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Battle of the Bands

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"Fuck"

Marshall groaned as he sat up in bed, mornings were, as he considered them, the bane of his already miserable existence. After sitting on his bed with his head in his hands for about ten minuets he had finally built up the strength to move. Shuffling around his room in a zombie like manor he picked up the least disgusting smelling band t-shirt, skinny jeans and flannel he could find. He then proceeded to grab his blood red, ax like bass from where it was leaning on his nightstand, step out onto the dreaded sidewalk,and start his journey to the far more dreaded land of school.
After walking for about five minutes he stopped at a familiar front lawn and looked up at an even more familiar tree house.

"Fi," Marshal called, "Cake, come down"

"Shut the hell up Marshall," a voice responded "I'm doing my makeup, don't try to rush perfection."
Walking to school with Fiona and Cake was one of the only good things in Marshall's life. Fiona was really sweet, obviously not into him, and gave not a single fuck that he was gay as Elton John wearing a rainbow pantsuit riding a rainbow tiger shitting rainbows. Cake on the other hand, was sassy, with a catlike attitude and sharp sense of humor, making any time spent with those two enjoyable.

Later on down the road, Cake and Marshal heard an excited high pitched squeal from Fiona. She diverted their attention to a poster tacked to a fence,

"Battle of the bands!" she squealed,"20th of august, that's tonight!"

"Hell yeah,"Cake said, "I'm gonna show off my sick guitar skills"

Marshall, worried, asked "Do we have to ask Ashley along?"

"Dude"cake said"Just cause she hates you for dumping her because you found out you were gay doesn't mean that you can just kick her out of the band."

"Fine, but you two have to convince the bitch to come."

 

~~time skip cause I don't wanna write about school~~

 

"Ugh," a whiny voice stated," I cant believe I let you talk me into this. Ashley, a.k.a me, has talents far superior to anyone's here."

The band members got back together after school and decided to head over to where the battle was located.

"It says here, that the battle is in that old warehouse on Crosswinds Hill. Dude this is gonna be awesome!" Fiona told the other three. The group took the twenty minute walk and decided to sign in and head to the back to look at the other bands, hoping none of their competitors were as good as they were. Fiona was drawn to a group of younger looking bands yelling "Chug, chug chug!" Cake was drawn to a smaller, yet just as loud, group playing poker. She knew that she would sucker them out of everything they had. Ashley, obviously, walked sassily towards a band made entirely of shirtless frat boys. Marshall was the only one of the four actually looking at the competition, even if he didn't want to come at first.

Marshall's eyes were caught by a bright flash of orange, he followed the sunny streak to it's resting place, on some douches head. He looked bored, Marshall noticed his hair wasn't entirely orange, the tips were frosted yellow. Hothead, as Marshall now called him, had drumsticks sticking out of his pocket. Marshall noticed that Hothead had a friend, a tall lean guy with shoulder length black hair. Only when he turned his head Marshall could see his paper white skin, and a snow white streak near his left part.

"Idiots" he thought' "probably sound like helium addicted My Chemical Romance wannabes."

Fiona, Marshall, Cake and Ashley got back together and decided to head into the crowd in the front room of the warehouse to listen to their competitors preform. In Marshall's opinion most of the bands really sucked, but the crowd didn't seem to mind as long as they could somewhat figure out what song was being sung they didn't mind if the singer sounded like they were gargling marbles, or the other members were holding their instrument wrong.

After what seemed like hours of cover after cover of Paramore, MCR, FOB, and Panic! at the Disco, the quartet was called onto the stage. The audience quieted down a bit as the band started to set up their equipment.

Marshall took a deep breath, three seconds, the longest in his life.

"Are you guys ready?"

"Yea!"

"As I'll ever be"

"Yep"

He looked at Fiona and she took his cue, filling the whole space with her guitar. Marshall and Cake joined in, drums, lyrics, bass and guitar fitting together like a puzzle. Marshall lead his voice into the lyrics of heart shaped box by Nirvana. His voice resonated through the hall, Fiona's ringing beside his during the chorus.When the song had finished, and the crowd was cheering Marshall looked to the left, off stage and saw Hothead and Grayscale (his new nickname for the tall one) getting ready to preform.

Marshall could have laughed at his internal dialogue.

"I mean, I know of lots of good bands with two members, Tenacious D, Daft Punk, Local H, The Black Keys, the list is endless but neither of these guys look like they could sing a note to save their lives. Greyscale looks like he has to stamp his foot to count and Hothead probably can't carry a tune if it was written on paper."

Marshall's train of thought was derailed by a hooded figure running through the crowd, Marshall could only make out a fraction of his face though.

"Oi, Mono!" the figure called.

" Oh my god!" he heard Fiona squeal, glad his attention was taken away from the stranger, "Look at that cute guy over there!"

"Which one?"

"The drummer, the one with orange hair, he's so hot."

"Yeah, sure, If you say so. I, myself, prefer the tall, dark, and handsome type. I prefer drummer boy's friend over there."

Marshall giggled internally at the two girl's conversation and helped them get their equipment off the stage. When everyone was off he stage he motioned for the trio to get onto the stage. Neither Grayscale or Hothead sung, the new guy did. Grey scale brought out a bass, black, of course. Hothead sat at the drum set after pulling his drumsticks from his pockets. New guy pulled his guitar out of a case and stepped up to the mic, but right as he was about to sing he changed his mind about something. He took his jacket off.

"What the fuck." Marshall said, feeling as though his breath was torn out of him.