“Two weeks and we’re all goners again.” A tall and tattooed young man said, checking the calendar on one poster-infested wall of his room. “What you say, Garrett? We head outside, soak up some Arizona heat?”
Another guy was in the room, slumped on a chair in front of a desk table. He was fixated on the computer screen he was facing. His thoughts weren’t exactly focused on reality but his online life. “Yeah, whatever you say, Ohh. For the record, I’m soaking all the Arizona heat you want to get outside right this moment.”
John, the tall and tattooed one, had enough of his friend’s antics since they were staying under the same roof for the last two months. Thinking quickly, he pulled the plug of the computer. He was ready for the curse word and groan he’ll get for doing it.
“Man! What the fuck? I was using it! Weren’t you here for the last hour and a half?” Garrett confronted his friend. He never gets why he was a person of indoor pleasure while he’s in band with four other individuals who never wants to settle in a room for just a second. That’s right, he remembered. He loved the music they create together.
“My thoughts exactly! We are here for the last hour and a half!” John fired back, itching to get outside. Jared, one of the guitarists in their band, was spending time with his long-term girlfriend while Pat, their drummer, was busy taking care of his niece, Sofia. As for the other guitarist, Kennedy, he always doesn’t know where that guy’s at. “So, come on, Gar. Let’s hang. I’ll also ring up Kenny to join us. He’s been talking about this shooting range last night.”
He finally gave in with hesitation, to say the least. “Okay, okay. Anything to shut you up. I’ll shower and change my clothes.” He gets up from the chair, chooses some clothes from his temporary closet and heads out of the room.
“You should. That disheveled look you got going on your hair is not working for me. It’s too Edward Cullen.” He managed to shout through the narrow corridor Garrett was walking through. He laughed at his own comment.
After five minutes or so, Garrett was done cleaning himself. He changed into his black shirt he bought, circa 2008, considering it a vintage already. His mind was still concentrated on his problem told to him by a computer screen an hour ago.
“Gar! Meet me out front. We’re using my car.” He gave a nod to his friend who was swiftly trailing down the staircase.
He headed straight outside and a red box-type car was by the driveway. Windows were down and John called out. “Get in, loser. We’re going shopping!”
He shook his head. “Shit, John. What has gotten into you? Everything you say is coated with pop-culture. It’s sickening.” He opened the car door and slid in the passenger seat.
“You must admit that Edward Cullen remark I said was true.” John laughed, amused by himself. “So, I called Kenny while you’re showering earlier and he gave me the address of the shooting range he was telling us about! This is going to be awesome, man.” He stated, full of excitement and adrenaline his friend was not feeling.
“Whatever you say, Ohh.”
“Tell me.” John said, hands on the steering wheel. “What’s making you extra grumpy today? We’ll try to sort it out later, but first, let’s enjoy our little badass gig this afternoon.”
“You know, the regular problem I always encountered since Myspace days. Fucking hackers messing with my account. This time, it’s my Twitter they’re playing with.” Garrett replied with much irritation.
“That’s all you’re buzzing about? Create a new account, man. Delete your old one. That’s not rocket science, is it?”
Scratching his head and making his hair more tousled, Garrett shared more. “I’ve got that figured out. What’s bothering me is the new username I came up with. It’s already taken.”
