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“Meet at Pete’s house. Now.” Joe heard his brother Sam’s voice come through the cellphone. Before he could respond, the hangup tone beeped and he stared at the screen. The fuck is his problem? He slid his phone back in his pocket and began walking on his way over to Pete’s. They’re probably gonna start hounding me about how bad my bass is again, he thought bitterly. His steps fell quick and heavy in the crisp and cool autumn weather. It isn't bad…
At last Joe arrived at the place his brothers demanded he meet them and opened the front door.
“Hey, piss-head!” Sam called mockingly. Hearing that name made Joe scowl with irritation.
Pete walked in the living room with a beer bottle in his hand. He lifted a hand to wave at Joe.
Sam stepped up to him and beared the bad news, “So…you’re out the band—“
“—We’re tired of your whining every time we try to go on tour or when we talk to you about your bass skills,” Pete interrupted.
Joe couldn’t believe it. This was outrageous. He yelled, “What the fuck? Why do you guys never want anything to do with me? Even when we do work on the music, it’s you two always bitching about my playing!”
“Shut it bud.” Sam blurted, turning his head at the motion of Pete lifting his beer bottle in his hand and launching it towards Joe.
The bottle hit him square in the face and shattered on the floor. Thankfully(not), it didn’t break on impact when it hit him, but it still was a nasty hit. Joe’s cheek and nose throbbed with blunt pain.
With tearful eyes, he shrieked at his brothers, “FUCK YOU!”
He swiftly turned and left out the door, sprinting as fast as he could to get away from the house. He ran and ran, until he made it about three blocks from Pete’s home. Looking back, he confirmed that nobody was following or watching him then slowed down to a speed walk. The run just about gassed him, he was wheezing while walking aimlessly around town, hoping to get lost from his cruel brothers and to find somewhere else to go.
Rounding various turns and intersections, Joe seethed with rage. It’s not his fault he only knows how to play three different melodies on bass! It’s not his fault he only knows one string! At least on a good day he could use two strings. His brothers only hated him and wanted to criticize everything he did.
Every time he made a slight mistake, he was scolded. Every single song he tried to play for, he was told to do more takes, like the first one he did wasn’t already perfect! Everything Joe does is perfect and he should never be challenged. Anyone who disagrees is a BITCH and they’re stupid and deserve to DIE. His brothers are just jealous that he’s gonna go so much further in life! He’s so much better and they don’t wanna admit that! They just wanna steal all his fame! In fact, Joe is so perfect that even Trent Reznor would let him lick his cute little toes! Oh, that Trent Reznor… Joe drooled.
On his angry stroll, Joe found himself at a big intersection with stop lights and lots of cars. He didn’t even wait for the light to tell him he could walk. He just started his sauntering across. They should stop for me anyway, he thought. He took his sweet lovely time walking across the street. Surely everyone would stop for the almighty Joe Loeffler.
The sound of a large engine grew closer at rapid speeds. No worry, Joe thought. Whatever it is, it’ll stop for me. Still walking at a snail’s pace, he didn’t pay attention to any of his surroundings and only looked at the other side of the road. By the time he noticed what was coming, he was already too late. A flash of steel and glass consumes Joe.
A huge, silver truck speeds past the stoplight, without a care in the world that it has flung Joe further down the street. The blow was too powerful for him, and he was unable to crawl away in time for the truck moving thirty miles over the speed limit. Joe Loeffler is no more.