Subject: (UW!) The Band
From: tiels70@aol.com (Tiels70)
Date: Wed, 01 September 1999 11:05 AM EDT
Message-id: <19990901110545.24940.00002826@ng-cq1.aol.com>
Eric looked out the window of the Winabago as it rolled towards
its destination, Raccoon City. Some podunk town that had had some sort of
disaster a while back. From what Eric read in the newspapers in Chicago, a
flood, or fire, or something had killed most of the town. The President had
even declared it a disaster site. At any rate Eric received a call from a
friend of his named Sam Jackson, he'd been a cop in Chicago until about four
months ago when he received a transfer to Raccoon, and a promotion to Sergeant.
Sam had frequented Eric's performances before he moved and was a good friend.
About two weeks Sam called Eric telling him that the music scene was wide open
in Raccoon, since the band had played every joint in Chicago they decided to
take a road trip.
"Here we are," Brian broke the silence, "Nowhereville U.S.A." Brian was the
bassist in the band. He wasn't happy about leaving the Chicago scene, though
Eric liked him as a bassist, Brian was often a hair brain. His idea was to
stay in Chicago until they were discovered. Eric knew better, Any band had to
move around, get their name out there. Brian did have a few valid points in
his argument for staying in Chicago. What record producer would care which
bands were big in a place called Raccoon City.
"Are we there?" Josh's voice came from the back. "We just reached the city
limits, we'll be there in a few minuets." Brian answered. Josh was the
drummer, he didn't care which city they were in as long as there were women.
As they passed through the downtown area, things were looking up. It wasn't
hillbilly at all. There were plenty of bars and night clubs, spotted in
between the shops and restaurants. People were walking the streets even at
eleven-thirty at night. It was a good sign, a lot of night owls was all ways
good for business. They passed the police station on their way to their motel.
It looked like an old library or church, but there were a lot of additions and
repairs being made. Finally they pulled into the motel, it was your typical
low rent, low class, run down motel. They pulled their motor home into some of
the empty spaces in the lot, and piled out. For a moment they stood looking
around, and stretching.
"See, it's not so bad." Eric said slapping Brian on the shoulder. "Ah,"
Brian replied, "Still think we should've stayed in Chicago." Eric spread his
arms and replied, "Listen, like I said, we don't like it, in a month were back
in Chicago." He looked at the motel office and continued, "Anyway, why don't
you guys go check us all in, I gotta catch a cab. I'm suppose to meet Sam at
some bar called Manny's."
Eric let the door swing shut behind him as he entered the dimly lit
bar. There was a stage at the back of the room, with some hillbilly band
playing quite poorly. It didn't really matter how bad they were though,
because no one was really listing to them anyway. To the left was the bar,
with an army of neon beer signs behind it. There was also a rather large lady
in a beer stained apron behind the bar serving drinks. She had dirty brown
hair and a few teeth missing. The kind of woman you wouldn't want to wake up
to the next morning.
"Eric," he heard from across the room, "over here." It was Sam standing
waving him over. He made his way through the tables to Sam's. "How you been
pal?" Eric questioned Sam as they shook hands.
"I been just great. How bout your self?" Sam answered.
"Not to bad." Eric said still examining the place.
"That there's Manny behind the bar." Sam said pointing.
"And them?" Eric inquired nodding at the band.
Sam turned in his chair to see the farmers playing their racket. "Who them,
there just a local group, you can waste them any night of the week."
Sam's radio suddenly crackled to life, "Jackson." Someone on the other end
called. Sam looked down at his radio and said, "Excuse me." He snatched the
radio off his belt and said, "This is Jackson, over."
"Jackson," The radio replied, "This is tailor. Listen, we got a report of an
elderly lady missing. The name is Sheryl Donahue. Probably just some old bag
that forgot to take her medicine wandering around somewhere, but check it out
anyways. Over."
"I'm on it, over." Sam replied into his radio. Sam reattached the radio to
his belt and said, "Listen friend, I got to motor. Talk to Manny over their
she'll set you up to play." With that Sam made his way out of the bar.
Eric threw a look up at the bar maid Manny, and she gave him a toothless grin.
He smiled politely at revolting sight, before leaving his chair and strolling
over to talk with her.
Dar Tiels