here's more (it's going slow i know, but wait a bit longer for it to really get going):
“Hello to you guys. Yes, I’m a Fire-fan, as Petros said. Fairly new fan, but one none-the-less…” “Are you the one who send me some art by Myspace?” Gus asked. I was stunned he recognized me that clearly, that he remembered at all even. “Y-yeah, that’s me, I’m that person. I could show you if I had a computer right now…” For some reason, we all went silent for a moment or two. “But oh well, you must just take my word for it, Gus,” I sighed. “I will then,” he said . “What’s up with you guys? Surely you don’t want to hear about my boring, ordinary life!” I laughed. Smiles spread from face to face. Mark spoke up with, “We’re just waiting to do a gig.” At this moment, a zillion ideas sprang into my mind. So many in fact, that I couldn’t think on even a single one.
“Really?” was all I could say, and for saying only that, I felt like an idiot. “Yep,” said Bob. I stared up at the ceiling, calming myself. After a few minutes, I looked forward again, saying, “You guys wouldn’t happen to mind if I went along, would you? Or do you not give your fans rides to shows?” I was hoping to God that they would make this one tiny exception for me. Gus turned his head to the side a little, as if he really needed to think it over, as if it were a pretty important choice. Oh, I understood the things that came with a band giving a fan a ride to a show, but I was choosing to ignore them, as I’d never gotten so upclose to any one band I liked, until now that is.
Finally, Gus said, “Ok.” Just that one word. I could’ve died from over excitement and joy, but I settled for instead squeezing my hands into fists so tightly my nails dug in and drew blood in tiny trickles, which slid down my wrists and so on. Seeing that, Petros tossed me a rag. I wasn’t conscious of the blood until I saw Mark’s eyes looking at my fists, which made me look also. Only then did I get what the rag was for. I unclenched my fists and dabbed the blood off. Looking around, wondering what to do with the rag, I tossed it over the counter, landing it in a sink. Good, it needed washing anyway.
“Well now,” I sighed, “how much more time before the gig?” Looking at his watch, Mark said, “Oh, maybe twenty minutes, or a little less. We should leave now, start driving.” “Your guys’ gear is already set up?” I asked. “It is. We don’t need long for setting up, so since because of that, we had much spare time, so we stopped down here, one of few airconditioned places,” Bob explained, laughing a little after the last part. “That’s cool,” I said, “now let’s go.” “No stuff?” said Apollo. I shook my head. “No need for it, really. I’ll be fine without my stuff right now.” So…the six of us said “andeo” (goodbye) and went to the van.
