Drag King

Chapter 1: the Meeting

Silver

"This is bullshit.  You can't just leave, we're actually good now,"  argued Annie, drummer in our band . . . well there had been some debate about the name, but I was still hoping everyone will see the err of their ways and warm up to Mercury, Silver, Aluminium Linoleum, or anything else I'd suggested.  It was really too bad --

"Sorry, you just have to find another lead singer, Mom says I have to focus on school work." That would be Happy, or Drake, or Spinner, or whatever, depending on his mood.  I wasn't too torn about him leaving; he didn't seem all that interested in the music anyway -- just groupies.  Not that we had any --

"Groupies . . ." I mumbled to myself as I my violin bow.  The others didn't look up, still locked in debate.

"Who needs you!  We're fine on our own!"  That would be Spike, our base guitarist.

Happy chortled, trying and failing to hold back laughter. "What the hell are you gonna do without a lead singer?" He shook his head, as if leaving us gave him the right to feel superior to us. Jerk. I'd miss his hair, though.  It always looked so soft, and thick. Unfortunately, he sang like a pop singer without the auto tunes. Abruptly I stood up, putting the violin on my shoulder. I began playing the theme from the movie Insidious, only higher pitched and with more of a staccato on the high notes. Slowly, I begin to walk towards Spinner. " . . . Silver? What are you --" Abruptly I began to play faster, adding in my own little twist in the song to make it more interesting. With each staccato high note, I took a leering step toward him.  "Th - this isn't funny!" he shouted, backing away with me off-beat. No wonder he sucked.

 Swiftly, I jolted toward him, the music hitting its climax and the tempo climbing expeditiously.  I watch quietly as he ran out of the restaurant, the McDonald's door banging him on the butt. I smiled then turned around to sit back down. The band gave me a standing ovation, while the other patrons either threw me dirty looks or scared ones. I smiled and bowed, then took my seat. I began to polish my violin bow again.

"Let's party!" shouted Spike. So we did: lots and lots of cheap, greasy food, friends, and pissing off the manager of McDonald's to the point that he came out of his office just to glare at us. Annie made a nasty face at him.

"Oi!" she snapped. "We're paying customers until we run out of money. So get that stick out your --" I swung the stick of my violin in front of her mouth in warning. This was one of the few restaurants that hadn't thrown us out yet. Or denied us patronage for life. Annie looked at me. I shook my head. Annie shrugged. "Whatever you say, Siv." I smiled fondly at her as she started using about half the tables in the place as one giant drum set, skipping in between them like a deranged ballerina.

I tried to keep the noise down. I knew we were gonna run out of money soon, so I didn't want us kicked out any sooner than we had to be. I was staring out in the parking lot, where two birds were fighting over a french fry. Then I saw it.

"Wow," said Annie, looking my shoulder, after I ogled for about a minute or so. "That guy's hot."

"No. Way," said Spike, squinting at the parking lot. "That has to be a chick --"

I squealed. "It's coming in here! Quick, act natural!" I grabbed all our fries, and dumped them in the center of the table.  Spike used one of Annie's drumsticks to twirl his hair around into tiny curls.  Annie helped me arrange the french fries into tepees, and then --

"Smooth move, Ex-lax."  She gave me a dirty look.

"What?  You started it."

"You're the one who started it; I was just following along --"