Pink Floyd's Dusty Flat

Candy and a Currant Bun

          One morning, Syd Barrett awoke to the warm sun shining in through his window.

          "I want candy." He stated flatly.

          He then threw off his covers and ran into the living room. He screamed, "AYYE LADS!! LET'S GET CANDY!"

           "Oh, for fuck's sake, please shut up." Roger mumbled from the couch. He looked absolutely hung over.

            "I bet candy'll make you less of a bitch." Syd said.

            "Fine, but I've got a pounding headache so don't test me." Roger replied in annoyance.

            "Where's David?" Syd asked, knowing the answer. "Is he with a girl or something? He's always out late these days."

             Sleepily, Roger mumbled, "Uh...I think I saw him with Rick or something last night. Not sure."

             Syd began to laugh loudly, until a befuddled David stumbled into the room.

             "Oi! Whaddya goin' on about?" He shouted.

             "Have you seen Rick, by any chance?" Syd asked, trying to contain himself.

             "Nah...don't think so..."

              Wanting answers, Syd trudged into Rick's room. He was laying in his bed, sound asleep. Syd then retrieved an amplifier, all of the cords, and his Fender Esquire without waking Rick up. Then, he began to play "Candy and a Currant Bun" in an obnoxiously high register whilst screaming the lyrics.

             "OH MYYYYY, GIRL SITTING IN THE SUN. GO BUYYYYY CANDY AND A CURRANT BUN. I LIIIII*emphasis on the k* KE TO SEE YOU RUN LIKE THAAAAAAAAT."

              As Syd was about to go into the second bar, his lovely singing was punctuated by a slap to the face.

           "Ow, fuck! What was that for?! I was just trying to wake you up!"

            "Shut up before I throw your guitar across the room." Rick replied.

            "Jesus, I didn't know you had this much fire in you." Syd laughed, the red mark on his face growing hot. "Wow, that hurt."  

              Nick Mason sleepily walked into the room and was immediately and completely woken up.

             "What the actual fu--"

             "Don't ask questions." Rick said roughly as he struggled to get the guitar out of Syd's hands. Giving up, Nick walked away. His thoughts seemed to meddle together in a craze as he tried to figure out why the hell Syd had an amp set up in Rick's room at nine o'clock in the morning.

             While the racket was going on in Rick's room, Roger felt slightly off-put, so he decided to make the group breakfast. Upon smelling eggs, bacon, and toast, Syd and Rick quickly shuffled into the kitchen. They were greeted by a smirking Roger.

             "What?" Syd asked.

              "Oh, nothing..." Roger trailed off. Syd shrugged and sat down at the dining table, and Rick, Nick, and David followed suit. Roger walked in, serving David, Rick, Nick, and himself.

              "Oh, I'm sorry. We haven't the ingredients to make any more. Maybe you could go pick some up?" Roger said in a sing-song tone.

              "Oh, really? I swear I saw TWELVE eggs in the fridge! A whopping TWELVE! And I'll go check right now!" Syd stood up and began marching towards the fridge. He was then interrupted by Roger grabbing him by the waist and tackling him.
               "Nope! Sorry, there's no more!" Roger exclaimed. The commotion went on for a few minutes, with the rest of the band laughing their asses off in the background. Surprisingly, things like this happened often, leaving the men wondering whether it was Syd or Roger that was easily provoked...or was it all of them? Maybe it wasn't even a question of who was easily angered, but rather a question of deep philosophical reasoning. Or maybe they were just being dumbasses.