Description: Chris, Yashiro and Shermie get ready for a show at the Clapham Grand, preparing to pay tribute to a special fan and two special furry friends.
Paris, Southtown and now London. Shermie Jourdain's career as a fashion designer and rockstar is taking her to some of the world's most exciting cities! Well okay, she was born in Paris, so perhaps that doesn't count, but at least two more places! Their current location isn't quite as glamorous as she'd hoped however. The dressing room is well decorated with walls painted in an attractive aquamarine and comfortable striped armchairs but someone has forgotten to empty the bin from the previous occupant. Sack the cleaner! She gives the contents a suspicious look before dumping her own well chewed apple core on top of the pile.
"The Clapham Grand" she announces, just in case the two males in the room were in any doubt about the venue for tonight's show.
"Apparently lots of other famous people have played here like Charlie Chaplin and Public Enemy but probably not at the same time!"
She's dressed for the occasion in a black and white skirt suit that looks like a sexed up version of Chanel's classic style, courtesy of her own label 'House of Shermie'. Her red hair has been styled in to her usual pair of ponytails that hang way down her back with her thick bangs completely obscuring her eyes. Speculation is rife as to what colour her peepers actually are but it seems nobody has seen any evidence to back up their suggestions.
Yashiro Nanakase is currently seated at his own dressing table, wearing his usual everyday outfit - the red leather jacket with black straps across his bare chest, white pants, and of course, heart choker around his neck - and eating a bucket of fried chicken drumsticks.
"At least I got chicken," he remarks with his mouth full of poultry flesh. "I mean, at least they got chicken! Kay eff cee, just like back home! Score one for Team Japan! Anyone want some?"
He holds the bucket out for either of the other pair to take a drumstick, if they so dare, while discarding what's left of the leg bone in a dish that's begun to pile high with the remains of the fried birds.
"I'm feelin' good about this show! We're gonna rock our butts off, and then we're gonna rock /their/ butts off! Especially that retarded cancer chick that wrote me that letter!"
The 'letter' in question is actually a poorly written e-mail that has been printed off and stuck to the back of Yashiro's guitar so that he can remember the girl's name when he gives her a shout-out during the concert.
'Dear Mr. Yashiro,
my name is Mitsuru-Chan Tokugawa
C Y S is my favrit band. i lik to lissen to ur songs wen i ride the short bus to the skool i go to for kids who arr special lik me. i am not aloud to listen to C Y S by my parents but they said i am aloud to watch ur consert in london england because the doctor said the canser means i am going to sleep for a long time soon. please can you say hi to me at the consert if you get this letter because i really love your band so much? please please p.s. i love you the most yashiro :)'
"She has such good writing for a dumb chick," Yashiro says, flicking a tear away from the corner of his eye with his un-greasy pinky and sniffling as he finishes re-reading the e-mail printout.
Chris is also wearing one of his usual outfits. A blue t-shirt, black knee-length shorts, blue boots. Why change a winning combination. He's walking around the room, apparently thinking of something or other, but he's still listening to the other two.
When Shermie tells them which venue they play at, he smirks. "Oh thank you, I thought we were going to play in Canada, eh?" Thank you for setting me straight and telling me where we were going aboot." He might be thinking, but still gotta say his piece.
Then there is Yashiro going on about the Chicken. Even offering either of them some, but Chris knew better. "Uh, no thanks, I am good."
He knew about the "letter" Yashiro received. It's good to have fans, even special fans. The last comment from Yashiro about it opens the way for another push from Chris. If you give him such a good opener, he has to take it. "She writes as well as you do. I can see why you would feel such a strong connection." He winks at Yashiro.
A short moment after that, he says. "We're going to blow the building tonight, you guys will see." He meant this figuratively of course... right?
"I bet you feel like it's Christmas" the French female remarks as she watches Yashiro tuck in. "I'm good without the chicken though, as it will make my fingers all greasy when I'm playing my keytar!"
When her bandmate refers to the 'fan' letter, Shermie's own face remains perfectly still.
"It's a very sad situation for this girl. I'm glad your handsomeness and our magnifique music can bring her some comfort."
She moves over to the man adjusting his heart-shaped choker till it's perfectly centered on his thick neck and then dabs the tear from his cheek with the sleeve of her jacket.
"Maybe I could make her a t-shirt or something. A special customised one."
Chris' smartass remark earns him a smirk from Shermie, but it's followed with a shake of her head, perhaps a warning not to wind the hot headed guitarist up before their show.
"As for blowing up buildings, I'm not sure we are insured for such a thing, so perhaps we can just blow their minds and perhaps some kisses." She makes a pouty face in the mirror, taking the time to check her lipstick is looking perfectly pristine prior to the performance.
"Don't be a dumbass, Chris. Canada won't let us back in after what happened last time," Yashiro says with a glower, lower lip curling.
==*== WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME ==*==
Chris, Yashiro and Shermie were standing at the corner of a crosswalk in Toronto when a mob of screaming girls suddenly descended upon them like those fast zombies that were big in the early 2000s.
"It's him! It's Justin!"
As the mob swarmed his little Bieber-shaped buddy, Yashiro whirled around on instinct, grabbing the nearest by the shirt and hurling her away.
"Hey! Hands off my bro, skank!"
==*== LATER, IN COURT ==*==
"Mister Nanakase, your defense has stated that you were trying to prevent an assault on a minor -"
"Look, I didn't know she was a cripple chick, okay?"
"Mr. Nanakase, Miss Doherty's injuries were sustained /after/ you shoved her into traffic."
"See? I knew it! You wouldn't catch me shoving a cripple chick into traffic -"
==*== PRESENTLY ==*==
"Hey, thanks, Chris," Yashiro says, his mood lightening when the youngest CYS member compares his writing to that in the e-mail, presuming that he means his handwriting rather than spelling, since he hasn't noticed any spelling errors anyway.
"Uhhh, why bother making her a t-shirt when she's gonna be taking a long sleep, Shermie?" Yashiro questions his French compatriot with his usual candor as she finishes adjusting his choker, his eyes rolling. "You should make her some pyjamas."
He nods appreciatively and gives a thumb up once she's assisted him.
"Thanks, sweet cheeks."
He pulls out a packet of wet wipes that accompanied the fried chicken and carefully cleans his fingers before pulling on his black driving gloves.
"Ya know, I don't have an urge to wreck this place. They got fried chicken, they got wipes, and best of all, they don't got any You-Know-Who. And You-Know-Who is halfway around the world right now, so there's no way he's gonna ruin this for us. Hey, you guys think we should dedicate a song to the cancer chick?"
He winks at Shermie, his face showing he knew full well Yashiro wouldn't get it, which would be proven later on.
He answers Yashiro. "We're not allowed back in Canada because of the crippled chick, as you would call her. I remember. Thanks, by the way, she looks like she had a mean tackle, especially for her size."
He agrees in the sense of Yashiro toward Shermie. "Yeah, no t-shirt. Make her a funeral dress if you want to make something. I mean like 'Rest in peace, may C Y S forever play in your heaven.'"
Then Yashiro asks about dedicating a song. Chris likes that idea. "We totally should do that, it would win even more points with people.
"How about Don't Fear The Reaper?" Shermie helpfully suggests.
"You might be right about the t-shirt though. Maybe I could make her a robe or something like Chrissy says, that she could be buried in. Or perhaps she's gonna get cremated and then it would be kinda a waste...I tell you what, let's forget the whole clothes thing and just go with the dedication!"
She wiggles those 'sweet cheeks' checking her close fitting costume out from all angles.
"Such excellent tailoring. I am most talented, not to mention very beautiful."
Confidence is not an issue for the redhead.
Speaking of redheads, she visibly tenses as Yashiro's thoughts turn to Iori. That never ends well and she'd rather the dressing room wasn't destroyed!
"You should forget about the jazz man" she advises. "He's not even that handsome."
She neglects to inform the rowdy rockstar that his rival has a safe place on her 'handsome list'.
"I was thinkin' Enter Sandman," Yashiro proposes as he paces, punching Chris lightly in the arm as he passes the youngster. "On account of her goin' to sleep or whatever." Shermie's display draws Yashiro's attention, and the redhead receives a similarly friendly blow from the guitarist in passing, but it's not with a fist and it's not on the arm.
"Damn straight, Shermie. Hey, whatcha acting all tense about?"
Yashiro decides to assist Shermie with a solution to her situation by delivering a second, friendlier smack and squeeze to his BFFWB. "I'm not thinkin' about any jazz man, anyway - hey, what do you mean not 'that' handsome? He's an ugly son of a bitch! He hit all the ugly branches when he fell out of the ugly tree when he was a baby! He's so ugly, he - hey, is anyone gonna finish this chicken?"
Yashiro's face had started to turn nearly as red as his jacket, but the distraction of the half-bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken brings him back to his senses. "If you don't I'm gonna go feed it to some pigeons or something."
It seems that the crisis is averted for the moment.
Chris chuckles at the whole thing. Then he has to say "Ow" when Yashiro punches him. The older brother needs to feel strong. "Enter Sandman, that's actually brilliant." He tells Yashiro before he says to Shermie. " You are very talented in tailoring. Nobody can deny that."
Then comes Jazz and how awesome he is not. "Don't worry Yas, you're much more handsome than he will never be." He shakes his head when again they are asked about the chicken. Still didn't want any part of it. Then he asks one last question, stretching. "How much time is left before we start?"
"Well yes, he is pretty ugly isn't he?" Shermie fibs. "I was just trying not to be too cruel."
Her response to Yashiro's amorous attentions is blase. She's used to his frequent fondles and they aren't unwelcome.
"I don't think the pigeons will want the chicken" she muses. "Wouldn't that be like me eating an English person or something? Maybe not that extreme, but it seems off! Perhaps one of the roadies will find a home for it."
Perching her perky posterior on the arm of one of the chairs she starts to scroll through her phone before casually asking.
"What song shall we start our set with? Maybe Fanatic Waltz or Rhythmic Halluciation. Or how about Mad Fantasy? You like that one, Chrissy!"
The compliment from the Swedish singer supplies him with a satisfied smile from the seamstress.
"It shouldn't be too long till showtime now. They said they'd give us a ten minute warning, so we will have time to use the bathroom, if that's what you're worried about!"
"Hey, the show starts when we say it starts," Yashiro claims, slamming a fist down authoritatively on his dressing room table and rattling the platter of chicken bones. "That's called building anticipation! By the time we get out there, we'll have the whole crowd ready to get their butts rocked off!" He slumps down onto the chair that Shermie has perched herself on, looking as relaxed as can be about the situation and taking his time to take in the view.
"You're right about that, buddy," he tells Chris as he leaves the chicken on the dressing table for someone else to deal with. "I mean, not everybody can be the full package like me."
Shermie's point only draws a blank look from the band's bruiser. "I mean, hey, I thought you liked animals, Shermie, but I won't feed the pigeons if you say so."
He taps his chin as he considers the question of the opening number for the night.
"Why don't we go with Bloody? That one always gets the mosh pit going."
"Eager to start and melt heir brains out, that's all." He answers Shermie's second question before answering the first. |"Yeah, sure, Mad fantasy is awesome." He smirks a bit. "Always is."
Then Yashiro gives his own take on starting. "Right on, they want us, not the other way around. Well, sort of." Then it goes back to the song. "Bloody works great, it will get them going for sure." He nods his approval to Yashiro.
"I don't think we will get many shows with that attitude, Yashiro" Shermie scolds, but her words are followed by a playful poking of her tongue from between her coral painted lips.
She doesn't even flinch as the fist makes contact with the plastic top of the dressing room table, so used is she to his angry outbursts. Thankfully the venue had the good sense not to use glass. Perhaps years of experience with rowdy rockstars or coked up comedians has taught them well.
"As for me liking animals, that reminds me!"
Bending down to below her own dressing room table, she reaches into the sizeable cage that's been placed there and takes out first one and then another hamster. Kissing them both on their furry little heads in turn, she sing songs "Bonsoir Achu, Bonsoir Ururi. It's dinner time!" She produces two small bowls of carefully chopped carrots and broccoli spears and then sets them down on the ground along with her pampered pets.
"Bloody it is then" she agrees with a nod.
"It is good that we start as we mean to go on."
"We can play Mad Fantasy right after. We'll hold off on Enter Sandman till the second half. Here, I'll write this down."
Yashiro grabs a pen from the dressing table and starts scribbling the setlist under the e-mail printout stuck to the back of his guitar.
"And don't sweat it, Shermie. Rock their butts hard enough and they'll always beg for more. Hey, do hamsters like chicken?"
'Origin of Hamster'
Satisfied that he's completed the setlist successfully after a quick glance-over, Yashiro nods and tosses the pen away.
"Alright. CYS is set to kill!"
Standing up to his feet, he raises his hands to his neck and cracks it noisily twice.
Watches as the French beauty takes care of her hamsters. Achu and Ururi are cool little critters. It's nice to have little lives to keep alive. It helps to keep one grounded in life. Yeah...
"So we're almost set to get this show on the road." says Chris. He grins and takes a peek at what Yashiro wrote. His grin gets bigger upon seeing all the hamster's references, but he would let Shermie tell him. If she tells him. "Keep up the great work Yashiro, what would we do without you." The grin slides back into a smile. "You too Shermie, we make quite the team." He seems pumped up for this show alright.
Satisfied that her hamsters are having their hunger satiated, Shermie takes the time to look over the suggested set list.
"Oh Yashiro! You wrote some new songs about hamsters" she beams. "How sweet of you to do that for us."
"As for hamsters liking chicken, I'd go with no. Besides the little bones might choke them." She frowns at this prospect though the furrows on her brow are kept hidden by the curtain of red hair.
A loud knock is heard on the door of the dressing room and a deep male voice with an East London accent comes booming through the closed door.
"Ten minute warning, guys. I'm gassed to see your show. I bet it's gonna be fresh."
"Merci" the keyboard player calls, scooping up Achu and Ururi to place them gently back in their cages and then preparing herself to perform.
"Hey, you two would be awesome even without me!" Yashiro declares, slapping Chris on the back. "Just not as awesome!"
He looks momentarily bemused by Shermie's enthusiasm for his writing songs about hamsters. "Alright, I won't feed 'em any chicken, then. Whatchu mean about hamster songs -"
The door is knocked on just as Yashiro is about to clarify the situation, and he forgets all about that. A scowl crosses his face. "Ten minutes? It was ten minutes ten minutes ago!"
Yashiro slams a fist down on the table with a determined look on his face, then slings his guitar over his shoulder.
"I'm not gonna let these losers make us wait! If I say we're gonna rock their butts off, then we're gonna rock their butts off, whether their butts are ready or not!"
Yashiro flings the door wide, storming out past the bewildered stage manager standing behind it.
"I don't care if you're gassed or empty! You got as long as it takes for me to have a wicked piss, then it's SHOWTIME! FUCK YOU, REDHEAD!"
The stage manager, who does not have red hair, ducks as Yashiro punches a hole into the wall next to his head before carrying on down the hall.
Chris looks amused, but he wouldn't be anywhere else but with those two, definitely. He looks satisfied when they get the warning it's going to start in the next ten minutes. He was ready. He was always ready.
Then he gets slapped on the back and has to take a step forever to keep his center of gravity. That would bruise later on. "We make a whole for sure." He also adds after. "The hamsters thank you for not feeding them chicken." He cracks his knuckles.
He is used to Yashiro slamming things with his fists, so he is no longer surprised when he does so. It's a routine by now. "Right on Yashiro." As he goes on his tirade about not waiting.
After Yashiro makes a hole in the wall, he looks at Shermie. "Let's do this, while the building is still standing." He winks and goes out of the room.
Log created on 09:36:51 02/05/2022 by Yashiro, and last modified on 10:43:15 02/06/2022.