How it Happened is Irrelevant (Mabbell)

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A/n: it's 2014, we're on the bury the hatchet tour, for the sake of the story Craig had no kid(s?), vote, comment, etc (that's the shortest this part has ever been)

Craig's POV:

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

*trumpets that scares you blasts*

STAR WARS 

EPISODE VI

Return of the Jedi

"Are you writing a story or something?" Max asked from above my shoulder. 

"Just pretending that I was original enough to come up with an intro," I sighed, putting my phone down. 

"What do you have so far?"

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."

"How cliché."

I heard a distressed voice coming from the back of the bus. It sounded muffled, but I could still tell that it was TJ. "Is he talking to her again?" I whispered to Max.

He shrugged. "If it isn't her, I'd be surprised." 

Both of us knew that it was his bitchy girlfriend. They've had an on-and-off relationship for the last few months. It seemed like every other week they'd break up and get back together again. I would understand if I thought that TJ was a 'bad' dude, but she breaks up with him over petty things like calling her a minute late, looking at the waitress at a restaurant for too long, or even texting one of us. Everyone who'd met her wondered why they'd even gotten together in the first place. 

The voice stopped abruptly. She'd cut him off again. In two days time, it would start all over again. He should just cut it off with her. Hell, I think even Ronnie would make a better girlfriend than that asshole. TJ came to the front lounge grumbling to himself as he poured himself a cup of alcohol. "I didn't cheat on you with a dude, you asshole," He said.

"She thinks you cheated?" Max asked. I wished he'd kept quiet, but then again, he is Max.

"Of course she does."

"Are you going to get back with her in two days?"

There was silence for a bit, but the tension was crystal clear. After a while, he sighed. "You guys hate her, don't you?"

"EVERYONE hates her," I pointed out. "How do you even put up with her?"

"I like her," He shrugged.

"You like her? You've been together for seven months, broken up with and got back together with her sixteen times, and you like her?"

"I need no further dedication."

Max stood up and put his hand on TJ's shoulder. "Buddy, I think that it's time you reassess your options. Please, for the love of God, don't get back together with her. She'll find someone else." 

TJ stared at me for a moment. He then took a long drink from his plastic red cup, and nodded. 
"Alright, I'll reassess my options."

"We all thank you," I said. 

Later that evening, or should I say later that night? I mean, it was about eleven thirty. So I guess that would be later that night. Mostly because we were all exhausted, we were having a conversation instead of drinking the night away. When I say we I exclude TJ, who was staring at his phone as though it were his lifeline. I was about to say something to him, but Max interrupted with a question. Or rather, a statement that turned into a question. "I bet TJ misses playing bass." He put his hands behind his head in a sign of confidence. "It is the coolest instrument in the world."

"Keep dreaming buddy," Robert told him.

"Well what do you think the coolest instrument is then?"

"Drums, obviously. Everyone loves the drummer." He proceeded to look around as though anyone was going to question his assertion.

"Fine then, what do you think the coolest instrument is, TJ?" He asked.

Finally he looked up from his phone. "I think the vocalist has the coolest gig." He said it so quietly that I wondered if I'd imagined it.

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised at his answer.

"Yeah. I mean, all you have to do is show up and everyone loves you. No one cares about the work because they just love the sound of your voice."

"Ooookay," Max continued, clearly disappointed and confused.  "What do you think, Thrash?"

He shifted in his seat while he thought. "All instruments are cool."

"But if you had to pick one, it'd be bass, right?"

"Sure, dude. Sure."

I looked back over at my phone-smitten band mate. I moved closer to him so he could hear me better. "You gonna actually participate, or are you just going to keep your nose in that phone?"

"They're fine without my company," he insisted.

"Please?"

He turned his head towards me and looked at me for a moment. He bit his lip as he eventually nodded. "Alright, fine." He looked back at his phone to type only one more message, and then put it away. "What conversation do you want me to contribute to?"

"You don't have to be sarcastic about it."

He chuckled. "You never answered Max's question. What do you think the coolest instrument is?"

"The keyboard," I answered mindlessly.

"Why?"

"It's the only instrument that you can make sound like anything."

"Not a bass."

"Do you really miss it?"

He thought for a moment. "Sometimes. Four is usually better than six."

"I'll have to remember that," I thought allowed.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think that I've ever heard a better less is more philosophy."