Rock 'n' Roll Suicide | Roger Taylor

Chapter 3

I dropped on the stool next to Henry, where he was sitting counting how many bottles of vodka he could consume that night. I swear this boy does the most random things I have ever seen. Most people were now facing the stage waiting for 'QUEEN' to come out. They had grown quite the fame if I could guess from the look on everyone's faces. So, since everyone was waiting for the majesty to come out Henry and I got the opportunity to rest a bit. We haven't had been there for not even half an hour and we had served more than seventy people. 

"I hate maths," Henry announced as I sat down next to him. I looked at him with a confused look waiting for him to continue with his hate declaration. "I mean, look. How can people spend their valuable hours solving shitty math problems and decoding complicated codes that, at the end of the day won't seem useful somewhere." 

"What is it that you can't estimate?" I asked smirking. Of course, his undeniable hate for maths chose to make its appearance when he couldn't figure out something that needed maths. We are both shit at this subject. We know just the basics and we do not wish to learn more. They are so complicated and for what? 

"How much of that honey-colored bottle over there to put on the cocktails." He said pointing at a honey-colored bottle at the top of the bar. I went and grabbed it to try and measure how much he should put into the cocktails. It was almost empty and it didn't have a label. I turned it around searching if it had any signs of what it was. "How much do they need?" 

"I don't know it hasn't something written on it. Did the instructions say something specific? Like what the fuck it even is?" I asked somewhat confused. 

"I don't know it just said that we have to put it on." Henry shrugged. I shook my head not actually knowing what to do. I opened the bottle and sniffed the smell of its containing. It definitely smelled like strong alcohol and something I couldn't very much define. I leaned closer to the bottle to try and define the other substance feeling Henry leaning next to me, our cheeks brushing against each other's his eyes looking at me expectantly. 

"Will you stop staring at me like that? I won't understand quicker if you stare at me like a wounded animal except for the impossible circumstance where you have some sort of superpowers that will help me find what the hell you just gave to all those people." I said turning to look up to him. I could practically feel his eyes watching me as he ridiculously leaned over me.

"If amazing looks and brain are counted as superpowers then, yes, I think I have." He said grinning. I rolled my eyes and smacked him behind his neck. He looked at me with a wounded expression rubbing his aching neck. I turned back to the bottle and after seeing that there was no way I could define the substance, there was only one more solution. I raised the bottle and look at Henry. "If you die I take all your things right?" He asked.

"Apart from my Bowie discs and t-shirts. You burry those with me."  I answered.

"Fair enough." He nodded in agreement. I slowly took a deep gulp of the thing and the moment I swallowed it down, I felt a burning in my throat that I had never felt before. It was like a dagger was dragged on your throat. I quickly and instinctively spat it out missing Henry for some millimeters. 

"Oh my fucking Zeus, what the fuck is that?!" I said with a screwed-up face. It had to be some very strong alcohol to burn like that.

"HAHAH! You look like an angry lizard!!!" Henry laughed hysterically at my expression. The bloody idiot. He could be laughing even in the most non-laughable situations. One time we were both in our chem class and he wouldn't stop laughing because when the professor asked what Pier Curie said to Marie when she discovered the radium, he answered 'Marie you look radiant today.' God knows how much time it took him to get over it. He wouldn't stop laughing for the whole freaking day! Genius he thought he was.