10: "Leaving Town"
~ two weeks later ~
"Nah -
nahnahnahnahnah," Anthony sang, a childish smile plastered across his face,
glowing from the light of the TV. He lay on his stomach across a teal sofa,
knees bent, his legs swinging in the air. He pointed and relaxed his toes,
crossed and uncrossed his ankles. "Nah - nahnahnahnahnah!" Dangling his arm off
the sofa, his fingers latched onto a glass of milk. He raised it to his lips and
took a few sips.
"Looney Tunes!" a voice exclaimed. A body lunged across
the room and landed bottom-first on Anthony's back. An "oof!" escaped his lips.
Milk splattered across his nose, and he wiped it off. The individual on his back
said, "I hope it's a Marvin the Martian episode!"
"Daffy's better,"
Anthony replied in monotone, lowering his milk glass to the floor. "Kev, I think
you just saved me a trip to the chiropractor."
A goofy grin spanned
Kevin's face. "No problem!"
Anthony swung his legs faster, digging his
heels into his bandmate's side.
"Hey!" Kevin exclaimed, and grabbed hold
of Anthony's ankle, giving it a twist. Anthony howled, laughed, and kicked
harder.
A shadow loomed over the brothers. "Guys, we have to get some
work done."
Letting go of Anthony's ankle, Kevin looked up at the figure.
"Aw, come on, Michael!" His eyes drifted to the TV set. "Yes! Marvin AND Daffy!
Sweet!" The two on the couch stared after the cartoon figures.
Michael
stepped in front of the set.
"Hey! Down in front!" Anthony cried.
Furrowing his eyebrows, he waved at Michael. "Move your lard ass,
pal!"
Pivoting on his left foot, Michael turned off the
television.
CLICK!
"Come on! I have an idea for the music
video."
Anthony dug his hand in between the cushion beneath his chest and
the backing of the sofa. He retrieved a remote control.
CLICK!
The
television came to life. Anthony and Kevin shifted to the right and watched as
Marvin the Martian scooted across the screen with his Martian dog.
CLICK!
Michael smacked the power button on the TV. TV off.
CLICK! Anthony hit
the power button on his remote. TV on.
CLICK!
CLICK!
"Quit
it!" Michael exclaimed, slamming his fist into the TV's power
button.
CLICK!
Anthony's adorable crooked teeth shown through his
smile. CLICK!
Michael grabbed at the remote. Anthony pulled back his hand
and buried it beneath the couch cushion. Latching onto the remote bearing
Chili's elbow, Michael yanked at Anthony's arm, chuckling so hard that he was
losing his footing.
"Kevin!" Anthony called out, pushing away Michael
with his free hand. "Kevin, help me!"
Rolling forward off Anthony's back,
Kevin rammed head first into Michael's abdomen. The two tumbled to the floor,
smacking one another and laughing. Michael flipped his buddy onto his stomach
and sat on his back. Kevin's arms flailed as best they could behind him as
Michael pinched the space between the other's neck and shoulder.
"No,
no!" Kevin cried through laughter. "Not the clavicle!"
"Sleeper hold!"
Grinning insanely, Michael pressed his thumb harder into the pinch.
Kevin's eyes rolled back. "Ahh! Stop! Stop!"
The hotel room door
swung open. Resting comfortably on his stomach, Anthony glanced at the door to
find Brian staring at the fray.
"Hey, Brian!" Anthony greeted him. He
swept his bowl of Cheerios off the floor space beside him and took up the spoon
lying inside. "At least now we don't have to watch the fights on
pay-per-view."
The newcomer raised his brows and smiled.
"Ahh!"
Kevin screamed, eyes clenched shut, back arched. Michael laid in more pressure
with his thumb, laughing maniacally.
Setting down his Cheerios, Anthony
pulled out the remote control.
CLICK! TV off.
All eyes were on the
Chili Pepper lounging on the couch. Anthony tossed the clicker at Kevin's feet.
"Come on, guys," he spoke evenly, rubbing his eyes. "We really should get some
work done."
Michael got to his feet. Extending a hand to Kevin, he
shrugged. "I won anyway. Either way."
"Given the time," Kevin huffed as
he grabbed Michael's hand and got to his feet, "I would have
prevailed."
"Yeah!" Michael snorted. Patting Kevin's shoulder, he added,
"Sure, kid!"
The four sauntered across the room, toward a round, glossy
wooden table. Anthony pulled out a chair, and Michael slid into the one to its
right.
"Hey," Brian plopped into the chair on the other side of Anthony.
"Where's John?"
"Probably still sleeping," Anthony grimaced, wagging his
head. He watched as Kevin eased his battered self into the seat across from him.
"Does it really matter though?"
Kevin shook his head. "Not like he ever
wants to contribute to this band!"
"No kidding," Michael muttered. "I
figure we should discuss ideas for the video and just tell him what we're doing
after. He'll just do whatever the heck we tell him to do. It's best this
way."
Kevin's lower lip jutted out. "Still wanted to see that Marvin the
Martian episode," he pouted.
Grabbing the red notebook in the middle of
the table, Michael commented, "Taz is the best one anyway."
"Hey,"
Anthony said, rapping his palms on the table. He nodded toward Brian. "Who's
your favourite Looney Tune?"
"I like Bugs," Brian replied, twiddling his
fingers.
"Why?" a mischievous grin crept over Anthony's lips. "Because
Bugs likes to dress in drag?"
Brian's eyes widened. He gave his bandmate
a small smile. "I just think he's funny."
Michael pulled a pen out of the
notebook's spiral spine. Tapping it on the table, he asked, "What's this have to
do with our video?"
"Everything, my friend," Anthony replied. He snatched
the notebook from Michael's fingers and flipped open the back cover. Snagging
the pen, he turned the notebook upside down. "This is MY plan for the video! We
save time and effort by being cartoons. And fans'll eat it up!" He drew a circle
with two parallel isosceles triangles on the top. "Here's Brian," Anthony
commented, tapping the centre of the circle with his pen, leaving behind
splotchy dots. "And he's going to be portrayed by Bugs Bunny."
Raising an
eyebrow, Kevin shook his head. "Swan, are you serious or..."
"No, just
hear me out!" Anthony cut in. He drew a speech bubble to the side of the
triangles. "Brian, or Bugs, actually, comes in, clutching his chest, eyes
closed, passionate about the music, as always."
Brian
blushed.
"And he sings...," Holding a hand to his bare chest, Anthony
broke into song. "Baby, please try to forgive me..."
Smirking, Kevin
raised a hand to his friend. "We know the song."
Anthony shrugged. "Okay,
after Bugs' solo, the rest of us appear behind him to passionately sing the
chorus." He scribbled four circles to the right of the speech bubble. Stabbing
the first new circle with his pen, he said, "I'll be Daffy." He brought down his
pen on the next two. "Michael's Taz, Kev is Marvin..." He paused, tapping his
pen on the last circle. "And John will be..."
"Elmer Fudd!" Michael
exclaimed.
"Roadrunner!" Brian threw in a wmile.
Scrunching up his
face, Kevin shrugged. "Yosemite Sam?"
Anthony laughed. "Yosemite Sam?!
THAT's not John!"
"I don't know."
"I like the Roadrunner
suggestion," Anthony commented. He retraced the circle, cutting so deep that the
centre tore from the page. "It's the most accurate. Although Roadrunner says
'MeepMeep', and John doesn't even say THAT much."
The four chuckled.
Their laughter faded into silence within a half minute. Michael reached for the
notebook. "Can I tell you guys MY idea now?"
"Yeah," Anthony pushed it
and the pen to his right. Michael took them up and flipped to the front cover.
Chicken scratches graced the first page.
"Beautiful!" Anthony exclaimed,
smiling. He sat back in his chair, leaning into the backing and propping the
chair up on two legs. "Now decipher that?"
"What I want," Michael
proceeded. Scratching his head, he ran a finger along the text with the other
hand. "Is a video that takes place in a hospital."
Kevin nodded. "Good
thinking," he said. "THAT's something we haven't done!"
"What haven't we
done now?" Anthony smirked. "Think?"
A sharp shoe-sized pain stabbed
Anthony's shin. His grin slipped from his face to Kevin's.
"The video
will be shot in the hallways." Michael regained everybody's attention. "We'll
all be surgeons with coolers containing hearts..."
Brian gulped. "Um,
Michael? I... have a fear of organs. Please don't make me carry
one?"
Michael laughed. He reached across the table and put a hand on his
bandmate's. "Brian, buddy, we'll make sure the coolers are empty!"
A sigh
escaped Brian's lips, and he lowered his head.
"I might put my lunch in
mine," Anthony commented.
"Whenever somebody is singing, he'll have a
cooler and will make it part of his choreography. And, on all our scrubs, we'll
have the front ripped open and blood gushing out."
"Gushing?" Kevin
raised an eyebrow. "Should we really do gushing? That's not good for our
image."
"We'd upset the fans," Brian added, biting at his lower
lip.
Anthony nodded. Laying a hand on Michael's shoulder, he said, "They
have a point there, bro."
"Okay." Michael dug his pen into the page and
scribbled across words. "No blood."
"We should take advantage of the
scrub thing!" Anthony suggested. His eyes twinkled. "We should still have them
torn open to show off our chests."
Kevin scowled and shook his head.
"That's not good for our image either."
"Fair enough," Anthony shrugged.
"But they should be TIGHT scrubs!"
"Yeah!" Michael and Kevin exchanged
grins.
THUD!
Kevin jumped in his seat, his fingers clenched around
the armrests, eyes wide, frantic and searching. "What on earth was
that?"
Brian's eyes grew luminous. His lower lip quivered. "It came from
John's room!" he voiced.
The four scrambled out of their chairs and
scurried out of the room. Anthony, Kevin, and Brian huddled behind Michael, who
pounded on the door.
"Hey kid!" Michael called. "What's going on in
there?"
The door flew open. Just past its frame stooped the room's
occupant. Violet rings gashed beneath both sockets, outlining sunken eyes, which
darted about, then stared at the floor. Sweat speckled the boy's soft features,
and jet locks frizzed in tangles from his scalp. A gleaming white undershirt
stretched around his torso; his muscles strained the sleeves. His jeans hung
about his hips and sagged around the knees.
"I, I have to go."
The
words came fast, the door's shutting faster. Fastest was Michael's palm to the
door before it latched. He shoved it open, into the other's chest. The boy
gasped and jumped back. Michael grabbed at a clump of the fabric across the
kid's chest.
"No," Michael raged, "You tell us what's going
on!"
"Michael.." Brian whispered, reaching for his bandmate's shoulder.
"Shut up, runt!" Michael snapped, sending a shudder through Brian's
body. He glared at the boy in his grasp. "I'm not putting up with your crap,
John! What was that noise?"
"I tipped over a lamp! I didn't mean to. It
just happened."
Anthony's eyes scanned the room, running across an open
suitcase on the bed. A folded blue dress shirt lay inside and in sight.
Anthony's eyes widened. "You leaving, John?"
"Yeah," the Chili Pepper
nodded, wiggling free from Michael's grip. "I quit."