A Small Change [Hollywood Undead]

A Second Time

The three band mates were busy causing chaos in the back lounge. Jorel making out with a random chick and a lady sitting on Dylan's lap. Meanwhile, George was staring blankly at the ceiling, his hand cupping his face.

George was wondering what his life has come to; hookers, weed, music, and cocaine. That was all he ever did. His childhood was a simpler time, he didn't have to worry about things like money or taxes, he didn't have to worry about his health and could eat whatever the fuck he wanted without having to worry about the effects afterwards, he didn't have to be wary of other people's feelings and he could be rude whenever he wanted to.

Why couldn't George get everything he wanted? Sure, he had everything a rockstar could ask for. But why is he still not happy? What is he doing wrong? Why is he still so unsatisfied with his life?

"Hey," Jorel repeatedly poked the older man's forehead. "George." He tapped some more.

The older man let out a groan, unable to respond properly. The post-cocaine depression starting to kick in his system.

"Earth to bastard," Jorel called out. "are ya listenin'?" He spoke louder.

"What?" George slurred, jerking his head towards the Italian descendant, attempting to focus on his words. "Wha's it?"

"Nothin'." Jorel looked back over to the woman who was dry humping his leg. "Jus' checkin' if your still alive." He said.

"Whatev'r." George's lips twitched, his heart pounding faster. Both from the drugs and because his sad, pitiful heart craves for love and affection.

A voice at the back of George's mind thought out loud. "Why has your life come to this?"

Of course, the artist's regretful mind. The one thing that kills creativity, the doubt that comes to the creator's mind. George's time was coming to a close end, he thought. "Lord, take me now."

Meanwhile, Arina had her mind and arms wrapped around Mikey. "Who's a cute lil' baby?" She babbled. "Mikey's a cute lil' baby!" She cheered.

The tiny hog made a small snorting sound.

Arina giggled in amazement. She's always been a pet person, having grown up in a neighborhood full of stray animals. She was always baffled as to why Aron was absolutely terrible at taking care of any kind of living creature. One time, Aron overwatered a cactus and it somehow split in half at the middle. Arina always saw herself as incapable of handling a child, well, obviously she babysat but that was the easiest way to get money other than lemonade stands and girl scout cookies but she saw them as a scam as a kid.

Somewhere at the back of Arina's mind, she always saw an image of her and a man with a young child, living in a small suburban neighborhood in a white picket fence-style house, writing a children's book with a cup of coffee on her work desk. Maybe with a dog or two, preferably huskies or golden retrievers. She shook her head. There was no way she was ever going to settle down, why on earth would she think that way?

"God, that's just stupid." She said to herself. "What do you think, Mike?" She asked the hog. "What should I do with my life?"

Mike let out two tiny oinks.

"Yeah, I dunno either." She pouted. "This rockstar life is amazing, but what's in it in the long haul?" Arina rocked the small mammal back and forth. She stared at the empty couch at the other side of the bus, Arina always wondered why the guys never used this part of the bus, aside from preventing the bus driver high. She was pretty sure there was a reason why she's the only one here, she just couldn't remember.

Another thing Arina wondered was Jordon. What's gotten into him lately? Something wrong with his coke? This morning, there was something very wrong with Jordy Terrell.