretty hammered. I wasn't good with alcohol, and I had been using it to get away from the scene oh so close to me and Jonas.

The speakers started playing Paint It Black and I smiled, recognizing the song as one of the first songs I had learned to play. The Stones weren't much good live anymore but they were a legend full of classics. I'd been to 3 concerts and owned half records on CDs and another third on cassette tapes.

Jonas must've felt the musician's aura eminating from me because he asked, You like the Stones?

I turned. Who doesn't, man? I dig this shit. I was talking like Jonas. Just yesterday and earlier today I was a total social failure. Jonas had awakened something in me like when you talk to a fellow musician about music. It's like a universal language.

We talked a bit more when I noticed a shadow behind me.

He's moving in with you? Asked a familiar voice. Daniel Sermon aka Barney, was right behind me and talking about me. So that meant

Yesh, tat'sh right! A familiar voice only slurred. It was Marissa, drunk.

I turned and smiled. Hey, man! I see you've met my friend, Marissa? Dan smiled.

Yep. I grinned half-heartedly back. Jonas looked indifferent to the whole conversation. I wish I could be like him at these moments.

Marissa was obviously drunk, staggering every where and slurring even the tiniest of words. She tripped over herself and started fall on the ground, but I caught her just before she met the floor.

Oh, shank you She mumbled, and fell asleep.

I sighed, handing her back to Dan.

What a handful, Dan shook his head. Sorry to bother you, man.

It's cool, let me introduce you to Jonas. Dan, Jonas. Jonas, Dan. Jonas smiled apathetically and Dan grinned as he reached for Marissa.

Suddenly her eyes popped open and she jumped on me, pressing her lips to mine and kissing for the longest I could remember. Then she was unconscious again on the floor. All of our mouths were agape as we tried to comprehend the overwhelmingness of what had just happened.

9 comments sorted by best / new / date

    AfoHot
    Some spelling errors but nice overall I'd say I'd read this Is it "douche bag" you mean instead of "deutsche bag"? I didn't know a "German bag" was a offensive word
    Colohue
    Cambridge Online Dictonary wrote: Results overwhelmingness was not found in the Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary
    saladforkspear
    adjective 1.that overwhelms; overpowering: The temptation to despair may become overwhelming. 2.so great as to render resistance or opposition useless: an overwhelming majority. Origin: 156575; overwhelm + -ing 2 Related forms: o⋅ver⋅whelm⋅ing⋅ly, adverb o⋅ver⋅whelm⋅ing⋅ness, noun
    Do I win?
    Colohue
    No. You can't beat the Cambridge Online Dictionary. If it isn't in there it doesn't exist.