When It Rains • Geetrick

1

June 18th, 2005
Columbus, Ohio
1st day of tour

The drums feel odd. Not... not a bad odd but an 'I haven't played drums in five years and I'm out of practice' kind of odd. The white skins take a while to get used to because they're a little stiffer than the ones I have at home. The rims sound different than what I used to play. The foot pedal takes a little bit of effort to push to hit the bass drum, a little more effort than what I had five years ago. Then again, maybe they're the same and it's just because I haven't played since 2000.

Either way, I'm screwed.

I haven't played drums in five years and Gerard just expects me to learn the drum part for Thank You For The Venom in less than an hour. God knows how long it took Bob to learn it but he's out sick in his bunk in the My Chemical Romance tour bus. So, I guess it's just me now and I mean... I think I'm doing alright. It's just a few crashes, a rock beat, a couple fills, a few empty spaces, more rock beat, lots of crash cymbal... fuck...

I turn up the volume on my earbuds, listening closely to the drum part because at this point, I'm too lazy to learn it over imitating it. I doubt I'll play this again so instead, I'm here copying the drum part in the song on Bob's drums in front of me.

Four, three, two, go!

I hit the crash cymbal once, twice, twice, twice, once, twice, twice, twice, rock beat for one, two, three, four, five, six measures, filler, stop, rock beat for twenty-one measures? No! Twenty-two.

"Shit," I growl out frustrated as I set down my drumsticks and run my fingers through my messy hair, taking a swig of water.

It doesn't help that he sets his drums out far enough away that I have to use my arms instead of my wrists (which is honestly extremely tiring).

I hear Gerard come into the back room from the stage where The Offspring is playing Spare Me The Details with a frown on his face as I try all over again, hurrying because I only have about... shit I don't know.

"How long do we have?" I ask, looking up to the black haired boy because I need to get this done. Now.

"Seven minutes," He replies, a bottle of water in his hand and a serious look on his face.

My eyes go wide at that. Seven minutes? Seven minutes?

"Shit!" I groan, now almost panicking.

"Dude, it's okay, man, calm down." Gerard smiles, laughing slightly,

"No! No! No! I haven't played in five years! You don't understand!" I yell out quickly.

I pull out my earbuds and shut my eyes, playing the tempo through my head before I'm slamming on the crash cymbal and bouncing myself trying to get myself pumped up for the show.

One crash, two, two, two, one, two, two, two, rock beat for six measures, good, I'm doing alright. Alright. Alright. Filler on the seventh measure, I can't go that fast! It's fine. You're using your arms, not your wrists, you'll do fine. Stop. Rock beat for twenty two measures, skip the fillers. Crash, crash, crash, crash, fast, fast, fast, fast. Filler. Quieter. Rock beat with fillers. More rock beat. Crash, crash. Louder! Louder! More rock beat. Filler, skip it, it's fine. Crash, crash, crash. Stop. Filler! Rock beat! Filler! Rock! Filler! Slow beat! Filler! Crash, Crash, Crash! Stop!

Crash!

Sweat is clinging to my back and chest as I pant and look up to Gerard who had a giant grin on his lips, taking another swig from his bottle of water.

"You'll nail it, my dude."