When On Tour
Dave laughs as Krist leans forwards. The anticipation is building for them all – nerves are lining their stomachs, but Krist more so as he bows forwards and throws up again. Kurt laughs loudly and zooms in as the sick splurges on the floor.
“Get that…” Krist gasps “fucking camera out of my face -”
Kurt laughs even harder, getting as close to Krist as he can. Dave is almost collapsed on the floor, as Krist tries to stop Kurt and puts his hand over the camera lens and pushes him away.
The camera falls, perilously close to the vomit and the view from the lens is sideways. Kurt’s shoe, Krist’s hand, Dave’s shoe.
The camera is picked up. Dave is holding it now; Krist has walked off, but has stopped to be sick again near the amplifier. Dave films him, and then pans the camera round to Kurt who has already started flicking vomit everywhere.
Kurt flicks vomit at the camera lens and laughs loudly at Dave’s disgust. He moves towards Dave, his fingers still plastered with the contents of Krist’s stomach.
“That’s fucking disgusting, Kurt,” Dave mumbles, smiling, from behind the camera.
Kurt gets closer; the camera shakes, and Dave shouts out and turns, starts to run, Kurt chases him, his fingers covered in the sticky sick and the camera moves, picking up the sounds of Dave’s feet slapping against the ground, his breathing heavy and panicked, but laughing at the same time.
Kurt’s laughter can be heard as Dave screams like a girl and, still holding the camera, he turns, filming a close-up of Kurt’s body, leaning forwards – his t-shirt blurs the lens and then he steps back.
“It’s in my fucking hair! That’s so fucking gross!” Dave shouts.
Kurt smiles looking straight into the lens and then raises his hand, covering it with the rest of the sick, smearing it into the glass.
No one wakes Kurt when he is sleeping. It’s not often Kurt gets to sleep and when he does its precious and valuable. Kurt does not return the jester that his band-mates so often show to him.
The room, in which they are staying before they can start rehearsal, is scattered with food and beer cans, coke cans and bottled water. The table is a mess; covered with empty packets of potato chips, candy wrappers, half eaten hot dogs, dented coke cans and a turned-over ashtray.
On the sofa, Dave is asleep. His arms are folded; his legs sprawled across the seating and his head resting back on the arm of the sofa. His hair is messy, straggled and lank. His mouth is wide open.
Fronting the idea with just a single look, Kurt glances to Krist and Krist is grins to Kurt, knowing exactly what he is planning. Kurt starts to place items over Dave – potato chip packets, coke cans – all the items from the table are rested over Dave’s sleeping body.
Kurt tries to contain his laughter as Krist crumbles up the hotdog roll and crumbs cascade into Dave’s long, dark hair. He remains asleep.
They tie his shoelaces together as tightly and as closely as they can. Kurt balls up some tissue and carefully places it in Dave’s mouth. He is still oblivious.
Then, Kurt picks up one of the hotdogs between his thumb and forefinger and very, very carefully unzips Dave’s fly.
Grinning like an idiot, he carefully parts the fly of Dave’s jeans and puts the hotdog – with the rounded tip facing up and out – in the opening. Then, he uses one of the mayonnaise packets and squirts it all over the end of the hotdog and splatters some over Dave’s jeans for good measure.
The rest of the hotdog is broken up and finds it way up Dave’s left nostril, by which time Dave begins to stir. Sniggering and trying not to laugh, Krist and Kurt take photos of Dave sleeping and just as he starts to wake.
Confused and tired, he frowns, wondering why his mouth feels dry and the scent of hotdogs is so strong.
He wakes fully now, spitting out the tissue and removing the bits of hotdog from his nostril, he sees Kurt and Krist laughing.
“Good dream?” Krist screams, laughing and holding his sides. Dave looks down and sees the hotdog, phallic-looking and covered with mayo.
He shifts, feeling himself grow annoyed, yet amused at the same time.
Kurt is doubled over, laughing loudly, but looks up in time to see Dave get up and then crumple over to the ground – his feet tightly tied together.
Kurt falls to the ground in a furious bout of laughter, cackling loudly and crying at the sight of Dave, with breadcrumbs in his hair, empty packets surrounding him and mayo on his lap and a hotdog peeking out of his fly.
“You’re not funny!” Dave screams, his body in a foetal position, but his face lightened by the grin he is flashing. “You’re fucking bastards and I hate you all!”
Krist continues to take photos, documenting every moment of the debilitated Dave, his stomach hurting from laughing so much. Kurt remains on the floor, screaming in laughter and after a few moments of struggling, Dave gives up, lying on the floor defeated. He has been yet another victim of Kurt’s Sleep Assault.
Don’t trust Kurt
Kurt has disappeared, as usual. Krist and Dave are concerned – they have ten minutes before the show starts and they have no idea where he is. Suddenly he appears, grinning, pleased and chirpy.
“Where have you been?” Krist asks.
Dave narrows his eyes. “And what have you been doing?” Knowing better than to trust Kurt’s expression.
Kurt shrugs and turns to the door. “Just getting ready for the show,” he smiles.
The smile Kurt flashes them, is not to be trusted. It is a look of pure misbehaviour and trouble. Both Dave and Krist know this and are left feeling unnerved by his expression as they make their way on stage to their awaiting instruments.
The lights go out, they are all in place and then, the lights go up, full beamed and bright, and Kurt begins to play.
Krist tries to, but finds his bass has been de-strung, only to be replaced with normal string.
The skins of Dave’s drums have been sliced down the middle and the symbols are covered in a brown, smelly substance that Dave does not care to investigate.
Kurt stops, trying not to laugh, the audience are loud but unsure but then, as Dave stands, and Krist turns to him, the lights go dim and two spotlights settle on them both. Seconds later – with no time to react, a shower of thick, red, gunge is released from above them and both Dave and Krist are covered in the red, smelly, sticky gloop.
Kurt screams with laughter and turns to the audience. “Could you give us a few minutes to reset?” He grins and then turns and walks off stage, leaving Dave and Krist to face the audience alone.