The Last Of The Real Ones // Patrick Stump

1. Growing Up

"Ronnie, where the hell did you leave my bass?"

As I looked under my bed, my bandmate, Ronnie came in the room.

"Why would I touch your bass? I'm a guitarist." He asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"That doesn't mean you didn't touch it." I Said, straightening up. "We leave in half an hour, and I need my bass."

Susan came in. "What's going on?"

"My bass is missing."

"Can we get a new one? We should have the equipment in the van already." She mumbled, running her hand through her blonde hair.

"But it's my lucky bass.." I whined.

"There's no such thing." She hissed back. "Just grab your stuff and we'll go get a new one."

"No! I can't just replace it like that!"

She picked up her microphone, just sticking it in her backpack since the stand was likely already out in the van. "Come on, guys, we're already late."

I bit my lip and followed her out to the van, where Alex was already sitting in the passenger seat.

"You guys have taken long enough." He said, bringing up his Pepsi can to take a sip of the slightly caffeinated liquid.

"I lost my bass." I whined.

"And she blamed it on me." Ronnie Said.

"Get a new one." Alex mumbled.

"But it's my lucky bass!"

"I've heard the word 'Bass' far to many times in a matter of three minutes." Susan Said.

"You just don't understand the bond I have with it." I Said. "You don't play any instruments."

"I mean, if I lost my voice I'd probably feel the same way, so I get it." Susan Said. "But we don't have any time. We'll be late if we don't leave now."

"How the hell do you lose a bass in the first place?" Alex Asked.

"Ronnie did it!" I Said.

"Holy fuck, Get in the fucking van!" Susan Shouted.

I bit my lip and climbed in the van, Ronnie following me to the back. Susan got in the driver's seat, then looked back at us, her eyes full of absolute and unforgiving rage.

"Now, stop talking about that stupid bass!" She Said. "If I hear that word again, I'll drive us off a bridge!"

Ronnie, Alex, and I all stayed quiet, and Susan nodded, pulling the car out of the driveway.

Sure, maybe this was childish behavior, which I'm certain has led you to believe that we're either toddlers or reckless teenagers.

Ha. Wish I could go back to being a teenager, which was quite enjoyable despite me spending most of those days depressed. But alas, I am now thirty-three, and my band mates are either a few years older, or younger, than I am.