aristotle;

Scout laughs with him and sits back in her chair, “I bet they would. That’d be a fun picture to have floating around the internet. Our PR would be thrilled.” She can imagine the phone call she’d get. They’re supposed to lay low, not punch people. “Yeah, I know,” She runs her fingers through her hair. “Do you really plan to go six months without playing for people?” Scout didn’t even know if she could do that. She gets not doing it right now, as they just go home. But the whole time? She (along with the fans) would go nuts.

Armie groaned. “I don’t want to hear from PR for at least a week Scout, promise me that. If I get another call about one of us ending up on the cover of every trashy magazine I’m going to quit the band.” He was kidding, of course, but he’s been berated enough for a lifetime. He was just a kid, he should be allowed to make mistakes. “Oh god no. Give it a month and I’ll bored of this whole normal thing and start jamming on street corners.” Armie couldn’t picture his life without music anymore. Sure it got overwhelming at times, but if had the pressure of tours and managers taken away he knew he’d find his passion for the art again.

Scout snorts, holding her caramel latte in her hands as she watched the people around them. “If someone does, I swear to fucking god I’ll punch them.” Sipping her drink, she looked to see if anyone would go up, or if there’d be no one for a little while. How boring. “Before you got here I had half a dozen people asking me if we were gonna play….”

Armie laughed, leaning back in his chair. He didn’t doubt the bassist, she had a way of expressing herself with her fists. “If you do I’m going to have to fireman carry you out of here. But I think everyone would applaud you.” Armie sighed, bringing his drink to his lips. “We’re on a break, I wish people would realize that.” He loved performing, he wouldn’t be where he was if he didn’t. But it was nice to have a break from all of the pressure.

“It’s dealt with already, though I imagine it would be quite a moment to feel yourself flung across the room. I may have been twelve years old but even then I knew how to correctly sever the connection between myself and said spirit. Imagine if I hadn’t though, like, if I could have been possessed and shit. How crazy would that have been?”

“Oh, so it’s been gone for a while then. I don’t think I could be able to do that, I’d just let the ghost chill in my room, eat my food, do what ghosts do. Possession is the scariest thought ever, like what if it made you kill someone? You’d go to jail, you can’t tell them Old Man Wiley from down the street took over your body to get revenge on his evil neighbor or anything.”

    tumbling off his skateboard, he’ll roll over on to his back, hands immediately cupping over his nose.“ah, fuck !” noah yells and lays there for a moment. there’s blood gushing from his nose and he it’s starting to drip on to his shirt. noah flipped his hair back and pouted in the sun. “did you get that on camera?” he asks, looking over at the other with a frown. 

  “Nah dude, I wasn’t filming you,” Armie assured the guy. “That happens to me all the time. I remember I was boarding drunk and fell off and broke two of my toes it wasn’t pretty.” He reached into his pocket to dig around, see if he had anything to help the other guy with his bleeding. “Um, I have this,” he said, holding out a semi crumpled receipt. “Dunno how much it’s gonna help.”

“That was possibly the worst bus ride of my life. A child was screaming, the guy next to me smelt like pepperoni and the girl across from my threw up all over the aisle. I feel like I need a drink, or three.”

“That sounds like something that happens in a tv show, not real life. That sucks though, if you want I can sneak you my bottle of fireball. Nothing says you need to get over a horrible bus ride like whiskey shots.”

“You know that feeling when you’re ready for a quiet night in, but your phone just keeps beeping, and then when you check your messages it turns out to be some random guy’s nude picture? Yeah, me too. I don’t know what’s more disconcerting, him not double checking who he’s sending a picture to that could potentially ruin his life, or the fact he thought an emoji of a monkey was the correct visual accompaniment to his dick.”

“Wait, so it wasn’t even for you? What a dick, how do you accidentally send the wrong person a dick pick? If I were you I would’ve sent him back like, a disappointed emoji. Let him know his junk isn’t all that. Who even sends emojis with dick pics too? This guys sounds like a loser.”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever had a weird experience with a ghost, but there was this one time when I was pretty sure I unleashed a poltergeist in my bedroom closet when I was like, twelve? I was so scared but, like, it was also so fucking cool? I swear that house has been haunted since, though, like, shit fell off shelves left and right, man. It was tense for a minute.”

“Oh man you do not fuck around with that kind of shit. I remember at a party once someone whipped out a ouija board and I was out of there in ten seconds flat. You should call in exorcist or something, next thing you know it’s going to be you flying around the room and shit.”