Basil, Rock God

We made it to the stage, and I was already starting to chafe. I’d never worn leather pants before, and they not as sexy as you’d think. They chafe, and heaven forbid you sweat. But, I’m in a band, and that’s what rock stars wear, right? I’d be more comfortable in a suit… but only that guy from AC/DC can get away right that, right?

A stagehand handed me my guitar and I threw it over my shoulder.

“I sure hope I can play…”

“What did you say, mate?”

“Oh… ‘I sure hope I get laid.’”

“Ha, keep your mind on the show, Basil.”

Three days with the band, and that’s the first time anyone had said my name… what kind of rock star name is ‘Basil’?

I didn’t have time to think about my stupid rock name. It was time to play, and I had no idea if I could. I grabbed the pick from the mic stand, held it between my fingers and got ready for the lights to come up.

“Are you ready to rock, wherever the hell we are?!”

I sure hoped I was.

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