Scömìche One-Shots

Trouble in Central America

So I found this buried in my drafts, not a scomiche one shot, more of a PTX one shot

[Brackets are translations]

Maybe it was just the fact that luck had completely avoided them on their entire trip to Mexico. Maybe they'd done something to deserve this. Whatever it was, it was making the group absolutely miserable. They had finished a show in Puebla, Mexico hours prior to the current time, and it had been a blast. The venue was okay, a bit too shaggy for Mitch's taste, but amazing nonetheless. It made Mitch absolutely delighted to know that they had fans that didn't even speak the language they sang in yet they still listened to their music and supported them unconditionally.

It had been Scott's wonderful idea that they wander around a little bit while their tour bus driver went looking for a gas station so they could begin their trip back over the border and to Texas ASAP. No one had been keeping track of the time nor the location they were in, and it had just dawned on them that they were, in fact, lost. Now the entire group were all wondering why, exactly, they couldn't have just flown. And Mitch was wondering why he had thought it would be a good idea to wear a black long sleeve shirt. It was a raging 101 degrees, and the sun was beating down on them, making all of their heads hot to the touch and each step they took even more miserable than the last. Mitch couldn't stop thinking that if they got out of the situation alive, he was going to kill both Johnathan and Scott with his bare hands.

And what a coincidence it was that Scott, Kirstie, and Mitch's phone had all died, and that Avi and Kevin had decided to leave their phones on the tour bus. Mitch found the idea ridiculous, and he made a mental note to also sue Apple for making stupid iPhones that literally couldn't last an hour without the battery being drained completely.

"Kevin, how the f*ck do you know Chinese but not Spanish?!" Mitch snapped, licking his chapped lips.

"I didn't think I would need it! I didn't exactly know when I was in school that I would be stranded in Mexico with 4 other people who don't know Spanish!" Kevin responded. He fanned his face with his snapback as well as he could. Mitch huffed and turned to Avi, who looked miserable. His long hair was sticking to his neck and his purple shirt was sweaty. Mitch was sweating too, it was just that no one could see it. I hope no one can smell it, either, He thought miserably. He pushed his fringe out of his face.

"Gringos! Necesitan ayuda?" Some man yelled. [*Derogatory term for white people*, do you need help?]

Mitch turned around to glare at whoever had yelled that, because even though he had no idea what they had said, it had not sounded nice. He was so ready to give them a piece of his mind when Scott tugged at his arm, and he turned away regretfully. He looked up at Scott who not only looked like a sweating mess, his face was a bright red and his arms looked sunburned. "Aww babe you look mserable!" He exclaimed, mustering sympathy for his best friend. Before Scott could reply, Kirstie chimed in.

"Mitch, we're all miserable," She pointed out. Mitch crossed his arms as they trudged along.

"I'm well aware of that, Kirstie. Remind me again; why don't you know Spanish?" He asked. He scowled as a little boy pushed him out of the way, almost causing him to fall onto a cart that was filled to the brim... corn?

"Fijate por dónde vas!" The man exclaimed. [Watch where you're going!] Mitch, not knowing what he'd said, just walked away and closer towards the rest of the band. He looked back and tried to give the man an apologetic look, but instead he was met with a glare.

Some people are harsh. Talk about passive aggressive... He thought distastefully. He knew it wasn't ALL mexicans, it was just the ones he'd encountered that day hadn't been particularly the nicest people he'd ever met. He just didn't know if it was a usual thing or if it was just the weather, but he tried to not let it get to him. He crashed into Scott's sweaty back and went to yell at him, then realized that the group had all stopped. He peeked out from behind Scott and saw that there was a girl in front of them, smiling with excitement.

"Ustedes son Pentatonix!" [You guys are Pentatonix!] She squealed, and Mitch saw the rest of the group grin, including himself. They hadn't understood the first part, but they recognized 'Pentatonix' quite well.

"Umm, we don't speak Spanish," Mitch said slowly, hoping she would understand. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh! I did not expect you to! Hi, I am Miriam. I am a huge fan of you guys," She said, grinning. Mitch rushed forward.

"We need access to a phone. Or some way to get back to Los Angeles ASAP. Or air conditioning," Mitch said desperately.

"In this part of the city, not many people have telephones or cell phones. There is one family over there who has one, but they are not very nice. I do not think they would let you use their phone. I am sorry," She said, looking truly apologetic.

"Do they speak English?" Mitch asked.

"The man of the house does-"

"Is he home right now??"

"Yes, I-" He turned away from her.

"Guys, we have to go over there and see if we can use their phone," Mitch said. The group looked optimistic. "C'monnn, it's worth a shot!"

~

"I said no, and that's that! Stop asking and get away from my house!" The man snapped. Mitch was ready to go off on him. He was tired, sweaty hungry, dehydrated, and he knew his friends were too, so he was not going to tolerate any of it anymore. Again, Scott stopped him by gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I have a better idea," Scott said, smiling slightly. When Mitch raised one eyebrow in confusion, Scott only shook his head, a mischievous look on his face.

~

"Are you serious? You really think he's going to let us use his phone if we sing for him?" Mitch asked Scott. Scott nodded.

"Trust me, alright? If this doesn't work we'll figure something else out. I promise," Scott said. He nodded and went to the right of Scott, Kirstie on the other side. Kevin was to the left of Kirstie and Avi was to the right of Mitch. They faced the man's house, and Kevin counted down from three.

"Sir please let us use your phone, we just wanna get back home..."

~

Everything had worked, and after singing the song three times, the man had relented. They'd quickly called Esther, and in no time they were back in their tour bus.

As Scott lathered aloe vera on his sore arms and Mitch sat with his shirt off, Mitch said, "Remind me to never let you talk us into anything ever again."