the beast ϟ

“Lonely?” Mike guessed, looking up again, fairly surprised. Bonzo was a fairly handsome man, as far as things went. Though he did look a lot like Mike, all things considered. “Lonely. What’re you talkin’ about, there’s girls all over the place!” 

It didn’t count, though, maybe. Having someone to sleep with and having someone to help with being lonely wasn’t the same thing at all. Being with someone didn’t, technically, mean being not being lonely. 

PARTIES. Cigarettes, alcohol, grils and plenty of fun. It was just like any other night really, but it was Jimmy’s birthday, he would be another YEAR OLDER, and everyone wanted to celebrate, even himself at the time. HE SHOULD have been at home with his small family, but it was too late for that. He was going to have a good time with the band, maybe take a chick home if it came to that. All in all good fun. 

❝I’ve always thought for my shite day we’d all be fucked. But so far I think so little of us are.❞  

Within moments of speaking he stopped talking to who he was with, excusing himself, and looking at the drummer for a moment or two. Jimmy looked puzzled for a moment. He didn’t know what the other would be doing, but he didn’t like the situation. 

❝Bonham.❞ He spoke softly, holding the drink can in his hand. The dark-haired guitarist didn’t have much to say at the moment, maybe he wasn’t himself. But that was only due to the fact that it looked like NOT MANY were having fun except for a SELECTED FEW. 

@bcnzc ​

     take one down... pass it around... the tune bombarded john’s conscience as he sipped at his glass of whiskey; his choice of poison for the night. vodka didn’t quite suit the occasion, he believed. bonzo occupied a love-seat, his eyes darting all around to try and find something to get into. he wasn’t going to cause an uproar to purposely ruin jimmy’s birthday party, but the drummer was bored out of his mind. 

“Hickville,” Mike agreed, nodding but pulling a face, as if it was a truly unfortnate place to come from. “That’s just a little south of Houston. Texas.” 

He looked at the man for just a moment or two longer, before his gaze dropped back down to his own feet. “You didn’t tell me why you were getting drunk,” he reminded, distracting his gaze just by watching his boots. Putting his legs out as far as they could go, too, almost hoping someone would trip. “You have a bad breakup, or somethin’? Lose somebody?” 

“‘Cause it’s easier to be nosy ‘bout other people’s business than worry about my own,” Mike answered, shrugging. “And ‘cause it’s a party, and you’re drinking. Alone.” It was sad, actually, imagining him just sitting there and thinking about some lost lover, or something. 

“I tried thinking, once,” he answered, not really bothered despite the fact that it sounded fairly insulting. “Got bored of myself.” Thinking was the sort of thing you did in bed, too late in the day. And it was, arguably, the worst time of day. Though it was best to just joke about it, he figured; it was better to just joke about everything. 

“Probably,” Mike answered, sitting down on the seat next to him though he didn’t get himself anything. Instead, he looked the man over, almost judging him. “Maybe you should try it, sometime. People might like you more, bein’ a chump would be a real improvement from what you got goin’ on, now.” 

He almost debated on taking the glass away, but didn’t see the point as there wasn’t much of anything left. So he left things as they were, instead asking, “Why ya wastin’ time on gettin’ drunk?” Mike drank, himself, though only when things seemed bad. When work was too much, or his thoughts got too crazy and he just needed to calm himself down. Drinking at a party, however, was odd; people drank for fun. And this man looked like he wasn’t just drinking to have a good time. 

     bonzo listened, taking it as an insult of sorts. he didn’t riled up, however; a change, for one. he even managed a small chuckle at the man’s words, but he shrugged at his final question. a sigh left him as his gaze lingered to the floor, his eyes almost lost in a daze. ❝ why are you so nosy? ❞ he asked  rather accusingly. after a moment of thinking it over, though, he sighed once again and shook his head. 

“That’s a real deep thing to say, at a party,” Mike noted, though he couldn’t really deny that part of him was amused. Which was a bad response to someone admittiong to being lonely, when he thought on it.

“You drunk?” he guessed, then; a fair assumption, he assumed. Though most drunk people didn’t admit they were drunk. 

     DRUNK. what a familiar word that was to the brit, but to be truthful; he was only slightly buzzed, although he had downed about half a pub in comparison. his tolerance, as you could imagine, was quite high. a grunt left his throat and he positioned a hand on his knee as the other clung to a crystal glass with only a droplet of amber liquid at the bottom of it. he almost glared up at the man, only wanting to seem intimidating.

🎵for me to shuffle my playlist and use my favorite line of the next song as a starter

                                                solitude :: black sabbath

@bcnzc    (   sc.  )

It’s  not  his  fault  that  she’s  grown  wary  of  drummers.  Blame  it  on  the  self -  destructive  percussionist  from  The  Who.  Moon  the  Loon.  One  weekend  with  the  infamous  musician  had  rendered  Pamela  exhausted  for  days.  It’s  a  roller  coaster  with  him,  I  tell  ya !

❛  Please  tell  me  you’re  not  like  Moonie.  ❜

     not like moonie? why, moonie was partially to credit for the way he evolved as a drummer, not to mention the style and fashion influence on bonzo. he understood, however. despite being his own kind of wild, he knew he couldn’t compare to the boisterous ways of keith. 

 ❛ hey, hey now. ringo’s only ours t’talk ‘bout yanno. he’s great, too; holds the beat jus’ like ya need ‘im too, even if he may not be so great at whatever it is ya do. wouldn’t say a bad thing ‘bout you either, mr. bonham. ya know like the rest of ‘em, ringo’s solid. ❜