[The stage is set. What stage? The stage in a club/pub thingie, where bands like Sex Bob-Omb would have played in Toronto. Scott's standing out on said stage by himself, his head bowed, and the most awesome bass guitar in existance in his hands. Oddly enough, he was alone to play, no band or anything.]
Uh, hey! We're Sex Bob-omb -- well, I am, and we're here to play for all our fans! And if you're one of the new guys? Well, I hope you like my show. And stuff.
[Scott knew he could do this, even if he never wanted to see the rest of the band again. And he could do it well. His fingers started to strum at the strings of his bass guitar, and music started to pour out. Visually. Like, the whole notes and stuff? Coming on out. And it wasn't just bass -- the music was full, like everything was being played! The singing was all Scott, but who cares about small details like that.
As for the songs? Well...
here,
here and
here. (If you can't tell, I suck at choosing music.)
And as he finishes up? He jumps off of the stage -- throwing his bass to the side -- and into the crowd. Hopefully, you're one of the people there! Scott himself is unaware he's asleep right now -- he fell to sleep on the job. Again.]