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Radio stood on stage with his guitar strapped behind him. He
held the mic in his hands as he closed his eyes and sang the lyrics to
the punk ballad he had written. Fog. The name of the song was called
Fog. And he had written it for her. He was halfway through the second
verse when he opened his eyes and saw her walk up to the edge of the
crowd. She had come!
He smiled at her and grabbed his guitar from behind him as he was getting ready to rip into the chorus. The power chords glided from his fingers. She didn't smile back. He knew each chord as if etched on his heart. This was her song and she came to hear it. He hadn't had the chance to play it for her yet. Really, it was because she had been ignoring him. She always did that. And he hated it. But today, she was here and she was finally listening to her song.
He smiled at her and grabbed his guitar from behind him as he was getting ready to rip into the chorus. The power chords glided from his fingers. She didn't smile back. He knew each chord as if etched on his heart. This was her song and she came to hear it. He hadn't had the chance to play it for her yet. Really, it was because she had been ignoring him. She always did that. And he hated it. But today, she was here and she was finally listening to her song.
Fog.
Because she once said she liked the Fog.
And he remembered. But she always made him feel like he always remembered wrong.
So,
Fog. As the drums introduced the chorus with a fill. The distortion was
open. No palm muting. C# to D. Power chords electrifying the sound.
"But everything is so unclear..." He sang. "Like fog..." Next to him,
his bassist Tosh, came in with some backup vocals. "Like fog..." She
sang after him.
She was moving through the crowd but wouldn't come closer. She stayed by the edge of the crowd. It wasn't much of a big crowd since he was playing at his father's pizza parlor again. It wasn't the best. It was a little small to have big crowds showing up. But since they weren't that big yet, the pizza parlor would do. During the day, Radio tossed pizzas. At night, he strummed power chords away.
The song finished and Radio lifted the strap over his head. He placed the guitar on its stand. He grabbed the mic and thanked every one for coming. He announced their next show, made a motion for the kitchen telling the show goers to indulge in some amazing pizza, then bowed. It had been a good crowd, good energy. He smiled at Tosh.
"She came, eh?" Tosh said placing her bass on its stand.Radio nodded and walked off stage. Davey was already making his way to the counter to grab a slice of pizza. Since his father owned the pizza joint, his band mates ate for free. Well, they ate for free anyways because they had been friends since he could remember. The pizza was not that bad either.
Radio reached the edge of the dispersing crowd but he couldn't find her. Damn. Where'd she go? She always did this. She would come, but leave before he had a chance to talk to her. He walked over to the bathrooms but she wasn't there either. There was two single bathrooms both with their own doors. Both doors were opened exposing the punk rock posters taped all over the walls.
He sighed. He needed some fresh air. The crowd of people was making him a bit claustrophobic. He walked out the back door into the alley. It was a cool night. He leaned against the wall and that's when he saw her. She was walking away.
"Hey." He called out to her. Her curly, electric purple hair hung down to her shoulders.She didn't turn. He started after her.
"Hey, wait." She still didn't turn. He knew she heard him that time. He reached her; placing his hand on her shoulder. "Yo, what's going on?" She finally turned around and looked at him.
"What?" She asked. He looked at her and motioned with his hands a what-what motion.
"Are you just gonna keep ignoring me? For whatever it is I said this time?" He looked at her waiting. She was wearing her Rancid Hoodie. And those tight, skinny black jeans with tears on the knees. The Vans. Always the Vans. She was a vans girl. Never Chucks. Vans fit her better anyway. She had a whole closet full of Vans. She used every pair. Every. Single. Pair. He should've written a song about that instead of fog. How dumb could he be. Fog? Really?
"No, I'm over that. Really, I don't even know why I came." She said. He looked at her. He wanted to ask why she came but she had already said she didn't know. Like, what? He ran his hands through his red mohawk. There was so much glue and hairspray in the thing that it sprung right back up. He placed his hands into his leather jacket pockets and looked down.
"Maybe we can actually talk now?" He asked. She looked indifferent. She looked like she just wanted to get out of there. "Emily, what the fuck did I do now?"
"I don't know, JOHN, what did you do now?" He gave up. He fucking gave up. Cause trying to play the guessing game every time was exhausting. He loved her but it had been too long. All this back and forth rubber band thing she kept doing was exhausting him. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand in the air. "It's whatever. You wanna leave, leave." She looked at him and smiled, "Like fog, right? Like fucking fog?" She turned around and walked away.
Once again he was left standing alone and dejected. Fog. It was like fog. So unclear. Every time. She was the embodiment of fog. She would come around just to fog up his head with unclear statements and leave him with more questions than answers.
He shouldn't have bothered. He should just let it all go. He was tired. He had his band and that should be the main focus right now. Not some rubber band romance.
She was moving through the crowd but wouldn't come closer. She stayed by the edge of the crowd. It wasn't much of a big crowd since he was playing at his father's pizza parlor again. It wasn't the best. It was a little small to have big crowds showing up. But since they weren't that big yet, the pizza parlor would do. During the day, Radio tossed pizzas. At night, he strummed power chords away.
The song finished and Radio lifted the strap over his head. He placed the guitar on its stand. He grabbed the mic and thanked every one for coming. He announced their next show, made a motion for the kitchen telling the show goers to indulge in some amazing pizza, then bowed. It had been a good crowd, good energy. He smiled at Tosh.
"She came, eh?" Tosh said placing her bass on its stand.Radio nodded and walked off stage. Davey was already making his way to the counter to grab a slice of pizza. Since his father owned the pizza joint, his band mates ate for free. Well, they ate for free anyways because they had been friends since he could remember. The pizza was not that bad either.
Radio reached the edge of the dispersing crowd but he couldn't find her. Damn. Where'd she go? She always did this. She would come, but leave before he had a chance to talk to her. He walked over to the bathrooms but she wasn't there either. There was two single bathrooms both with their own doors. Both doors were opened exposing the punk rock posters taped all over the walls.
He sighed. He needed some fresh air. The crowd of people was making him a bit claustrophobic. He walked out the back door into the alley. It was a cool night. He leaned against the wall and that's when he saw her. She was walking away.
"Hey." He called out to her. Her curly, electric purple hair hung down to her shoulders.She didn't turn. He started after her.
"Hey, wait." She still didn't turn. He knew she heard him that time. He reached her; placing his hand on her shoulder. "Yo, what's going on?" She finally turned around and looked at him.
"What?" She asked. He looked at her and motioned with his hands a what-what motion.
"Are you just gonna keep ignoring me? For whatever it is I said this time?" He looked at her waiting. She was wearing her Rancid Hoodie. And those tight, skinny black jeans with tears on the knees. The Vans. Always the Vans. She was a vans girl. Never Chucks. Vans fit her better anyway. She had a whole closet full of Vans. She used every pair. Every. Single. Pair. He should've written a song about that instead of fog. How dumb could he be. Fog? Really?
"No, I'm over that. Really, I don't even know why I came." She said. He looked at her. He wanted to ask why she came but she had already said she didn't know. Like, what? He ran his hands through his red mohawk. There was so much glue and hairspray in the thing that it sprung right back up. He placed his hands into his leather jacket pockets and looked down.
"Maybe we can actually talk now?" He asked. She looked indifferent. She looked like she just wanted to get out of there. "Emily, what the fuck did I do now?"
"I don't know, JOHN, what did you do now?" He gave up. He fucking gave up. Cause trying to play the guessing game every time was exhausting. He loved her but it had been too long. All this back and forth rubber band thing she kept doing was exhausting him. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand in the air. "It's whatever. You wanna leave, leave." She looked at him and smiled, "Like fog, right? Like fucking fog?" She turned around and walked away.
Once again he was left standing alone and dejected. Fog. It was like fog. So unclear. Every time. She was the embodiment of fog. She would come around just to fog up his head with unclear statements and leave him with more questions than answers.
He shouldn't have bothered. He should just let it all go. He was tired. He had his band and that should be the main focus right now. Not some rubber band romance.
"FUCK YOU!" He yelled at her. She paid no mind as she turned the
corner. Little did he know that in a few days time, she would be the
least of his worries. He walked back into the parlor to grab a slice of
pizza and hang out with the people that came to see his band. A huge
banner with scratchy font hung behind the stage. The Distortions it
read. They were The Distortions. And The Distortions main mission right
now was to stuff their faces with pizza and guzzle gallons of fizzy
drinks.
Tomorrow could wait.
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