[mwr] 9.15 - monty python's flying circus
"An argument isn't just contradiction."
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- I-25 Freeway somewhere outside Colorado Springs - June 2003 -
“Just tell me one thing, asshole: what the fuck you done lately that you think you’re my fuckin’ mother?!”
Glancing up from the sandwich he was making in the kitchenette of the tour bus, Ryder watched for a moment as Mel and Crow, close friends and unofficial stage crew for Control Freak, plowed even deeper into the heated argument over bus bunk assignments. From his seat at the kitchen table, the unofficial mediator’s position, Sal caught Ryder’s eye and grinned.
“Because I been here longer than that fuckwad, and I told Pink-”
“You told Pink whatever you could ta get laid!” Mel snapped, turning back to Sal plaintively. “Look, Toc, I just think it ain’t fair ta Juke to stuff him in that fuckin’ matchbox, he’s a foot taller ‘n I am! If I wanna give ‘im my bunk, what’s the problem?!”
“I don’t see one.” Sal admitted, glancing at Crow. “It’s his bunk, bro, why you trippin’?”
“It’s like I fuckin’ said, dude, I told Pink the next free bunk was hers!” Crow rasped in his trademark gravelly bass. “Look, when Louie dumped off the bus in March, Pink and I made a deal, ‘cause his bunk was bigger ‘n mine, and I’m taller ‘n he is, right? So Pink lemme have the bunk and I told her that if a new, bigger bunk opened up and none of the big dogs here wanted it…Sizz, Ry, Bob, whoever…she could have first dibs. She’s got senority here, she’s entitled to it.”
“Don’t mean shit.” Ryder remarked, raising an eyebrow as he shared a slightly more serious look with Sal. “Toca?”
“I hear it, brother, I hear it.”
“Then fuckin’ call it.” Ryder insisted, going back to his sandwich. “S’ fucked’s what it is.”
“Thank you! Jesus…” Mel groused with a testy sigh.
“Shaddup! Ry…c’mon.”
“Uh oh, here it comes.” Chris teased, grinning as he ambled up the main aisle of the bus and slithered past Ryder to take a seat in the kitchen/common area.
Rolling his eyes, Ryder sighed and shook his head, giving the rest of them the finger. It wasn’t his place to settle the dispute, and he didn’t really want to. After all, it wasn’t a real argument anyway because nobody on the crew or in the band ever had any real arguments.
As he slapped the last piece of bread on his sandwich and picked up his plate, turning to head back to his own bunk, he heard Sal’s voice raise over the din and smiled as his brother instantly settled the fight by declaring Mel the winner and master of his own bunk assignment…with a long string of vicious cursing from Crow.
It sounded pretty nasty, but that was life on tour. A real argument had venom, all the guys were doing was butting heads for the sake of distraction without any real animosity. Real fights had punches thrown, and nobody had even tried to lift a hand yet.
Fights were fights. Boredom was petty spats and plenty of screaming. It was just the way things worked in their family.
Muse: Mays Ryder
Fandom: Highlander (OC)
Words: 522
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- I-25 Freeway somewhere outside Colorado Springs - June 2003 -
“Just tell me one thing, asshole: what the fuck you done lately that you think you’re my fuckin’ mother?!”
Glancing up from the sandwich he was making in the kitchenette of the tour bus, Ryder watched for a moment as Mel and Crow, close friends and unofficial stage crew for Control Freak, plowed even deeper into the heated argument over bus bunk assignments. From his seat at the kitchen table, the unofficial mediator’s position, Sal caught Ryder’s eye and grinned.
“Because I been here longer than that fuckwad, and I told Pink-”
“You told Pink whatever you could ta get laid!” Mel snapped, turning back to Sal plaintively. “Look, Toc, I just think it ain’t fair ta Juke to stuff him in that fuckin’ matchbox, he’s a foot taller ‘n I am! If I wanna give ‘im my bunk, what’s the problem?!”
“I don’t see one.” Sal admitted, glancing at Crow. “It’s his bunk, bro, why you trippin’?”
“It’s like I fuckin’ said, dude, I told Pink the next free bunk was hers!” Crow rasped in his trademark gravelly bass. “Look, when Louie dumped off the bus in March, Pink and I made a deal, ‘cause his bunk was bigger ‘n mine, and I’m taller ‘n he is, right? So Pink lemme have the bunk and I told her that if a new, bigger bunk opened up and none of the big dogs here wanted it…Sizz, Ry, Bob, whoever…she could have first dibs. She’s got senority here, she’s entitled to it.”
“Don’t mean shit.” Ryder remarked, raising an eyebrow as he shared a slightly more serious look with Sal. “Toca?”
“I hear it, brother, I hear it.”
“Then fuckin’ call it.” Ryder insisted, going back to his sandwich. “S’ fucked’s what it is.”
“Thank you! Jesus…” Mel groused with a testy sigh.
“Shaddup! Ry…c’mon.”
“Uh oh, here it comes.” Chris teased, grinning as he ambled up the main aisle of the bus and slithered past Ryder to take a seat in the kitchen/common area.
Rolling his eyes, Ryder sighed and shook his head, giving the rest of them the finger. It wasn’t his place to settle the dispute, and he didn’t really want to. After all, it wasn’t a real argument anyway because nobody on the crew or in the band ever had any real arguments.
As he slapped the last piece of bread on his sandwich and picked up his plate, turning to head back to his own bunk, he heard Sal’s voice raise over the din and smiled as his brother instantly settled the fight by declaring Mel the winner and master of his own bunk assignment…with a long string of vicious cursing from Crow.
It sounded pretty nasty, but that was life on tour. A real argument had venom, all the guys were doing was butting heads for the sake of distraction without any real animosity. Real fights had punches thrown, and nobody had even tried to lift a hand yet.
Fights were fights. Boredom was petty spats and plenty of screaming. It was just the way things worked in their family.
Muse: Mays Ryder
Fandom: Highlander (OC)
Words: 522