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