A Small Change [Hollywood Undead]

A Fantasmagical Journey

So our knightly hero, Sir Charlie Scene of Californialot is on a fantasmagical journey to find the ancient Mexican temple known as Taco Bell located in the kingdom known as Portland, Oregon. Along with the Arina Chloe, a rebellious but religiously faithful nun who has rejected the idea of a toxic theocratic government in trade for spreading the word in a safer manner with less... sacrifices; minstrel Jonathan Tears III who is a bard rejected by society in search for a true love, and lest we not forget, Sir Charlie's trusty steed, Big Deuce, whom Charlie found nearly starving to death in an abandoned stable.

Together, they look for the antediluvian artifact known as the "Crunchwrap Supreme®" which will grant the four anything they truly wished for from deep down their hearts.

Bardsman Jonathan Tears III pointed towards north "Look, there it is!" Alas, after nearly a quarter of an hour, they have finally reached their destination, Templo De La Campana De Taco.

"Fuckin' finally!" Big Deuce neighed in glee.

"God, how hard is it to find a Taco Bell?!" Arina Chloe, the clergy wailed, throwing her hands in the air. "Fifteen fucking minutes!" She solved her own riddle.

"Why did they even have to relocate?" Jonathan Tears III scratched his head, his free hand placed on his hip.

"I mean, there's still a Taco Bell, so that counts." The knight made a less than futile attempt to calm the three down. "C'mon, let's just get a take-out and run back to the ballroom, the guys must be fuming by now."

"Ehh," The bardsman shrugged. "they can wait a few minutes."

"Can they?" The knight tilted his head.

"Nope!" Jonathan Tears III declaimed in ironic glee.

At last, our heroes journey is not closing to an end, from the wretched lake of the caffeine merpeople, to the numerical monk of the black market. The long voyage was truly worth it, but it was the friends you make along the way is what truly matters the most.

Our heroes entered the grand sanctuary with the utmost poise and composition. "Where the fuckin' tacos at?!" The clergy calmly inquired.

The folks inside the place of worship looked at them rather oddly. "Please refrain from swearing." One of the guards requested.

"Fuck outta here, maaaaaaaan." The nun hushed the guard. "We finna get this shit, yo." She cracked her knuckles.

"Whaddya mean you're out of Crunchwrap Supremes®?" The bard yelled in anger. Before the merchant could have anything else to say, Jonathan Tears III interrupted. "No, then you might as well not have anything else!"

"George..." The knight, with all his power, tried to sedate the angry bard.

"Dude, bro." Big Deuce followed suit, using his hooves to prevent Jonathan from doing any further harm.

"Consume a phallus, f'r art thou a rampallian wench!" The bard cussed, pointing a finger.

The stallion decided on taking charge of handling the resisting merchant. "We'll just take a Mexican Pizza, thanks." He sighed.

And so it goes, the four puts their journey near to an end. Although they didn't get exactly what they want, the memories along the way was truly the real Crunchwrap Supreme®.

"Well, that fuckin' sucked!" The bard huffed, crossing his arms.

"It's okay, we still got ourselves some Taco Bell." Arina Chloe shrugged.

Sir Charlie Scene felt a quivering sensation in his pantaloons, his farspeak! (cellphone) Sadly, he could not reach it, for his hands were too full to carry anything else.

"Lemme do it." Arina Chloe had held both the carriers of the Mexican Pizza and the trades from the medieval 7 Eleven on one arm. With a stroke of luck, Big Deuce has somehow convinced the nun to haul the Mexican Pizza. "It's Dilly."

"'Yo where the fuck you at, homie?!' in all caps with three angry faces." Arina Chloe spoke aloud. "'If you ain't here by five minutes I'mma cut ya dick off!' In all caps again plus an emoji of a knife and an eggplant." She continued. "Oh, he also sent a middle finger, an angry emoji with the censor bar in the mouth, and another middle finger."

Jordon could've sworn he heard a record scratch when Arina said those following text messages from Dylan out loud. God, he was so caught up with Taco Bell and 7 Eleven that he forgot about sound check the entire time! What time does the actual concert even start anyway?

He shook his head. "Oh, shit! We gotta go now!" Jordon sidestepped his way to the front of the three.

George's heated expression quickly mellowed down. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?" He grinned. "They can wait a little longer, y'know?"

"Are you sure about that?" Jordon turned his entire body to the taller man.

"Nahhh." George shook his head.

"God fucking-" Jordon cut himself off. "It wouldn't kill any of y'all to be even the slightest bit early, would it?" He winced, expecting negative feedback.

George looked like he was about to give a menacing glare, but instead, he gave what seemed to be a mixture of a smirk and a smoulder. "Well, I could flex my guns in front of the audience again..." He fiddled with his imaginary beard.

"Great!" Jordon gleed, a worried expression plastered on his face. "Well? Let's get outta here?" He breathed deeply, anxiety creeping up his back.

A few minutes passed, luckily they knew how to retrace their steps and wound back up to Mcmenamins Crystal Ballroom. Even more fans showed up and cheered for the four, asking for photographs, autographs, and even their sweat. Sadly, they all had their hand full in a literal manner and could not spend much time with them other than some quick Hi's and whatnot.

"Late," A shirtless blonde man onstage said. "as always."

"Hey, it's called fashionably late for a reason." George defended. "What do you expect?" He lowered his shades.

"I expect all of you to be earlier than..." The man gestured the four. "this."

"We're always like this, what's  the difference?" Arina sipped on a Starbucks cup. "Ew, it's cold."

"Maybe we should've went to Taco Bell first so that the Starbucks wouldn't have gotten cold." Aron bit a hangnail on his finger.

Jordo bit the inside of his cheek. "No, we should've went to 7 Eleven, then go to Taco Bell and then go to Starbucks." He corrected. "The newly brewed drinks can save a slightly cold meal."

The blonde stranger shook his head in shock. "You guys went to Starbucks and Taco Bell?!"

"And a 7 Eleven." Aron meekly stated.

"Well, tickle my asshole pink!" The stranger put his hands on his sides. "I don't give a shit where any of you went! As long as you stick to the schedule!" He ironically added ecstatic enthusiasm into his voice.

"Fuck he schedule, man." George brushed the man's words. "We're rockstars! Not train conductors or some shit!"

While the three were arguing about time management, Jordon crept up close to Aron. "Hey, who is that dude?"

Aron was about to give a confused expression, but shut his mouth instead. "That's Tye, our touring drummer."

"Oh, okay..." Jordon nodded his head, turning around. A large silhouette blocked Jordon's view, he jumped in surprise, letting out a tiny squeak that made his ego crack slightly.