My friend purchased Rock Band and called me telling me I HAD to meet him at work when he got off since he and two of my friends were going to his place to play it.We went to his place and picked our instruments. Eric was on drums because it was his game and that’s what he wanted. I took lead guitar because I had the most guitar hero experience. Steve was on bass and we made Jeff the singer…because he’s gay and therefore has the best voice. He prayed for Cher songs.
We played for three hours. At first, we sucked but eventually we got to nailing songs on medium and even started on hard. This is the greatest game ever made!
Perfected hard and moved on to expert. Eric got a noise complaint because we were rocking too hard. After the doorman left, there was another knock on the door. Neighbors!! But these were actually the hot girls down the hall. They’d heard us practicing and wanted to see what all the noise was. We played a few songs and they loved it. I let one play my guitar and Eric played two songs with a girl in his lap. Then Eric took his girl to his bedroom. After that we all sort of paired off. Except Jeff.
Our groupies came back and tonight they brought friends. We barely played Rock Band at all and pretty soon we found ourselves in an orgy “backstage” (the bathroom). Steve declared he would no longer play unless some girl was “playing his flute” at the same time. The Rock Blumpkin he called it. Jeff might have a cold, he was sniffling all night.
Too drunk to play, Steve started a fight with Eric over his song selections over the past two days, insisting that he was the real talent behind the band and that he had practically written all of our songs. Jeff is now snorting coke straight off the drum kit.
I went to Eric’s early and he and I beat the game on expert. When Jeff showed up two hours late he complained that we were ostracizing him and that we pretended we didn’t need him. “I’m only the fucking lead singer!” he insisted. Then gave us the finger and sang “Black Hole Sun” as if he were a coked up version of Madonna. The things he did to the microphone are too disgusting to go into detail here. Didn’t see Steve at all.
I wanted to start solo tour but was angrily accused by Eric of “breaking up the band”. He renamed my character “Yoko”. Steve came out of the groupie apartment, buck-naked, waved his schlong at us and then showed us how he could play bass with his wang. He insists that he’ll never wear clothes while we play again.
I’m worried about Jeff. To “express himself artistically” he made sheaths for the microphone. It now either resembles an erect penis or is wrapped in hypodermic needles. Only half of them are full. When questioned about his new armband he lazily told us that lots of rockstars were wearing rubber tubing on their biceps and forearms. Steve is still naked all the time and had a “cock-off” with the microphone. I don’t want to know who won, but Steve grins smugly every time Jeff sings “Mississippi Queen”.
Bad news today. Jeff tested positive for HIV and Steve has come down with syphilis, gonorrhea and a new disease actually named after him. I think one of its symptoms is cock-rot. Eric’s been black-out drunk all day. He keeps playing “Gimme Shelter” on easy, with one hand, while chugging whiskey.
The band broke up today when Jeff died of AIDS. Steve has traveled to South America to seek a healer. I started a solo tour and am thinking about settling down with Mary, the groupie.
After Jeff’s funeral I saw Eric on the subway banging on some empty paint cans and asking for money. Rumor has it Steve is locked up in Guatemala. Sodomy is still illegal there apparently. A reunion tour looks bleak at best. Mary’s pregnant and we’re buying an old farmhouse in Connecticut to live out our days in peace. Rock Band…what a ride!