Typical Day
Brock Awne wakes up to find himself cradling an empty goldfish bowl on the floor in the corner of a trashed suite at the W. He's wearing nothing but his underwear and an ankle wrapped in dental floss. Wads of chewing gum are stuck in his long locks of curly, platinum ombre hair and his armpits smell like stinky cheese.
The harsh sun shines through the windows which once had curtains that are now missing. The room is silent but for the pitter patter scratch of the tiny feet of a guinea pig scrambling its way across the room. It climbs straight over Brock's exposed belly and continues on. Brock scratches his head, wondering where it came from and what happened to his clothes. A minute later a white rabbit hops along and chases after the guinea pig. It hops right over Brock.
Another minute and a ferret scritches and screatches as it dashes across the room after the rabbit. The ferret pauses, looks straight at Brock and then continues off after the bunny.
"I really need to stop drinking," thinks Brock as he tries to piece together the events from the previous night. Brock remembers being onstage, singing his famous number "Hang on Shmoopy, the Sandman's Gonna Eat You For Dinner." The crowd was digging it. Everybody had their lighters out, which always makes Brock feel all misty and sentimental.
Then Brock remembers the after party, lots of girls, alcohol..,the usual crew doing just the usual after gig things. A groupie who had stormed the stage was there. Somehow she got security to let her backstage after that incident. She had sung for everyone (the girl had a terrible voice, total tone-deaf trash). Brock seems to remember the rabbit there somehow, as a trick some magician guy was doing when he came. The guy was bragging about his pet "cat," a white Bengal tiger that he used for his act in Vegas.
Brock remembers inviting the guy and a few others to an after-party afterparty in his hotel room suite, but where's everyone else?
At that moment a gigantic white Bengal tiger comes slowly prancing over, menacing. He takes one look at Brock, gives an enormous yawn, and continues walking out the door.
Brock is just a little freaked out. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to tune out the bright sunlight now pouring into the room.
A minute later he hears banging and then the shrill sounds of a familiar voice.
His mother, warning him he better get out of bed and get dressed or else he'll be late for his job again.
Brock peers out of one bloodshot eye at the Fender clock on the wall. It's 9:00AM. Brock has been asleep for four hours. Four hours is not enough sleep for anyone to function on, he decides, as he drifts back to sleep.
At 11:00AM Brock is awakened again, this time by the blare of his cell phone to AC/DC singing "You Shook Me All Night Long". Brock drags himself to the phone and answers it in a grumby "What up?"
It's his boss at the Shake Shack. Brock is an hour late...again. Don't bother coming in, his ex-boss says—he gave the job away to a homeless person, who is far more reliable.
Brock hangs up, bummed. Now he'll never be able to move out of his mom's house. Ugh. Depressed, he goes back to sleep.
At 3:00PM, Brock gets out of bed feeling alive, refreshed, and starving. He grabs a piece of cold, leftover pizza from the night before that is resting on his bed near his feet. It smells decent.
Standing in his socks and underwear, Brock downs the cold pizza with several swigs from a half full milk carton in the fridge.
AC/DC blares again as he gets another call—this time, it's his drummer, Bongo.
"How's it goin' man?" says Brock.
"Not so good. I can't make the gig tonight."
"What do you mean, you can't make it? You have to make it. We're getting paid for this, man. A hundred bucks. Split it between us that's like twenty dollars."
"You can have my cut," says Bongo." I promised my girlfriend I would help her move."
"Are you insane? You're gonna bail on a gig to help your girlfriend move? Couldn't you just hire someone or do it another day?"
"No, she's moving to Tuscon and I'm moving with her...so I kinda have to be there."
"So what are you saying, you're leaving the band?"
"Uhm, yeah. I guess so. Unless you guys wanna move to Tuscon too."
"No, I don't want to move to Tuscon!"
Brock hangs up the phone, furious. Great, now he's gotta find another drummer for the band—by tonight—or forfeit one of the few gigs he has.
Brock gets on the phone and calls everyone he knows. He manages to get in contact with a drummer who the bass guitarist played with once and said wasn't half bad. The dude said he could make the gig tonight, so he's in. Brock hopes the guy can keep a beat.
At 5:30PM, Brock's mother walks in to see him still in his underwear. She gets on his case for oversleeping and losing yet another job. She gives him an ultimatum, either he finds another job by the end of the week or he's going to have to find another place to live.
Brock says he'll get right on it tomorrow, but for now he has to go to rehearse before the gig.
At 6:30PM, Brock shows up at Bongo's house where the rest of the guys meet up. They go through a few songs on the set that they're playing tonight and meet the drummer, who is a little off, but at least it's something.
At 8:00PM, Brock and the guys head out the door to the club.
At 10:00PM, Brock takes the stage. He is riding high on the excitement of the crowd and the lights and the music. As he barrels through his set, he hardly notices that most of the audience is talking or tuning him out—to him, this is what it's all about. The night, the music, and feeling like the Rock Star he knows he was born to be.
At 11:00PM, Brock hangs out after his set with the guys, drinks a few beers, chats up a few girls, listens to some of the other bands that are on next, and wishes he could get back up on stage to play more.
At 2:00AM, Brock finally hangs it up for the night, gets in his car, and drives home.
At 3:00AM, Brock crawls back into his bed clutching a warm slice of pizza with him at his side. He falls asleep before he can get to eat the slice. Another day in paradise, he thinks as he dozes of to sleep.