A Night at the Theatre

Chapitre 4

Metallic noises and food smell woke you up.

You stirred and yawned; your sleep had been chaotic and not good. At all. You didn't manage to fall asleep, the springs of the couch penetrating your body and what you ate turning in your stomach. When you finally fell asleep as your body gave in, weird dreams and the uncomfortably of what you were sleeping on disturbed your night.

You got up and scratched your back. God, you were lucky if you wouldn't end up with a wrinkled muscle by the end of the journey.

"I'm in Love With My Car? Are- Are you serious Roger?"

Brian was sat at the table of the kitchen, a cup of tea in front of him and a sheet of paper in his hand. He quickly nodded to you as you sat next to him and looked back at Roger, who was busy making bacon above the hob.

He said, not turning to him: "It's always like that anyway. Both of your writings are perfect, always good, but me, eh..." He didn't finish his sentence and pestered under his breath, swallowed by the noise of the meat frying in the pan.

You cocked an eyebrow to Brian; he looked at you and rolled his eyes. His gaze went back on the paper; "With my hand on your grease gun. Nice, very subtle."

Roger turned and threatened him with the spatula: "It's a metaphor, Brian!"

He quickly glanced at you as he acknowledged your presence, but didn't say hi. You took the sheet from Brian's hands and eyed it. "What is it?" He shrugged and turned back to his bacon. "A song I wrote for the album."

You took a minute to read the lyrics and put a hand on your mouth. Brian bit his lip at your side. You scoffed: "It's just... weird Roger." You cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the lyrics once again. "What exactly are you doing to that car?"

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. As it wasn't enough, Brian added: "It's very poor lyrically speaking. It will look weird next to the other songs..."

All at once, Roger took the bacon with the spatula and catapulted what was on it on Brian. The guitarist was caught off guard and huffed as he rose his hands – too late – to protect himself. You laughed and took the plate that was in front of him to protect you if ever, and grabbed a toast that was hanging there to throw it at Roger. He huffed as he wasn't expecting that, and grabbed a slice of cheese that soon ended up stuck on your shoulder. "Bitch!"

You eyed something to throw and saw him laugh looking at where the cheese landed.

Laugh? Did he just laugh with you?

He grabbed the rest of the bacon to throw it at Brian and this one huffed: "S-Stop! Rog for God's sake, I'm a vegetarian!"

You laughed even more but both Brian and you stopped as you saw Roger grab a quite huger missile; "No!" You both screamed at the same time.

"Not the coffee machine!"

He stopped in his track, the machine in his hands above his head, the wire dangling at his side.

Freddie burst in the room at that particular moment and eyed you all, hand on his hips. "What the hell is going on here?"

He looked at the piece of cheese on your shoulder and bacon in Brian's hair. He swiped his hand in the air: "Anyway, I don't care."

He headed toward you and put his arm on your shoulder; "Today we have to record Bohemian Rhapsody for the LP, that will potentially come out one day." He looked at you, gauging your questioning look. "Oh, yeah. We chose a song I wrote for the LP."

"Freddie's thing."

Freddie huffed at what Roger had said. You cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the singer. "You mean, Freddie's thing is the title?"