Thread: Foodstamps and boxed wine (spaceghost and myself)

Arthur was pretty glad he stayed actually. His tea was barely touched during the performance and he had to admit he figured he could splurge on one of their cds. Most bands like this sold their cds for about five to ten dollars, so that just meant a night at home cooking a hot pocket instead of a box filled with noodles this night. Besides, the drummer was actually kind of cute in this band. Not that he figured he had a chance with the drummer, much less with the singer or guitarists, but it didn't hurt his decision to buy a cd. At the end of the show when the people who came to be seen and get their cred quickly filed by to avoid paying for a cd or even leaving a tip for those who worked at the store, the fans of the band and the few new ones they picked up walked up. Arthur hung back a little, the obvious sign of the nervous fan who is just a bit shy. His arms clutched five notebooks and his left hand held a sharpie marker in it and a twenty dollar bill that had seen better days. His eyes were glued to the drummer at first, but finally he realized there wasn't much of a line anymore at this place. He finally walked up and found himself face to face with the singer, Hi, how much is a cd of your guy's material? He looked a bit worried, but the tension melted up when he heard the price, It was really nice music. Your name is Ceremony, right? I'll tell my friends about you. I do hope you come back to this place again. Many of the bands who get booked aren't that great. His voice became more confidant as he went on, his praise being real instead of some sycophantic suck up who just TOTALLY wanted to be friends with the band. He also was very capable of being avoidant at small talk directed at him, slipping deftly through any inquiries with answers so generalized they would be nigh impossible to remember. Would you mind signing this copy for me? I know you probably get that, but I brought my own sharpie. Not because I knew you were going to be here, I just generally do carry one, Artie started getting a little bit more nervous as the drummer came over, but he figured nothing was going to come of it. He knew he wasn't the pick of the litter for gay men, he wasn't some skinny blonde twink that so many guys seemed to want. He was a nerdy bookworm who preferred the realms of fantasy and a good night in than a night out partying and dancing. These men definitely seemed like the latter though. Huh? Oh! To Arthur, Arthur McCullen. He took the cd and bowed his head to the men, Thank you. Can you tell me where you will be performing next? He would take a mental note, be it the place where or to just check online if they had no posted gig. After that he eagerly slipped out, heading off to his apartment with a bit of a giddy step. Arthur loved music, just adored it. Finding a new band was something that always made him happy. Finding one that played most likely exclusively in your city? That was damn amazing! The next day, with his cd player with him for his break and a single notebook to write down ideas that came to him, for anything, he was at his job. His uniform was a rather bland set of black pants and an annoyingly silver shirt that had a name tag that said Hi, I'm Arthur and I REELY want to help you! The pun always made him shudder, but after a year at the place he had gotten used to it. A blonde girl with a shirt she didn't fill out very well was working with him, popping bubblegum as she stocked the new releases on the shelf. His other coworker was a black fellow who just couldn't understand why Arthur enjoyed all that white music when there was perfectly good rap to listen to, but had given up trying to get through to him with Arthur had just taken the rap and added it to his collection of music. Arthur sighed as he was put on cleaning duty and headed out into the floor, his female coworker giving him a wink as he did so, Stop that Shelley. If you weren't allergic to this stuff you know it'd be your job. You being a woman and all. Shut da fuck up, you sexist! Shelley jokingly squealed and tossed the rag at him with a laugh, Gays ain't supposed to be sexist dumbass. I told you before, I am NOT gay, Shelley, Arthur retorted with mock exasperation. You like dudes, dude. AND chicks. You don't like me, dude. That doesn't make me gay, Shells. That makes me have good taste, Arthur laughed as his coworker did and went back to his job, a shocked looking forty something woman staring at the odd exchange. Arthur had a much better rhythm to his voice when he was relaxed, nothing like the nervous man he had been the night before. There was a dinging as the door opened and Rodney spoke up, Welcome to Film Safe, where we reely like movies. Can I help you?