"I'm in WHAT with my WHAT?" My best friend of many years said, scrunching up his face in astonishment. The amusement was evident in his expression. I looked up at him, pouting ever so slightly.
"Well I think it's very well written and it definitely has a lot of potential," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Brian rolled his eyes, and John gave me a funny look. I glared at them both. "You two are going to regret doubting me when this song blows up! Besides, it's better than any bullshit either of you can write." I picked up the notebook that holds all of Brian's works in progress. "You call me sweet like I'm some kind of cheese. That's ridiculous, what's it even supposed to mean?"
"It's fine, what are you on about? It's also tons better than 'I'm in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile'," Brian shrugged, John nodding in agreement. I scoffed. I could not believe they refused to take my masterpiece seriously. At that moment, Freddie walked, or should I say strutted, into the room, flaunting his white... top? Should it even be called that? Ridiculous.
"What are you children bickering about? It is 6am and we have got to get to the recording studio by 8! I have a few brilliant ideas for the new song," Freddie proudly stated.
"Fred, you're talking about your... cowboy song, right?" Brian snickered.
"Say what you please, poodle, but this song will be a hit, I can feel it," Freddie snapped, then strutted away to finish getting ready. John, Brian and I all exchanged glances. At least we were on the same page about one thing.
As I poured myself another cup of coffee, John went to his room to get changed and get ready for our long day of recording and Brian lingered a bit longer at our kitchen island where we normally eat. "What is 'my hand on your grease gun' supposed to mean?" He said as I finished filling my mug and turned to face him.
"It's a metaphor, Brian. I swear I am not having sex with my car," I narrowed my eyes at him. He threw his hands up in defence and left the room. "This band is absolutely ludicrous," I said aloud to myself.
"ROGER I HEARD THAT," Brian shouted. "DON'T FORGET OUR WALLS ARE THIN." I smiled and went to go get ready, cup of coffee grasped in one hand and my precious song in the other.
