Dear Diary, Something Finally Happened Today (Nikki Sixx)

Dear Diary, I Hit My Head Too Hard

A/n: REALLY QUICK PRE-READING NOTE I'M SO SORRY I DO THESE EVERY TIME but I never lived through the eighties so historical inaccuracies are inevitable. Becky is completely original. Remember to vote, comment, all that jazz. 

I clean off the last of the tables for the day, my wet rag now more filthy than ever. I wrinkle my nose at the sight of it, seeing as how being the busboy really is disgusting, especially when you're a girl.

Not that I have a problem with getting my hands dirty, I just don't like it so much.

"Becky!" My boss calls. "Are you done with those tables yet?" He's nice to me at least, and when everyone's gone, he lets me play whatever music I want through the speakers. So tonight, I can barely hear him over Axl practically screaming out the chorus of Welcome to the Jungle. 

"I'm done, Mr. Owen!" I call back. He turns of the music, probably so that we can talk to each other without shouting. 

"Another job well done," He sighs, looking at my work. 

I squeeze out the rag over a bucket. "I wouldn't say that. I still have to go back to my stupid roommates."

"No appreciation for the past, I know," He says, holding up a hand to keep me from complaining about my living situation. 

"If I have to listen to things I don't like, why can't they listen to things they don't like?" I go on anyways. "It's the hypocrisy of this world."

"I'd build you a time machine so you could meet someone more like you if I could." He takes a duster seeming out of nowhere and begins to dust off the image of when this diner first opened. It was a sepia image of his grandfather cutting a ribbon, a little cliché. "Did I ever tell you about the time that Mötley came here?"

"So many times," I sigh. I loved this story. "They came marching in here with their black hair and their big ol' high heels and demanding food because they were starving."

"And with them they brought a mob of people with designer drugs," He looks back at the painting, now without dust. 

"And all you could do was ask for an autograph," I chuckle.

"Good times, good times." Mr. Owen looks back at me. "You would've liked them."

"They're still alive."

"I mean back then. When they were young, in their prime. Big rock stars in way over their heads." I lean my elbows on the table while he gets a glint in his eye. "That's why I'm glad you work for me. My own children don't even get it." He tuts. "But never you mind that." He makes a gesture for the door. "Go out there. Enjoy your life while you've still got it."

I smile as I stand up straight, heading for the door. If only people knew of the hidden gems of this world, maybe things would be just a little bit better.

When I get back to my dorm room, I'm attacked with the loud notes of overrated-pop-tune good 4 u. I groan while my roommates dance and sing loudly into hair brushes. "Becky! Come sing with us!" Monica, the blonde one, says. Her whole body bounces with her while she practically beams.

"Then play a song I actually like," I snap.

"Don't need to be such a bitch!" Lily, the brunette, snaps back. "We're just trying to include you."

"Then let me pick the songs for once."

"Everyone likes this song," Monica argues. "You just need to get with the times, Grannie!" She points to my vintage tee-shirt. "No one even knows who Alice Cooper is anymore!"