Ficlets

“Ready to rock?” the manager asked.

“You know it, baby,” I replied.

“Follow me to the stage then, lads,” he said, and led me and the rest of the band out of the dressing room.

It had been 74 hours since I woke up as the lead guitarist for General Tso’s Army, the biggest rock band in the world. I’m not sure what happened. I went to bed as an accountant in Cleveland, and I woke up on a tour bus, beer bottles and groupies everywhere. The rest of the band didn’t think anything was amiss; they laughed at my “fake” accent for a while, then told me it was getting old. So I’ve spent 72 of the past 74 hours faking a British accent.

It hasn’t been a bad life, I admit. We spent the first two days on the road, sleeping all day and partying all night. We’ve spent the past day at the Bonanza Festival, which makes the wildest party I’ve ever seen look like an eight-year-old’s birthday party.

It’s been fun, but I have some questions: how did I get here? And more importantly, how will I handle my first ever guitar solo?