Professor Dog
ONE
Doug isn’t very funny.
“You should be a comedian dude.”
Well, maybe I was too quick to judge. Doug is pretty funny, just not intentionally. His deep self-pity is frequently interpreted as clever sarcasm.
“I could never be a comedian man,” Doug says as he hops in the back seat of the van, “Seriously, like, what could I talk about? Would I just tell them about my day? Like an old couple eating dinner? ‘Oh what did you have for breakfast today? A bagel and cream cheese? That’s nice.’”
“Nah dude, you know, I think I would be a pretty great comedian,” Jones remarks from the front seat as he lights a cigarette, “Like, I used to write material down and stuff.”
“Really? You remember any bits?”
“Not really…” Jones hands a cigarette back to Arielle, “Here you go.” Calvin starts up the car.
“Oh thanks,” Arielle says, “Damn, do I love me some cancer sticks.”
“You want one?” Jones asks Doug.
“Nah man,” Doug says. Doug actually does smoke, but only when he drinks. That being said, he smokes as much as a average smoker.
“Alright, I feels ya.”
Calvin interjects with, “Um, yo Jones, do we have to go and scoop up Evan?”
“Nah, I think he got a ride from his girlfriend.”
Evan Bonei was their newly permanent opening act. A childhood friend of Jones; he never quite found a place within the band itself, so he stayed solo.
“Here you are,” Calvin says as he throws something into Katie’s, excuse me, Arielle’s lap. Her full name is Katherine Arielle, but prefers to go by Arielle.
“What’s this?” She asks.
“What does it look like?”
She sniffs it, “A joint? What’s this for?”
“For dinner, Arielle. It’s for dinner,” Calvin says, “No, that’s for you three to share. Go on: Eat up.” As Calvin drives, he lights his own joint that he had saved for himself.
“Uh, nah, you two can share that,” Doug says, “It makes it, like, hard to concentrate when I’m playing. Um, can I have the roaches for after though?”
“I think we’re certainly capable of doing that,” Jones says as Arielle passes the joint to him.
A pile of musical instruments sits quietly behind Arielle, anxious to be unloaded when they arrive to the 24-Hour Coffee Shop. Along with being Doug’s place of employment, the coffee shop has a vacant second floor, which from now on will be used as the band’s regular venue. Barry Maxwell, the owner of the coffee shop (and Doug’s boss), organized the show and will as well be hosting it.
“Jesus, I really really hope I don’t see Eve there,” Doug whines, referring to his ex-girlfriend. Arielle takes a long drag off the joint.
“Fuck her man! I don’t want to see that manipulative whore, either,” Jones growls, “Goddamn. Bitches ain’t shit. That is why I do not deal with that shit.” Jones isn’t gay, nor is he straight. He’s kind of just an enigma that way.
“Jones, I don’t think it’s normal for the friend to be more aggressively hateful towards the ex than the actual ex-boyfriend,” Doug says with a smirk.
“Dude, I do not give a shit. Fuck her.”
They pull into the parking lot and begin hauling their equipment up the narrow set of stairs leading up to the second floor. They drop it off in the empty white room behind the stage.
“You guys in need of any help?” Barry offers as he approaches them. Barry is exactly the kind of guy who manages to look helpful by finding you after you’ve completed your task and offering to assist you with it.
“Nah, I think we’re good,” Doug says with a sigh.
“Ready for your first show?”
“Actually, you know I haven’t really thought about it much.”
“I’m always ready,” Calvin answers, attempting to participate in the conversation.
“Have any of you fellows seen Evan?” Barry asks with concern.
“Uh… no. Not yet, but I’m pretty sure he’s got a ride,” Jones says, “He should be here relatively soon.”
Arielle sits quietly in the background and practices her complicated solos.
“You ready Arielle?” Doug asks with a smile.
“Huh? Yeah. I mean, are we going up soon?”
“Oh. No, I mean, I was just asking.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I’m totally ready,” She gleefully says.
Calvin’s eyes light up when he notices a table full of food opposite the stage, “Oh my good lord, what do we have here? Do we have… a snack stand?”
“We certainly do Calvin,” Barry confirms, “I decided it would be a smart idea to operate the coffee shop up here during the shows.”
“It really, really is,” Calvin says as he slowly moves his way towards it.
“Go ahead, all of you kids can have whatever you’d like.”
“Thank you so so very much,” Calvin says as he responds to the chocolate chip muffin that was undeniably calling for him.
“Jones, do you have the set list?” Doug asks.
“Yeah, I taped it to the side of the drums.”
People slowly began drifting into the small venue. Barry was charging five dollars at the door and was stamping giraffes on peoples’ hands.
Calvin eventually parts from the snack table when approached by his friend, Blake. Calvin approaches the rest of the band with Blake by his side.
“Hey guys, this is Blake,” Calvin says, “He works with me at Staples.”
“Hey dudes,” Blake says as he shakes the boys’ hands.
“Hey Arielle, this is Blake.”
Arielle looks up from her guitar, “Hi Blake.” She looks back down at her guitar and continues practicing. “Wait. Hey,” she says as she suddenly jerks up her head, “Aren’t you in a band around here?”
“Actually yeah: The Chinese Takeouts. It’s this band I’m in with my girlfriend, her brother, and few other dudes. Maybe we can play here with you guys sometime.”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” Calvin says, “Well, uh, enjoy the show man.”
“I will, later dudes,” he says as he walks away towards a short girl with a long flower-print dress.
Time passes and the clock approaches eight, which is when the show begins. But Evan has not yet arrived.
“Hey Barry, I don’t have a clue where Evan is,” Jones says.
“Does he have a phone?”
“Nah…”
Conveniently, at that moment, Evan’s bearded silhouette could be seen walking through the entrance to the second floor.
“Evan!”
“What up?” Evan says sounding exhausted.
“Where were you man? You’re about to go up,” Jones exclaims.
“Long story,” Evan says, “Bitchy girlfriend. Or rather bitchy ex-girlfriend. Whatever. She was my ride. So I took a taxi up here and um, we ready to start?”
He picks up his guitar.
TWO
Stage fright is an odd concept. Why would one be afraid to get attention and recognition for preparing a performance for ones joy and others’ entertainment? This is how Doug feels about it.
He stands on the left side of the stage and awaits the first song.
“Hey guys,” Jones greets the audience, “I’m Jones.”
Jones is your pretty average guy, I guess. When he was a kid, instead of realizing he was attracted to men, he realized he wasn’t attracted to anyone (which actually stirs up more social stigma). He was literally born without a drive for sex. He doesn’t even masturbate. Also, he’s sort of a paradox within the band, in that he is the bass player: so he’s the least important member, and he is the singer: so he’s the most important member.
“This is Arielle.”
Arielle is pretty soft-spoken, but give her a guitar and she might have a few things to say. She’s been playing guitar as a hobby for years, and has progressively gotten better. A good night for her includes a book of poetry and a lot of strong tea.
“This guy back here is Calvin.”
Calvin isn’t the brightest guy, but he makes up for it with a friendly personality and large stash of marijuana. He can’t read very well and will punch you if you make fun of him for it. His full name is Calvin Hobbes, and he completely hates his parents for it.
“And last, but certainly not least, my pal Doug.”
Doug gives the audience a smirk and a neutral wave of awareness. Doug attempted to learn to play the guitar when he was a teenager, but stopped going to the lessons halfway through. That’s why he plays rhythm guitar. Jones and he went to high school together and that is the only reason that they are still sane today.
“This is our first show,” Jones informs, “Um, we’re Professor Dog and this is a song called Paper Cuts.”
“One! Two! Three! Four!”
THREE
“You guys were just great, like, really great,” Ari compliments, “Like, really, you guys were just wonderful. I’m overwhelmed. I’m just so, so, so glad that I came. Like, seriously, great job guys.”
Ari is an Indian kid in Doug’s philosophy class, and exactly the kind of person who doesn’t know how to deliver a compliment.
“Well,” Doug says with a smile to Arielle, “I think that went fairly well for our first show.”
“I do, too,” she replies with a cute smirk as Fiona comes skipping towards them.
“Oh, you were so good!” She congratulates Doug with a hug, “Finally, now I have something I can be proud of my brother for.”
“Oh thanks, Fiona. You always have the sweetest things to say.”
“So,” she asks, “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing alright. Getting the band off the ground: really happy about that. I’m finally doing something, you know? It feels good.”
“How about your love life?”
“Um, pretty dry right now. Still trying to get over Eve...”
“Oh jeez, speaking of Eve,” Fiona says with her finger directed behind him.
“Oh god, is she here? Is she behind me? Dammit, I could swear she wasn’t here.”
“Hmm, well. I think it’s fine, she looks like she’s on her way out.”
“Oh, thank god.”
Arielle walks up behind them with a guitar case in her hand. Fiona notices her and says, “Oh, yes! Finally, a girl I’m happy to see!”
“Hello Fiona,” Arielle lets out as Fiona embraces her.
“So! How are you?”
“I’m okay. I got-”
Before she could finish, Jones was already standing on a table, yelling for the room’s attention.
“Everybody! Everybody! Hey! Everyone!” He yells as people get quiet, “If you will follow me out, I will lead you to my apartment. At my apartment, we will be having a bit of a get-together, a party. So, come along!”
He jumps off the table and begins leading people out.
“Oh, well it looks like I’m having a party at my house. That’s cool,” Doug sarcastically remarks.
Like a mob, the group of mainly college kids, walk down the city streets, pausing their conversations only between sips of coffee. Soon enough though, they reach their destination and are led up a few sets of stairs by the valiant Jones. Their apartment is quite plain. The main piece of furniture is an L-shaped couch, sitting across from the television and next to the window gazing over the city street.
“Alright, first thing,” Jones announces as they flow into the apartment, “Right now, I’ve only got two twenty-four packs. So, I’m gonna go on a beer run and whoever has some cash they would like to throw in, that would just be fabulous.”
Jones mingles with people and soon manages to collect the money he needed. Doug claims a spot on the couch early and puts on some cheesy eighties comedy to hold the bored party goers over. As he ventures back from getting a beer, Arielle stops him in his tracks.
“Hey Doug,” she says neurotically.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?”
“Not much, how are you enjoying the party?”
“It’s alright, you know.”
“Could I, like, talk to you for a second?”
“Um… sure-” he says as Fiona interrupts him, a tall girl at her side.
“Doug, I have to introduce you to my friend,” she says with excitement, “This is Norah.” Doug isn’t the kind of guy who denies it when he sees a pretty lady, and he certainly sees one right now. Norah is tall and thin, but not without curves. Her face is strong, yet soft, and at the same time, defined. Every word she speaks seems to be spoken by a fine Greek sculpture, now on display in Doug’s apartment after being purchased at an auction for thousands of dollars.
“Hi Norah,” he says as Arielle walks away towards the kitchen.
Jones soon arrives with a bottle of red wine and three more twenty-four packs. As people slowly get more intoxicated, and the trash bin more full, the party becomes significantly more entertaining, The eighties comedy also becomes much funnier, unfortunately everyone is too busy being drunk to notice.
“Are you for real here? Like, thats really fucking cool,” Doug says as he rests he legs up on the brown chest that sits in front of his couch.
“Thank you,” she says with a giggle, “Um, but yeah, it's going to be at that gallery downtown next Sunday. You should come by if you want.”
“Yes, absolutely. I'd love to come by.”
“Great. I'm glad.”
“Um, okay,” Doug says, “This is just a question that needs to be asked: Coke or Pepsi?”
She takes a moment to think. “Water,” she says.
“Ah! So, you passed my test. I like your style,” Doug says as Calvin places himself between the two on the couch.
“Yo, um, so you guys trying to smoke some weed?”
“Oh no, but that's illegal!”
“So you want to?”
“Of course.”
“Alright, just like, keep it on the down low because I'm not trying to have to deal with any sleazy motherfuckers begging me for a hit.”
“Sure,” Doug says, “We can, uh, do it my room. That would work.”
The three step up and begin walking towards his room.
“Oh, so Calvin, this is Norah. Norah, Calvin,” Doug says with the acceptable hand motions.
“Hi,” she says.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
As they walk into the room, Doug says, “Wait, dude, what about Jones and Arielle?”
“Jones passed out dude.”
“Yeah?”
“And Arielle left a while ago.”
“She left?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh,” he says, “Well... shall we smoke some pot?”
He goes into his closet and pulls out a small yellow bong. He got that bong as a gift for Christmas from his sister. She thought it would be funny to see their parents reaction. Their father didn't care much, but their mother condemned Fiona for encouraging it's use.
“Norah, since you are the newbie to these parts,” Calvin says, “I'll let you have greenies.”
“Well, aren't you a darling,” she says as she descends her mouth onto the bong. She takes a long, heavy rip and smoothly lets it out into the warm air in front of Doug. He isn't sure where this is on the list of sexiest things ever, but he can surely assume it's in the top ten.
“So are you guys gonna be in Battle of the Bands?” She asks.
“Uh...”
“I wasn't aware of any Battle of the Bands,” Doug admits.
“Oh well, a friend of mine signed his band up, and it's sponsored by the college and stuff,” she explains, “You guys should totally sign up, you definitely have a huge chance of winning.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, yeah, of course. Have you seen some of the bands around here? You guys could easily win. I mean, I think your only real challenge would be The Chinese Takeouts. They won last year. They're pretty good, but honestly I think you guys are better.”
“Well, thanks,” Doug says.
“You're welcome,” she says grinning at him.
“Hmm, that's actually a real good idea. I oughta tell Jones about that,” Calvin says as he brings the bong to his mouth, “Well, when he regains consciousness.”
They proceed to take several more hits out of the bong, until all members of the party are sufficiently high.
“Hey, you wanna know something funny about Calvin over here?” Doug says to Norah.
“What?”
“His full real name is Calvin Hobbes. Calvin Hobbes, dude.”
“Like the comic?”
“Dude. Fuck you, man,” Calvin says, “It's the worst name to have, like ever dude. You don't even fucking know man. But, um anyway, I think I'm gonna head on home. It was nice to meet you Norah.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Calvin Hobbes.”
“Hey, fuck you too,” he laughs, “Later dudes.”
As Calvin leaves the room, Doug proposes, “Wanna play some video games?”
“Oh, hell yes. I don't even really like video games. But when I'm high, oh lordy.”
They leave Doug's room and plant themselves on the couch, surrounded by the few party guests that stuck around. They begin playing and become very engrossed within the world of the game.
“Oh no, I got you! Oh what cheap bullshit, man! C'mon,” Doug yells playfully.
“Bitch, don't hate the player, hate the game.”
Eventually, Fiona sneaks up behind her, “Hey, Norah. It's time to go.”
“Oh c'mon, mom! One more minute!”
“Come on.”
“Alright, alright,” Norah says as she stands up, “Well it was great to finally meet you, Doug.” She gives him a hug.
“It was my pleasure, really,” he says as they release the hug, “Later Fiona.”
“Peace bro.”
As Norah leads out, Fiona gives Doug a satisfied smile.
FOUR
“Who?!”
“Professor Dog,” Blake says, “A coworker of mine is the drummer. Cool guy... yeah, they're pretty good.”
Penn gets a sharp look of concern on his face. He draws his eyes up and down the poster.
“Not good enough.”
“Well, I hope. It would be nice to win again.”
“Oh, don't be so pessimistic, Blake.”
“Oh jeez, I wish I had your undying optimism, Penn.”
“Shut it, Blake. So they're playing with us at Battle of the Bands this Saturday, huh?”
“Their name is on the poster,” Penny says.
Penn and Penny Hewlett are brother and sister. From a young age, they were both highly interested in music. Their parents signed them up for piano lessons and they both learned alarmingly quickly. By their teenage years, they could both easily read and write music. After they both finished college, they formed the Chinese Takeouts. Penn thought he was more worthy of playing the piano in the band than Penny, and Penn gets what he wants. So, Penny plays the tambourine and sings.
“They're playing up at the 24-Hour Coffee Shop on Friday at eight,” Blake informs, “You could go check them out if you really felt the need to.”
“I do really feel the need to,” Penn declares, “Now follow me. I have some shopping to do.” Penn begins walking down the street.
“Why do we always let him hang out with us?”
“I don't know,” Penny says, “He just always manages to come and it's not like I can tell him not to, hes my brother.”
Penn turns around, “Come on! Get a move on! I'm not living by your schedule!”
FIVE
“What?” Doug asks as he pours a cup of coffee for himself, spilling a bit on his apron, “What's that look for?”
“I saw you and that girl talking the other night,” Jones says with his eyebrows raised, “What's that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” Jones smirks.
“You mean Norah?”
“Is that her name?”
“Yeah, shes a friend of my sister,” Doug says as he hands Jones a cup of coffee over the counter.
“Is that it?”
“What?”
“Just a friend of you sister?” He laughs, “Not your mistress?”
“What? No!”
“Alright, alright,” he says before he takes a sip of his coffee, “Ooh, this is bitter.” He grabs a few creamers and begins unloading them into his cup. “I can tell you like her though.”
“Dude, how do you drink your coffee like that?”
“What? I like it like this! It goes down smoother, man. I don't get how you can drink it black, like all the goddamn time. I could never do it.”
A short, male customer walks in and Doug asks him, “Can I help you?”
“Um. One second,” he says as he scans his eyes across the menu on the wall. “Okay, yeah, can I get a medium iced vanilla latte.”
“Sure,” Doug says. Jones gives him a sly smile as he begins preparing the drink.
“Here you are,” Doug says politely, “Have a nice day.”
At the moment the man leaves, Jones asks, “Just how painful was that for you?”
“So, so, so very much,” he answers.
Doug loves coffee. I mean, he works at a coffee shop, what do you expect? But he only loves black coffee. His heart breaks into pieces every time a cute girl orders a drink with more foam than actual coffee because he knows he will never be able to find her attractive again.
“I really can tell you like her though, man.”
“Can you now?”
“Yes. I can,” he says, “Well... I gotta split, but I do hope something happens between you and that Norah girl. I really do, buddy.”
“Thanks, man, but where in the hell do you have to go?”
Jones is in between jobs, and is a tad notorious for all of his time being free.
“A man got shit to do!”
“What? You haven't masturbated to internet porn yet today?”
“Hey now, a man's internet history is his business and his business only. But yeah, I'll see you man. I might stop by later.”
“Farewell, my friend.”
SIX
“Oh god, why is she here?”
“Oh shit, I think she’s coming over here,” Evan informs him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Eve Portland, honestly, is kind of a bitch. Doug and Eve dated for a year and five months. They broke up three months ago. They met at a party, and she took his drunken virginity. Being a sentimental guy, he pursued her afterwards. They hit it off while sober, so they began seeing each other a lot. There were many mornings where Jones had to drink coffee with her and pretend he thought she was a decent person. Eventually though, Eve got bored. For about the last six months of their relationship, Eve was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend Warren. She told Doug that she was studying.
Then, she dumped him. In his mind, it was out of the blue.
It wasn’t until later that he found out that she had been cheating on him. Not to mention how badly she treated him throughout the actual relationship. She would demean him for being sensitive, tell him he wasn’t a real man, and then wait for him to say sorry.
And he would.
“Doug?”
“Oh, Eve,” Doug says as if he is happy and surprised.
“I was at the last show, but I couldn’t catch you. How are you?”
“I’m alright. Um, you?”
“I’m doing great. Just great.”
There is moment of silence that Eve breaks with, “Well, good luck up there. If you guys are as great as you were last time, I know I’ll enjoy it.
“Well, thanks.”
“Au revoir!” She says as she maneuvers her way back to her friends.
Evan’s face looks to be in utter pity when he says, “I’m so sorry for that, that just looked so painful.”
“You would be right about that.”
“Yeah, I’ve been going through a bit of women trouble myself,” he says, “C’mon, let’s vent to each other. Have a bit of man to man.” He leads Doug into a small room, empty except for a water cooler. Doug explains in detail what happened between Eve and him.
“Man, I just can’t understand it. Some women just have that ability to get under your skin and twist and twist and twist until you feel like being gay or dying are the only two solutions,” Evan says. He pours himself a cup of water. “Look, see, this is my little story,” he continues, “I started dating this girl a couple months ago, right? And I really liked her, she’s a real sweet girl. And she liked me too. But there was one problem. She just hates my music and thinks I’m never going to get anywhere with it. And this shits my life, man. It’s my life.
“So I’m like, alright, I’ll brush it off. I’ll try to ignore it. But every single fucking time my music is even mentioned in an offhand comment, she has to make fun of it in some way. She feels she has to advise me to get a ‘realistic’ profession…
“So last Friday, like noonish, she says she doesn’t want to drive me to the show because she doesn’t want to support my ‘hobby,” he refills his water, “So we get into a fight or whatever and I end up giving her an ultimatum: She’s either gonna have me and my music, or not have me at all. Obviously, you know which one she chose.”
He chugs down the water and refills it again.
“Fuck man,” Doug responds quietly.
“I mean, I’m not even too sad about it. It’s nice not to be fucking belittled every day.”
“…See this is the problem with some women. Only some women though, because what I fucking hate more than anything is the constant gender generalizations people spit out all fucking day long. But really, the problem with some women is that they don’t accept is for who we are. It’s that simple! We’re goddamn human beings with dense personalities and passions and values, and all I want is a sweet girl who is smart enough to really understand and respect that. That’s all I want.”
“Amen, buddy. Amen.”
Calvin swings open the door and asks with a straight face, “What are you two lovers doing in here?”
“Making sweet gay love,” Evan says, “What else?”
“We’re trying to start this show up, so we need you out there.”
“Ah, alright,” he says as he stands, “Nice talk, buddy.”
“Right back at you man,” Doug responds.
As Evan leaves towards the stage, and Doug soon follows out, they pass Penn, who is standing silently and wary amidst the audience. He desperately hopes that Professor Dog is not as good as they inevitably will be. Since his very young years, Penn has had a problem with his ego, his need for control, and his denial that there are people more smart and talented than him. In high school, he attempted an assassination of his classes’ Valedictorian because he was second in line for the title. This resulted in several years of therapy, which is one of the few perks of having a late birthday.
Along with Penn came the drummer and violinist of the Chinese Takeouts: Bennett Alan and Vale Myers, respectively.
“Greetings, everyone,” Barry says, “Thanks for coming out tonight. There are snacks and drinks in the back, and it would be great if you could buy something to help support local music and this here coffee shop. Thanks again, and without further ado, ladies and gentlemen: Evan Bonei.”
Evan walks on stage and smiles through his beard. “Hey everyone,” he says, “I’m Evan.”
“Ooh, this guys pretty hot, I must say,” Vale admits.
“Vale you just like anything with a penis,” Penn says.
“Honey, it sounded like you just described me,” Bennett says with a smile.
“Bennett, there are times when I really wish you had stayed in the closet.”
“Baby, don’t be jealous.”
Bennett didn’t realize he was gay until his sophomore year in high school. When he did, he was overjoyed. He realized many girls would want to be friends with him, and they did. He is also half-black and half-Japanese, which he thinks makes him the 'ultimate minority.'
Vale likes guys, too, arguably more than Bennett does. But something that is unarguable is that Vale has laid far more men than Bennett has. Vale believes that if she put in the effort, she could convince the Pope to sleep with her. She lives off of a trust fund set up by her wealthy businessman father, of whom implements Vales same theory of being able to close any deal with any business partner.
Evan finishes his set and earns a round of applause from the audience. Barry steps up to the microphone and says, “Thank you. I think I’ll let the next band introduce themselves. Come on up here.”
They walk on stage and plant themselves at their respective spots.
“Greetings folks,” Jones says.
“Oh my lord, who is that lovely man at the microphone?” Bennett asks as Jones introduces himself, “Jones, huh?”
“Oh my, Bennett. Has someone struck your fancy,” Vale asks.
“I think someone has.”
Penn butt in with, “Hey, I’m warning you two. Do not fraternize with the enemy. We are here for research purposes only.”
“I’d like to research him,” Bennett responds with a cat growl.
Jones finally says, “We are Professor Dog and this song is called Man’s Best Friend.”
“One! Two! Three! Four!” Calvin yells from his stool.
As the band plays, Penn comes to the terrifying realization that Professor Dog is good. Damn good. Not expecting this, a thousand thoughts run through his mind at once and he doesn’t truly regain consciousness until he notices the people around him clapping and cheering for Professor Dog after their fourth song.
“Stop clapping,” he demands of Bennett and Vale.
“Um, last time I checked, clapping never hurt anybody,” Bennett says with an attitude.
Unbeknownst to Doug as he played on stage, within the audience in front of him was his ex-girlfriend realizing for the first time in her life that she is attracted to women. Eve hadn’t noticed Vale all night up to that point, but after that point passed, she couldn’t think about anything else. Her curves, her seductively sharp face, her ass: nothing could distract Eve from these things right now. A phone call declaring her mother dead would only momentarily keep her mind away from those long, perfect legs and that short, sexy haircut.
In the back of her mind, she had realized, “Whoa, so I'm... gay?” But the front part of her mind was too occupied with images of nude women for her to dwell in that realization.
“Thanks, we're Professor Dog and you guys should all come out to the Luthor College Battle of the Bands tomorrow and cheer us on. Goodnight!”
As the band finishes and the audience is clapping, Penn realizes he must escape this torture for a few moments. He stomps off to the bathroom and claims himself a urinal.
What can he do now? This new band, Professor Dog, actually is real competition! He can't risk actually competing them in Battle of the Bands! That means he can lose!
His thoughts are interrupted when someone enters the bathroom. In the urinal next to him, unbuttoning his pants, is Doug.
“Oh god, I had to get out of there,” Doug says, “I could not risk having to talk to that ex-girlfriend of mine again.”
“Yeah I know how it feels man,” Penn says sympathetically. He has no clue how it feels, but figures befriending the enemy may be an intelligent tactic.
Penn breaks the bathroom silence with, “Hey. Good luck tomorrow, man.”
“Oh thanks,” Doug says, “Are you gonna make it out there?”
“Yeah,” Penn says, “I'm in one of the other bands.”
“Oh, ha, sorry. I didn't recognize you. Which band?”
“The Chinese Takeouts,” he says as he zips up his pants, “We won last year.”
“Oh. Um, well, good luck to you, too,” Doug says, feeling a bit intimidated, as Penn exits the bathroom without saying another word. As Penn walks back to his band members, he gets a spark of inspiration.
A band can't play without their instruments, can they?
SEVEN
Unfortunately, Calvin's van wasn't very much of a burglar deterrent: Specifically because he did not lock his doors. Also, being that they were playing Battle of the Bands just the next night, they didn't see much reason to unload their equipment. These two facts resulted in Penn's sinister plan becoming more than a dream and Calvin's van full of instruments being driven down the road towards Penn's tiny apartment.
Penn essentially lives in the space that the city wasn't too sure what to do with. In front of two large apartment buildings is a small grassy hill, and instead of it being used in the winter by shiny-eyed children, there is an archaic iron door leading into a small musty apartment containing Penn. To even further the pity, it isn't even actually his apartment. It was originally Blake's apartment, and when Penny moved in with Blake, Penn just sort of followed and has been sleeping on the couch ever since.
At this moment, despite his living conditions, Penn is happy. For the second year in a row, he would win Battle of the Bands. This would be his big break! No more sleeping on his sister's boyfriend's couch for him. After all of the record executives discover him, he would be able to afford his own couch to sleep on. The world is in the palm of his hands!
“Yo Nick,” Calvin addresses to his brother through the bedroom door, “You tryin’ to wake and bake?”
Nick and Calvin are very much alike. The main differences are that Calvin has a bit of musical talent and Nick has a much less embarrassing name.
“Yeah,” Nick yells drowsily, “Five minutes! Put on some coffee…”
The Hobbes’ brothers live in a single story suburban town house that one would much more likely expect a preschool teacher to inhabit. After starting the coffee machine, Calvin begins packing his bong in the living room on the coffee table. He turns on the TV, and as if the planets were aligning, the Magic School Bus has just begun. He rests on his knees on the green carpet, and attempts to light his bong. As he finally gets it lit, his eyes draw up and out of the window into his empty driveway.
“Nick” Calvin tries to yell as he blows the remaining smoke out of his lungs, “Hey Nick!”
“What!?” Nick yells in tired frustration.
“Do you know where the van is?”
“The fucking driveway Calvin, it’s in the driveway!”
“It’s not in the driveway, Nick,” Calvin informs with a raised voice.
Nick walks out of his bedroom half-asleep and wipes his eyes. He walks over and stands behind Calvin, his eyes, also through the window, on the completely vacant driveway.
“I knew I should've stayed home today!” Arnold whines from across the room.
EIGHT
“So, your vans been stolen, yes?”
“It looks that way.”
“So, our instruments have been stolen?”
“Yeah.”
“So, we can’t play tonight?”
“I guess.”
“God fucking dammit.”
Obviously, Jones wasn’t taking the news too well. Calvin expected just as much, though. Ever since the band formed, Jones had been the real heart and spirit of Professor Dog. If anyone in the band could ever be considered the titular dog, it would him.
“Have you filed a police report yet?”
“Not yet.”
Calvin is the only member of the band with his own car. Therefore, not only have they lost all of their instruments, but also their only real form of transportation.
“I’ve still got a nice big bag of weed though,” Calvin says, attempting to be optimistic.
“Ah. Well, that’s always good,” Jones says, “Um, maybe we can all meet up at the coffee shop and figure something out.”
“That’s like a two-mile walk.”
“Suck it up.”
“Gah, alright.”
“See you there.”
Jones hangs up his cell phone and knocks on Doug’s door.
“Hey, Doug. You up?”
“What’s up?”
“Put on some clothes. We have to walk to the coffee shop.”
“Wait, what? Why?”
“I’ll explain in a second once you get out here.”
As Jones is tying his shoes, Doug walks out of his room. He buttons up his brown short-sleeved shirt.
“So, what’s up?”
“Calvin’s van was stolen. So our instruments are gone.”
“What?! Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“So, like… we can’t play at Battle?”
“Uh, I guess not. I mean, we’re all meeting at the coffee shop to see what we can figure out.”
“Does Arielle know yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll call her,” Doug says as he pulls out his phone.
NINE
“I should go to the police station blazed more often,” Calvin says as they sit down at a table, “Ooh, I’m gonna buy a muffin.”
“Wait, what? You smoked before you came?” Doug asks with disapproval.
“He’s Calvin,” Arielle says as they stand back up and follow Calvin to the register.
“Oh, that’s right,” Doug says, “Hey Sarah. Is Barry here?”
“Uh, yeah. I think he’s in the back,” his coworker answers. As Doug walks behind the counter, Calvin grabs a chocolate chip muffin and asks, “Can I get this muffin? Would that be at all possible?”
With a chuckle, Sarah answers, “Yeah, I think that would be fairly possible.”
Doug opens the door in the back to reveal Barry filling out paperwork.
“Hey Barry, some shit went down.”
“…What kind of shit?”
“Calvin’s car was stolen along with all of our instruments.”
“Are you guys going to be able to play next weekend?”
“I don’t know,” Doug answers with sincere uncertainty, “But, um, right now I’ve got everyone here and we’re just wondering what to do. I don’t think we can really do anything about the van right now, we sort of just have to wait. But, uh, Battle of the Bands is tonight and we don’t have instruments to be able to play.”
“Do you think you could find some?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alright, let me talk to everyone,” Barry says. He follows Doug out to see Sarah and Calvin still conversing.
“So your van was stolen?” Sarah asks as if she is actually interested.
“Yep, with all of my bands instruments in it.”
“That’s wild.”
“I know,” Calvin says, pretending to have swagger, “I know.”
Doug puts his hand on Calvin’s shoulder and says, “C’mon buddy, we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Alright. Well, it was nice to meet you Sarah,” he says with a smile.
“My pleasure,” she flirts.
“Also, can I get a coffee Sarah?” Doug asks.
“Sure you can Doug,” Sarah responds blandly as she grabs a cup, “Medium, right?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
They take a seat at a circular table, along with Arielle and Jones.
“So, Arielle, do you have a guitar?” Barry asks, obviously taking control of the situation.
“I’ve got several.”
“So, you’ve got one for Doug, too?”
“Oh, certainly,” Arielle says, sneaking a smirk at Doug.
“Jones, do you have a bass guitar?”
“Um, actually, no,” he responds with guilt.
“Okay. Do any of you know where we could find a bass?”
It is silent for a few moments until Doug hesitates and says, “…I do. I could get us a bass.”
“Alright, great,” Barry says with an honest, fresh smile. “What about you Calvin? Can we find a drum set?”
“Huh? Um, I don’t think so. I don’t know anyone.”
“Are you high?”
“No. Yes. Only a little. That muffin brought it down a bit.”
“Alright, well, do any of us know somewhere that we could find a drum set?”
Jones speaks up. “Well, I mean, I could get us a drum set. It would take me six hours though.”
“How so?”
“Well, my brothers got one, but my house is like three hours away.”
“That would be cutting it real close,” Barry says, referring to the show being six and a half hours away. “But if that’s out only option…”
“Um,” Jones says with shame, “I also would need a car to drive.”
“Uh... You can borrow mine,” Barry offers after some thought, “Yeah, you can borrow mine. Here are the keys. It’s the green Honda in the front. Just keep the tank full.”
“Thank you so very much Barry,” Jones says, “You’re a good guy.”
“Yeah you are dude,” Calvin says.
“I do what I can,” Barry says humbly, “Well, I’m going to get back to work. Good luck tonight fellows.”
“Thanks Barry. Later,” Doug says.
Jones stands up. “Well, um, I guess I’ll see you guys in six hours,” he laughs as he walks through the door, “See you all tonight.”
They say their farewells to Jones and are left sitting with nothing to do.
“So… we’ve got six hours to kill,” Calvin proposes, “You kids trying to smoke some pot?”
“Um yeah. Wait, damn,” Doug says walking towards the counter, “I forgot my coffee!” He grabs his coffee, says thanks to Sarah, and meets Arielle and Calvin on their way out the door.
“Oh god, I’m so glad we’re going to smoke some weed,” Doug says, “I really need to for what I’m about to do.”
“What do you mean?” Arielle asks.
“You know how I said I could find us a bass?”
“Yeah…?”
“Guess who from.”
TEN
“Dude, this is wild!” Calvin says, “How in the fuck are you gonna just go and call your ex-girlfriend for a favor when you are baked out of your mind? Because if you have taken as many rips as I have, you should be baked out of your mind right now.”
“I am, but that’s the point,” Doug explains, “You think I could handle this shit sober? Answer: No. I couldn’t. That would be awful.”
“I’m high,” Arielle says with her arms wrapped around her knees.
“I know you are, Arielle. I know you are.”
“Shh, it’s ringing,” Doug says with the phone to his ear.
“Like I’m really, really high,” Arielle reassures them.
“Shh!”
“Oh god, this is so tense,” Calvin says, “She can pick up at any moment!”
A few moments pass. “I got her voicemail.”
“Well, that was anticlimactic.”
“I am so, so, so high.”
“Hey Eve,” Doug says into the phone, “It’s Doug. I just called to ask you a pretty important question. So call me back. Later.” He closes his phone. “Hopefully she gets that. Or, you know, we’re screwed.”
“Well,” Calvin says, “In the meantime, you tryin’ to pack this thing up again?”
“Ooh, I don’t know dude.”
“C’mon. You’re in the presence of a professional.”
“Ahh… alright.”
Calvin begins packing the bowl of the bong with marijuana. “I don’t think you should be taking any more hits, Arielle,” he says, “I think you’re high enough.” He laughs and she gives him a look of intense disapproval.
“I will murder you,” she says.
“Woah. Hey, alright, alright. I’ll let you take a few more rips.”
Calvin walks to the kitchen and grabs his two guests’ sodas. Arielle takes the first hit off of the bong.
“Oh, that was nice,” she says as smoke drifts out of her mouth.
“My turn,” Doug says as he turns the bong and grabs the lighter. He lights the bowl and smoke begins filling the bong up. He pulls out the bowl and inhales the smoke as his phone begins to ring.
“Oh shit,” Doug says with a smoke muffled voice.
“Is it her!?” Calvin asks.
Doug flips the phone open and releases the trapped smoke from his lungs. “Hello?” he says.
“Hey Doug, sorry, I was in the shower. What do you need?”
“Um, could you do me a favor?”
“… Sure.”
Meanwhile, Calvin takes and hit and starts coughing loudly. Doug covers the phone and says, “SHH!”
Doug continues with, “So you said you liked my band, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, Calvin’s van full of all of our instruments was stolen last night. And the only instrument we couldn’t find to replace them at Battle of the Bands is the bass guitar.”
“Oh.”
“So, I wanted to ask you if I could borrow your bass. Just for tonight.”
“Oh- Doug… I’m sorry. I would, but I gave that bass to my cousin for his birthday. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, well… yeah, it’s fine.”
“Good luck on finding one though!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And I’ll be there to cheer you on tonight.”
“Sure, alright, thanks. Yeah, later.”
“Um, bye…”
Doug closes the phone.
“Are we fucked?” Calvin asks.
“We’re fucked.”
ELEVEN
“Damn,” Calvin says, “This is really depressing. We actually will not be able to play tonight.”
Arielle frowns and takes a sip of her soda.
“Well, I might as well call up Jones and tell him just to head on back. Don’t want him to have to waste his money.”
Calvin opens his phone and begins scrolling down his contact list.
“Wait,” Doug says, locking eyes with Calvin, “I have one last idea.” Doug walks over to and sits in the computer chair. “You’ve got the internet, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s slow, but it still works.”
“Now, I’m only doing this because it’s our last resort. I normally would never stoop this low, but I’m going to update my myspace and facebook and ask people if they have a bass. One of my acquaintances must have a bass guitar,” Doug says as he quickly types. After he finishes, he spins around in the chair and says, “Now, we wait.”
They pass the time by watching television and playing old video games. Eventually, Doug walks back over to the computer and sits down. A few minutes later he aggressively says, “That bitch!”
“What?”
“Kara told me on facebook to ask Eve to borrow hers. So I told her that I thought she did not have it anymore. Turns out Kara just played with Eve yesterday. That bitch has the bass and just doesn’t want to let me borrow it. What a fucking bitch, dude. You don’t know how happy I am that I don’t have to deal with her day to day anymore. God damn.”
“Dude, but did anyone offer to let us borrow their bass?”
“Huh?” Doug says, obviously distracted from his real mission, “Oh. Let me check.”
Doug leans over the computer and scrolls down a page.
“So, are we good?”
“Um…” Doug says slowly, “Yeah. Fiona says her friend will let her borrow his, which means we can borrow it.”
“So, we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
“Yay!” Arielle cheers with a smile.
TWELVE
“Give him a call,” Arielle suggests.
“I already tried. It went straight to voicemail.”
“I think we're fine. We've still got like a half-hour after the show starts, right?”
“Yeah...” Doug says as his mind wanders. He turns and gets the attention of the stage manager.
“Hey is the show starting soon?”
“Five minutes,” the short blonde woman says with five fingers extended.
“And we're on fourth, right? We're Professor Dog.”
“Yes, I believe so,” she says as she looks through a notebook, “Yes. You are on fourth.”
“Um, okay, thank you. Is there anywhere here where I could get some coffee?”
“Not in here, but if you go outside and take a right, there's a Starbucks right down the street.”
“Thanks,” Doug says as he turns back towards Arielle. “Alright, um, you trying to walk with me to Starbucks?”
“Sure,” she says as a grin grows on here face, “I'll get a hot chocolate! Mmm.”
Doug laughs to himself as they begin to walk. When they make it outside, Doug asks, “Do you have cigarettes?”
“I only have three left,” she says as she takes the pack out of her pocket.
“Oh alright, I understand...”
“No! I mean, you can have one!” She says as she hands one to him. “Just as long as I get the last one.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you,” he says, searching his pockets. “You got a light?”
She lights his cigarette, and then proceeds to light her own.
“So, are you seriously going to drink Starbucks coffee?”
“Oh god. I have to!” He takes a drag. “When I smoke during the day, I get all tired after it starts wearing off. And I'm trying to play at like my peak of awareness.”
“Oh. Okay, okay... but still, it's Starbucks.”
“Oh, I know!” Doug blurts out as Arielle giggles at him.
Doug exhales smoke into the air above them, and asks, “So, anything new in the world of Katherine Arielle?”
“Eh... not really,” she says as she thinks about the question. “Well, my brother got married.”
“Yeah?”
“It's actually a pretty funny story,” she says with a sarcastic smile, “He met this girl at a party last week, and the next day they got married in Vegas. Yeah.”
“Wow!”
“This is not a bad sitcom or anything, my brother seriously eloped to Las Vegas. He's like a cartoon character!”
“How did your parents feel about that?” Doug says, expecting a negative response.
“Honestly, it seemed like they were completely and totally fine with it. They seemed to like the idea of their kids getting married. No matter the circumstances or person their actually marrying.” She takes a long drag and continues, “Now, with like fucking grandkids on the mind, they keep asking me if I plan on getting married soon! 'How's your love life, Katherine? Any special men in your life?”
“And what did you tell them?”
Arielle was caught off guard. “Well... I mean, I'm not dating anyone or anything. I mean, you know.”
“So that means there are no special men in your life?”
“Well... I mean, I kinda have a thing for this one guy, but, I mean-”
“Oh! Uh oh, Arielle. Who's this lucky fellow?”
“Nah, it's nothing.”
“C'mon!”
“Eh, it's nobody. Nobody.”
“Is it someone I know?”
“Um... no. It's nobody you know.”
As Doug takes one of the remaining drags off of his cigarette, Arielle cuts in before he can respond:
“Um, do you wanna go get that coffee now, so we don't miss any of the show?”
“Um, sure,” Doug says as he takes a long drag, and then stomps on his cigarette.
Arielle puts out her cigarette the moment before they enter Starbucks, nearly forgetting she had it in her hand.
“You know,” Doug says as he holds the door open for her, “I've never had someone be a dick to me about the Starbucks size thing. They always understand what I mean when I say medium. Like sure, the size thing is still ridiculous: Tall equals small? Okay, that makes a lot of sense.”
Arielle laughs and says, “The real criminals are the people who still make jokes about it and think they are original and funny.”
Doug laughs as they walk up to the register. “Too true. So what did you want again?,” he asks, “A hot chocolate?”
“Ooh, yes, yes. I love me some hot chocolate,” she says as she pulls out her wallet.
“One medium black coffee and one medium hot chocolate, please,” Doug requests of the gangly clerk.
“Here you go,” Arielle says, attempting to hand Doug money.
“Oh, no. I've got this. It's fine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, don't worry about it. 'Tis a mere hot chocolate.”
He hands the clerk his money and gets the change back. They stand around and ramble on a bit more, waiting for their drinks to be made.
“So, do you really see this band going somewhere? Like, do you think we could actually put out records and tour and stuff?” Doug asks on a serious note.
“You know. I do. I think we could do it.”
“I do, too. I do, too.”
They grab their drinks and head back to the show. When they arrive, it has just begun. They take a seat in the audience and after the first two bands play, they begin to get worried. Not because the bands are any good, but because when they head back to the wings, Jones still hasn't arrived. Having not seen Calvin in a hot minute, Doug calls him.
“Hey Calvin!”
“What up,” he blurts with a cough.
“Um, where are you?”
“I've been, uh, waiting in the back for Jones. So, I can help him unload the drums when he gets here.”
“Ah, alright. Good idea. We're inside in the wings, essentially praying that we won't have to stall the audience at all.”
“Hopefully you won't. Well, peace dude.”
“Later,” Doug says, hanging up the phone.
“Where's he?” Arielle asks.
“Smoking weed out back.”
Doug laughs. As the band finishes playing, and carries their equipment offstage to the opposite wing, The Chinese Takeouts walk up behind the two.
“Oh! Blake, hey!” Doug says, “What's up?”
“Hello,” Penn manages to say smugly.
“What's goin' on dude?” Blake says.
“Hey, um, I actually didn't catch your name,” Doug says, slightly embarrassed.
“Penn Hewlett. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” They shake hands.
“I'm Doug,” he says with a smile.
“I know,” Penn arrogantly informs.
Doug introduces himself and Arielle to the other three members of The Chinese Takeouts.
“Where is that lead singer of yours?” Bennett asks, “Jones is his name, I believe.”
“Well, actually it's a long story. Someone stole Calvin's van, containing all of our instruments.” Penn attempts to control the smirk on his face. “So, now Calvin is waiting out back for Jones to deliver the drum set, which is the only instrument that was difficult at all to get.” Penns smirk dissipates.
“Well, you guys are on after us,” Blake says, “So, Jones better hurry up, you know.”
“Believe me, I know,” Doug says with pain in his voice. “Just, hopefully he will get here.”
“Yeah, hopefully!” Penn spontaneously says, forgetting to try and hide the sarcasm.
“Um... yeah. Hopefully,” Doug says.
The Chinese Takeouts are introduced and set up their equipment. Penn walks out to his keyboard with his chest out. Standing up straight, his face inches away from the microphone, he announces:
“Good evening, folks. I'm Penn Hewlett, and this is my band: The Chinese Takeouts. This first song is a song I wrote about a year ago about my experiences in high school, and it's called 'Mosquitoes.' One, two, three, four!”
A few moments after they begin playing, Doug realizes why Norah had described them as competition.
They're good: Damn good.
After they play their final song, they earn a large round of applause. Penn stands in the middle of the stage, a slight smile on his face, as every clap from the audience in front of him is, to his ego, like another drop of water on a blooming flower. Unfortunately, only a few feet away, Doug and Arielle stand frozen, panicked that Jones has still not entered the doors behind them. They are completely and totally helpless to this situation that has been thrown in front of them. The Chinese Takeouts finish taking their equipment offstage, and Doug's head is clogged. He has no clue what action to take from here. When the host enters from the opposite wing and introduces Professor Dog, he is quite unaware that, at the moment, they are unable to play. So, Doug has no choice. When the host walks off stage, Doug leaves the wing and steps up to the microphone.
“Hey guys,” Doug says, forcing a smile, “This is a little thing I do before our shows. So, uh, yeah.”
You know, Doug actually is pretty funny.
“So what's with Starbucks coffee sizes? I'm kidding. Seriously, I'm not that guy! See, you know what's funnier than Starbucks coffee sizes? The penis sizes of the guys still telling that same joke.”
The audience actually laughs. After that first positive response, Doug begins to think that he really could be a comedian. Not that he really wants to, though.
“I asked them for a small coffee and they tell me I'm getting a tall!” Doug mocks into the microphone, “No, you're a virgin. You don't have friends. I doubt your parents even let you drink coffee because it's makes you too hyper you unoriginal, obnoxious little fuck.”
He earns a big laugh out of the audience.
“So you know that terrible movie/sitcom cliché? The one about driving to Las Vegas and getting married? Yeah. Pretty ridiculous, right? Did you know that people actually do that? Really. Just imagine going through that process. Drive a few hours, gamble a bit, make one of the most important commitments of your life, get a bite to eat. Possibly T.G.I. Fridays.”
As Doug tells this joke, Jones and Calvin rush into the wings with parts of the drum set in their hands. They rush back down with Arielle to retrieve the final parts.
“Hey, well, thanks everyone. That was my little attempt at humor. So, thanks. I think we're gonna set up now.”
Doug walks offstage and begins carrying equipment and hooking it up on stage. As he walks to grab his guitar, he runs into Jones as he rushes up the final pieces of the drum set.
“Thank god you're here.”
“Fuck god, thank speeding.”
After they set up all of their instruments, Jones gets a large grin on his face. He steps up to the microphone and says, “Hello everyone, I'm Jones. This is Doug, Arielle, and Calvin. Um, I'd just like to say a few things before we play. For one, thank you all so much for coming out here tonight, it really means a lot. Also, I'm just so glad to be here, with all of you. We could barely make it out here tonight and I'm just so happy we actually did. So, really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
As the audience gives them applause, Jones looks back at the rest of the band, with a wide smile on his face, and nods.
“This is a song called Biking for Miles at a Time.”
“One! Two! Three! Four!”
THIRTEEN
Penn has a completely disgusted look on his face as he watches Professor Dog play. He didn't think they were going to care enough to get other instruments. He thought they would be too worried about the lost car and instruments to care at all about Battle of the Bands. He didn't think they really cared that much about the music. Unfortunately for him, he was wrong.
Penn still managed to stay positive, although his plan went awry. As powerfully as his mind could, he hoped that they would still win. “I mean, The Chinese Takeouts are just the better band, right?” This is the thought Penn tenaciously clutched to keep his sanity.
Despite their unfamiliar instruments, Professor Dog is playing well: Damn well.
“Thank you!” Jones yells to the audience. “We're Professor Dog! Come see us at the 24-Hour Coffee Shop every Friday night at eight! Goodnight!”
The audience cheers as they proudly carry their equipment into the wings. After they clear the stage, the host announces the last band.
“Oh jesus,” Doug says, “You don't understand how happy I am that you got here when you did.”
“I'm just as happy as you are, buddy,” Jones says as he sits down a piece of the drum set.
“Oh man, fuck yes!” Doug says, unable to control his satisfaction. “We seriously did it. We did it. Hell yes, motherfucker!”
“You happy, Doug?” Arielle asks with a bit of a laugh in her voice.
“Yeah man, you seem a bit happy.” Calvin adds.
“Thats because I fucking am, dude! Yes! Jesus fuck, man!”
“Jesus fuck? Really?”
They carry their equipment back out to Barry's car and light up several cigarettes. Leaning against the car, Jones says:
“My parents were all, 'You never come to visit and now that you're finally here, you just want to leave as soon as you possibly can.' And I'm just like shit, man! I really gotta go! But they just would not take no for an answer. I explained the situation completely to them, but they couldn't seem to grasp the concept that I needed to be here to perform tonight. Good thing I'm real good at outspeeding cops, or I never would have made it in time.”
“Technically, you didn't make it in time,” Doug corrects, “Technically, I had to go out on stage and stall the audience with some stand-up comedy before you made it here.”
“Well, technically, I win this argument automatically because I was the one who said you should be a comedian. And don't even try to say you would have thought of doing it anyways,” Calvin concludes in an attempt to take credit for their success.
Arielle drags on her cigarette and asks, “So, do you guys think that we're going to win?”
“Probably.”
“Hopefully.”
“Definitely,” Jones says.
After they put out their cigarettes, they arrive back inside to see the final band's last few songs. Calvin, while listening to this awful band, realizes how they actually do reign over the local music scene, and earns a bit of arrogance from it.
Penn sits quietly in the back until the final band concludes their set. His mind is filled with reassuring thoughts that, sadly, are not at all based in fact. The stage is empty and silent for a few moments after the final band has cleared the stage. Tension is in the air throughout the auditorium, but mostly concentrated to the row Penn is seated in. The host soon slowly walks out to the microphone.
“Hello everyone,” he says, “Thank you very much for heading out here tonight to support the college and our thriving music scene. Can I get another round of applause for all of the great bands that played tonight? Yeah!”
The audience does what they are told, and slaps their hands together like a seal taught to put on a good show.
“Cross your fingers!” Arielle declares positively to her band members.
The host crouches down to the furthest downstage spot. He receives three envelopes from the judges below him.
“Are you all ready to hear the winners of the sixteenth annual Luthor College Battle of the Bands?” Scattered cheers and applause shoot out of the audience. “Alright the third place winner is...
“The Postage Stamps!”
Two bearded men in matching attire, yellow suits with purple shoes, march up onto the stage and are handed a check.
“I give you a thousand thank yous,” one of them says in an odd accent.
The other blows a kiss to the audience and says, “Yes, thank you all so very much. Goodnight, all.”
They plant themselves to the left side of the stage and earn a bit of applause, to which the two respond with smiles and several more blown kisses.
“Another round of applause for the Postage Stamps!”
How much applause does one third place band really need? Okay, that was rude. I apologize. They were actually pretty good. At least, Doug thinks so.
After the audience quiets down the judge opens up the next envelope.
“Okay. Now, our second place winner is...
“The Chinese Takeouts!”
The words drift in and out of Penn's ears for a few moments. As his fellow band members walk onto the stage to be given their prize money, Penn leaves out of the auditorium's front doors. Noticing his odd departure, Doug follows him out. As Doug walks out through the doors, he notices Penn already sitting silently against the bricks of the building, smoking a cigarette.
“Hey man. Are you alright? Why aren't you up there with the rest of your band?”
“Because-” Penn hesitates and takes another long drag off of his cigarette. Doug stands staring at him, awaiting a response, as Penn looks straight across the street.
“Because I'm not fucking number two, man.” Penn begins to tear up. “Because I fucking work and work and work and still don't ever fucking win. I never fucking get the position I really deserve! If I always try as hard as I goddamn can, and still don't fucking get first place, what does that say about my damn worth? What the fuck does that say about my value as a human being?”
Shaking a tad violently, Penn brings the cigarette to his lips with the intent to smoke it, but accidentally drops it to his lap.
“Fuck!” He yells as he retrieves his cigarette and stands up, in a failed attempt to stay calm. “God fucking dammit! Augh!” He wipes away the continuously streaming tears from his cheeks. He grunts and takes a drag off of his cigarette.
“Everything is alright, man. You tried your best, that's all that matters, dude. Winning really is not everything,” Doug says in a futile attempt to comfort him.
“Easy for you to say, man...” Penn sighs, “You probably just fucking won first place.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you guys are way too fucking good,” Penn unintentionally compliments. “Because you guys are like the only band that comes close to as good as us. If we got second, the only band at all really deserving of first, would be you guys.”
“Well... thanks.”
“But, for the record, we should of won.”
Doug quietly laughs to himself. Penn momentarily feels a hint of guilt for stealing their van, but this soon dissipates after Doug asks for a drag off of his cigarette, and Penn feels as if it is an equal trade off. A few moments later, Penn stomps out the cigarette.
“You want to go inside now?”
“...Sure.”
As they step inside, Doug realizes that was right: they had won. The other members of Professor Dog are standing on the stage with smiles on their faces, as Jones is handed a check for two-hundred dollars. Doug jogs up to the stage and joins his band members.
“Sorry, I just needed some air,” Doug says to his friends as an honest smile arises on his face.
Still standing by the doors in the back of the auditorium, even Penns red, wet face nearly forms a smile.
FOURTEEN
“Did you hear,” Jones asks, “That Calvin’s van just appeared back in his driveway last night?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, man,” Jones says as he swallows the remaining rice crispies he had wallowing in his mouth. “With everything in it. All of the instruments, everything. He even had a few dollars in a cup in the front, and it was untouched.”
Doug throws away the teabag that was soaking in his mug of hot water and grabs a package of vegan tea cookies.
“So what do you think happened? Someone just go on a joyride and return it in the middle of the night?”
“No clue, but he said that whoever took it actually filled up the tank before returning it.”
“That’s so weird, man,” Doug says, taking a bite of a cookie. He rests his feet on the old locked chest and turns on the television, to a channel showing nonstop cartoons, a genre of which Doug feels is the highest of artful quality.
“You working today?” Jones asks.
“Nah.”
“You wanna walk around the city a bit?”
“Uh, I would,” Doug says, “But I’m going to this gallery downtown to see that Norah girl’s paintings.”
“So, you mean you’re going downtown to see that Norah girl?”
Doug smiles. “Yeah. Sure.”
Jones drinks the remaining milk out of his bowl. “Do you know whether Calvin or Arielle are working?”
“Um, I think Calvin is working. Yeah, Calvin’s working. No clue about Arielle, though,” Doug says while dipping one of the vegan cookies in his tea.
“Alright, I’ll call her up,” he says after clearing his bowl of milk. “Wait- ew, dude. You dip those in your tea?”
“They’re tea cookies!”
“That means you’re supposed to eat them with tea, not soak them in it.”
“Whatever, dude. It all goes to the same place.”
“Thanksgiving dinner all goes to the same place, too. That doesn’t mean I want to stuff my turkey with pumpkin pie.”
“But you do want to stuff your turkey with stuffing?”
“That’s why it’s called stuffing!”
“And that’s why they’re called tea cookies.”
“Alright,” Jones says sarcastically.
“That’s all I’m saying, man. All I’m saying.”
Jones calls Arielle, and finds that she isn’t working and is, in actuality, at home. He makes plans with her and leaves only minutes before Doug.
“Later, buddy! I’ll see you tonight,” Jones yells to Doug, as he brushes his teeth.
“Later,” Doug mumbles loudly through his toothpaste filled mouth, nearly swallowing some.
Doug wanders around the downtown area trying to find the art gallery that he’d only been to once before. Eventually, he does find it and as he walks in, he is bombarded with thousands of different visual orgasms coming from all directions. For a few minutes, he peruses around the gallery, until he finds the spot Norah has taken.
“Hey there,” Doug says as he approaches her.
“Oh, hey! How are you, Doug?”
Norah is wearing a red vest with a white v-neck on beneath it. She is, also, wearing a black skirt, that ends approximately at her knees. Doug thinks she looks absolutely striking.
“I’m doing good, you?”
“Great, great.”
They just ogle each other for a few moments.
“So, um, how did you guys do at Battle of the Bands? I couldn’t make it out last night, I had work.”
“Actually, there’s a pretty long story to that.” Doug explains the rest of the story in detail to her, which I will leave out for your pleasure. “… And we won! We got first place, after all that. It was wonderful.”
“Aw! I’m so happy for you. You guys really deserved it.”
“So are these, uh, your paintings?”
“Oh! Yes, yes they are. They’re all for sale from five to a hundred dollars. I’m trying to keep a good range so maybe I can at least sell one,” Norah says hopefully.
“Well, they’re all really great. Really. Like some of this stuff is just amazing.”
“Well, thank you,” she says, not sounding very thanked. “I’m glad you could make it out here.”
“Oh, no problem. Like I have anything better to do,” Doug says with a laugh.
“So you’re just here because you have nothing better to do?” She says, seeming to seriously consider the possibility.
“No, no, of course not. I’m here to see these wonderful paintings… and you.”
She smiles. “Well, I’m glad I wasn’t just you’re default plan for the day.”
Doug hesitates, smiles, and then just says, “Yeah.”
Meanwhile, Jones had been hanging out with Arielle in her small apartment, with her roommate Ramona.
“Wait, so that’s who you keep talking about?” Ramona asks.
“Well, I mean-”
“Yeah, it totally is,” Jones insists.
Ramona is fashionable and frugal, and doesn’t give a fuck. She grew up in the slums of New York, and tries to use this fact as an excuse for her rudeness. She listens to an extreme amount of punk music constantly, and hates anything made before 1980. She once had sex with the guy from the New York Dolls. She doesn’t quite remember which. Under all of her layers though, she is quite a sweetheart.
“Aw, you guys would make such a cute couple,” Ramona says truthfully with a smile.
“Well… thank you,” Arielle says, feeling quite embarrassed that people around her are speaking of her failed love life.
“Either of you want a beer?” Ramona asks, already on her way to the kitchen.
“I’ll take one,” Jones says.
“Arielle?”
“No, I’m not really feeling like getting a buzz on right now.”
As Ramona hands a beer to Jones, she announces, “So our little Katherine Arielle is in love with Doug Bowers. Wow.”
“What do you mean, ‘Wow?’”
“Doug’s just such a goofy dude,” Ramona says after taking a large swig of her beer. “It’s just adorable that he’s the guy you talk about all the time.”
“Hmm…”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Jones says with smile, “Absolutely wonderful. I just wish Doug could notice it.”
“You could tell him, you know?” Ramona suggests to Jones.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” Arielle quickly says.
“You mean, you don’t want him to do it,” Ramona says with a smirk.
“Well… yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” Arielle says, pushing her head down into her bent knees, “You know, I think I will take one of those beers.”
“Atta girl,” Ramona says, heading into the kitchen.
“I do wish he noticed it though,” Arielle says to Jones, “He just always seems to be chasing some other girl, and whenever I try to talk to him… I don’t know. It just seems like it will never happen.”
“Now don’t talk like that, it’s Doug we’re talking about. We know he loves you!”
“Yeah, as a friend.”
Jones frowns and takes a sip of his beer.
“Here you go,” Ramona says, handing the beer to Arielle.
“Where is Doug today, anyway?” Arielle asks.
“Um,” Jones hesitates, “Working.”
“Yeah? Maybe we should go get some coffee later than.” Arielle twists open her beer.
“I could go for some coffee!” Ramona adds.
“Uh… okay. Actually, you just caught me in a lie,” Jones admits sadly, “He’s out seeing a girl.”
“Oh…” Arielle tries to act unaffected. “Is it that tall girl from the party the other night?”
“Yeah.”
Ramona cracks herself open another beer and Arielle quickly sips down half of her own.
“I sometimes kinda wish I could just be like you, Jones,” Arielle says.
“How so?”
“You’re all just completely happy not being in love, hell, not even being attracted to anyone. I just wish I didn’t have to just have so many… feelings. All the time.”
“Believe me,” Jones says, “You don’t want that. That’s the thing about my life that makes me the least happy, Arielle. Seriously, you do not want that.”
A few silent moments pass.
“Hey now! I’m tired of this negative talk,” Ramona says, “Now I’ve got a few old Jim Carrey movies and by golly, we’re going to watch them and you are going to goddamn laugh, Arielle. Alright?” Ramona stares at Arielle with a straight face. “Alright!?”
Arielle laughs. “Okay, alright!”
“You, too, Jones!”
“Haha, I’m fine with that.”
“Alright. Good, than,” Ramona says, “I didn’t steal this big screen TV from my ex-boyfriend for nothing.”
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So I just read over all of what you've posted thus far.
And I like it, even though they spend so much time getting stoned it is easy to forget there's a plot sometimes.
Very character-driven, but I like it like that.
