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Words and their Meanings

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"Hey, Sal?"

Sal looked up from the video game he was playing. "Hmm?" He and Larry had rented something new from Blickbluster when school had ended that Friday night, and they'd been in Larry's room ever since.

How many hours had it been? Sal had lost track. Time always felt different when he and Larry were together in his room; it seemed to go by slower, when it didn't stand still. It hung low and heavy in the air around the two of them; it was only affected by the sounds of Sanity's Fall, which Larry played on his stereo. Softly, so as not to wake his mother up. It made for an interesting soundtrack for the game Sal was playing on mute, at any rate.

"How good would you say you are with your guitar?"

Sal shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I need to practice more, if I want to be considered 'good.'" He loved his electric guitar; his father had scrimped and saved for years in order to get it for Christmas.

"I know you, Dude; pretty sure you're sellin' yourself short. I've heard you play."

"Aw, Larry Face, my ears are burning." Not really; the early hours of the morning had pulled at Sal's eyelids. His eyes ached, and everything had settled into a calm, comforting, dull weight around him. His emotions were at a low as his head swam.

"I'm serious, Sal. I was thinking; you and me? We should start a band."

"Yeah?" Sal clearly needed to sleep, because that actually sounded like a decent idea. "Like, a cover band?"

"We could start off with that, yeah, but maybe we could move onto writing our own shit."

"I'm not very good at writing, though." It had been Maple's idea for their friend group to try to get into Nockfell High's creative writing class. Sal had been maintaining a B-, up to this point. He considered himself fairly good with grammar and spelling; it was the creative part of creative writing that stumped him. At least he wasn't having as much trouble with it as Todd.

He definitely wasn't as good as Maple, who seemed to flourish in the class, even coming out of her shell a little. Chug seemed to enjoy it a lot, too; he was actually getting better grades than Sal was.

And then there was Ashley. She'd taken to poetry like a swan took to both the water and air.

"Ash is, though. Maybe she could be a part of it?" Sal suggested

"Hey, yeah! And Todd's got all that technology and crap; he could probably, like...synthesize drum beats and stuff like that."

"And you've got a decent singing voice!" This was sounding better and better by the minute.

"Fuck yeah! We should talk about it with them ASAP!"

Sal smiled behind his prosthetic, only feeling a part of it, as he went back to his game.


The band only lasted for six months. Only a handful of people came to their final show, and the only people who bought their demo tapes were Larry’s mom and Todd’s dad.

None of them regretted it one bit.