>I take a large swig of beer. Stood up by that Leopleurodon fuck. Like hell I'm gonna let him sour my mood. This shitty little pizza place out near Skin Row is wild, already seen a fight and apparently there's a live performance every few days. Another large swig of beer and a couple bites from this horrid herbi pizza. The pizza was probably a mistake. I spy out of the corner of my eye that someone has come up on stage. It's dark everywhere but the stage and it's easy to see them. A ptero girl, covered in tats and looking rather underfed. A twinge of familiarity strikes me.
>Surely it's not them. Surely. They hit it big, moved out to somewhere else and are doing coke off a stippers chest. They're not playing the shittiest venue looking like they're on the verge of death. I squint my eyes. It's Fang.
>Fuck. Fuck no. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I watch in horror as they speak into the mic. Face barely any hint of life. Voice deeper and rougher.
>"Hello Pizza Time. I'm Fang and this is Silver Dreams." they lazily wave to their bandmates. Fang's even cut their hair down to nothing. God why?
>The set starts. Fang playing bass still. It's like my entire world was flipped upside down. They hated this. Their face and body devoid of any hope, any soul. It almost makes me vomit. I have to look away. I pay my bill at the bar and step out front. Pulling a cig out to try to hold down my dinner. It doesn't work and I'm letting my insides out behind the dumpster in the alley.
>Did I do this? A wave of self hatred crushes me. I barely manage to hold on. I stagger back to the front of the joint. I need to speak to them. I head back to my car, grabbing a bottle of water and rinsing my mouth out. Double checking to make sure I've not stained this suit and I head back in. The set is still going on. I meet the bartender.
>"There a chance I can meet the band after the set?"
cont.