Before I leave you alone to enjoy D.e.e.L.'s amazing second part of our Groovy Cool Writing Adventure, I want to announce something. People who follow me in Twitter most probably will know by now, but I want to say it here once again, so everybody knows about it. I am proud to say that my amazingly talented writing partner has his first book out!!! Yes, you heard me (or read me). He got his first collection of short stories published under the title "Blissfire". What would you do to find happiness? What's the price of finding bliss? The answers are in the collection of short stories created by my good friend's left hand :D You can have a look and get the book in Lulu.com (just click on the link and you will be redirected there).
So now I invite you all to enjoy a new story in our joint Groovy Cool Writing Adventure. The one you can enjoy here in my blog is D.e.e.L.'s story, while you can read mine in his blog http://deeliopunk.wordpress.com Thanks for reading and, please, remember that we love getting comments!!!
Unknown Band 2- The Groovier Coolier Adventurier
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t know yet, kid.”
“How exactly does this P.I thing work? How do we know when someone needs help?”
“You listen for it. Now put this on.”
“Make-up? What for?”
“If you’re with me, you’re doing the same dance I am.”
“I…I don’t even know how. I’ll look ridicul…”
“Blue lips or red?”
“You look like a blue. Red is my thing.”
Walking the streets, this time with another soul by my side, a partner of sorts, a partner with no knowledge of the world in which I bask every day. He smears the blue around his mouth, without style, without any sense.
“I should have asked the wannabe poet to come with me; at least he was trying to make use of his fingers like a human being. What do you call that on your face?”
“You act like I know how to do this. I don’t put make-up on my face every day like you do.”
“Oh, you only do it sometimes then?”
Strangers pass by and assume one clown is prepping another for some sort of street show. A family starts to walk by, then stops and waits for the dazzling performance. I juggle several hand gestures into their faces, they walk away.
“There, now you look normal.”
“I don’t know if your definition of normal really fits with the rest of society. What now?”
“We keep walking, maybe sit at my desk, maybe have a couple shots.”
“You call that working?”
“I don’t call it anything.”
We keep walking, he begins to start walking in the way an idiot would assume a clown should walk; his shoes aren’t big enough to be lifting the souls from the asphalt as such. I spray water at him from the flower on my lapel. He realizes his mistake, good boy; at least he has the basic knowledge of a cat. I stop to stare into a window. The boy with the worthless hands stands with the girl that possesses the tongue of vomit. We both walk in to meet the young hopeful rockstars once again.
“It’s…it’s you! Get away from me!”
“Don’t you hurt him again!”
“No furniture around, he’s fine.”
The boy turns his gaze away from me and looks up into the colorful selections that exist before him. Red, blue, or pink, he doesn’t deserve to wear any of the colors of my face, not with those hands, not with that attitude.
“What? No way! You can’t tell me what to do, shut up and get out of here; I don’t want you here anyway.”
“Don’t care what you want, not concerned with what you think you need. You’re standing in front of colorful eye patches at a cheap store in the middle of some run-down street, and why? Because you made a mistake, because you think your throat can just insult anyone it wishes, spit words into the faces of people you don’t even know. You want to cover up that shiner you earned? Then do it with the color I am telling you, do it or it’s going to hurt every time you walk into a wall because both eyes are covered up to hide the learning curve that has been so easily earned by your lack of articulated thoughts.”
He doesn’t let another rebuttal spill from his lips; he just grabs the pink eye-patch and walks to the register. The beginning of the learning process is less than two-dollars, the money comes from her purse, his pockets assumed empty from his mindless thoughts.
“It looks nice on you, William.”
“You don’t have to lie, Janine. I know I look pathetic. Could just buy another once this guy stops following us.”
“We didn’t follow you, we are looking for some crime. Slappy just saw you through the window.”
“Looking for some crime? Shut it, kid. I’m leaving you two, knowing that you won’t trade in that patch, or try to sing me a lullaby, I’m leaving and knowing that both of you unknown wannabes are going to actually chase something worth your time.”
“Hey! Janine is an amazing singer!”
“Hey, I worked at that place since before she started coming in to make everyone go deaf. Not a single time has her voice been any good.”
“A bit too harsh, kid. Tone it down a bit.”
“What? You can get all up in people’s dreams and I can’t?”
“Who’s the one wearing red?”
“Ugh, I don’t even know what that means, Slappy.”
The girl nudges the boy with the pink eye patch, they point to across the street, I turn around to join them in their discovery.
A stranger from across the street turns her gaze. In her hands she holds a plastic piece of saving paper and going green. She wears glasses, and gloves that have the finger tips missing.
“It’s so amazing to see you! Where have you been?”
“I’ve been, places. William, what happened to your eye?”
The boy points to me during the apparent reunion of young friends. The new girl scowls at me, I juggle one hand gesture from left to right, making it look as if shooting into the air and falling onto the other hand.
“These guys are following us, KT. They don’t have lives or something. The old one hit me with a chair.”
“Should I make him suffer? I can do it you know.”
“She’s not bluffing Mr. Clown, she can really do it. KT isn’t just a name, it means something scary. She could have you groveling at William’s feet!”
“KT, hmmm…and what’s it mean? Killer Tickler? Is that what I’m in for?”
“How did you know my name? Can you read minds too?”
“Did I slip on a banana and hurt my head this morning? Do you honestly think that you can read minds, little girl?”
“I knew you would ask that.”
She runs up to me and attempts to tickle my sides, a quick step to the right and she trips over my shoe and falls face first into a pie.
“Was that really necessary, Slappy?”
“Don’t question my methods, kid. I don’t get tickled, just doesn’t happen.”
She gets up and rallies to her friends, the three of them stare down the kid and I, stare us down as if they are some type of make-shift mob. There’s the boy who writes words with only one eye, the girl that vomits when she sings, and the mind-reader who didn’t think to read my mind and figure out my pie plan.
“I don’t know what you are all planning to do, she’s the mind-reader, not me, but without such amazing powers I can still tell that it’s going to be a dumb idea. I however, have a good idea. I see a boy who says he knows how to write, a girl who claims she knows how to sing, and another girl who apparently has fast fingers. You want to become rockstars? Well, you got your band right here. You write, you sing, you play guitar.”
“I can play the bass, if, you guys need a bass player.”
“We’re not trying to join the band, kid.”
The mind reader looks at me as if trying to scan my thoughts for pure intentions.
“What makes you think you can just tell us what to do? Why can’t you just leave us alone and go blow some balloons?”
“William! I know he was wrong to hit you, but he does have a point. We can be a real band! KT, are you in?”
“Only if we’re called ‘Killer Tickler and Friends’.”
“That name is fine with me! William, please?”
“Fine, I’m in. You playing bass for us blue lips?”
“The name is Mike, and, can I?”
“Go ahead. Band manager wasn’t something I thought I’d walk into today, figured it’d be a liquor store or a jungle gym.”
“A jungle gym? Aren’t you a bit old for that, Slappy?”
“Sarcasm isn’t your thing, is it,kid?”
“I…I guess not.”
“Let’s head back to the cheap grub, I want to hear the mind-reading crazy fingered, save the earth, push my glasses up into my skull and cut the tips off my gloves to look like a bum and tickle strangers guitarist wannabe pick up the strings that the sound butcher tried to strum music with earlier.”
I walk and they follow, my partner and the unknown band.