Do You Know Where The F@&$ You Are? You're In The Jungle Baby! You're Gonna Die!
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Welcome To The Jungle!
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Everyday situations featuring America's Most Dangerous Band.
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Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own The Gunners. I only own the ideas to each...
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Scenario:
You were alone at the Troubadour after you're blind date turned out to be a jerk.
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Abbreviations:
Y/N: Your Name
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'Please, let this night be over already...' I desperately thought to myself, breathing out a small, heavy sigh as I stirred my Jack and Coke in pure boredom.
It was another typical Saturday night here in West Hollywood.
People were bustling with excitement inside the Troubadour, chatting about their nonsensical lives, and drinking until they had enough alcohol in their systems. They were the usual young party-goers searching for a good time.
And I felt I was the only one left out of the circle.
So far, my night became a disappointment the moment I accepted a bribe to go on a blind date with my co-worker's cousin, Troy.
'Big mistake. Huge!...'
I admit in the beginning Troy portrayed himself like a decent guy. He was funny, polite, cute, and had a great personality, but it was all a facade.
He was only using his charm to sweet talk me in order to get between my legs, and I rebuffed him.
Troy, now with his ego deflated, ditched me at the bar for a ditzy bimbo with plastic, fake breasts. And to be honest, I could care less for a guy who acts like a complete dick.
"At least the band playing tonight doesn't sound like crap..." I muttered under my breath, taking a long sip of my drink as my eyes trailed over to the band performing on stage.
They introduce themselves as Guns N' Roses, and hearing their rock infused music was refreshing than the glam bands regurgitating the same old shit along the Strip on Sunset Boulevard.
The band were a group of five hedonistic looking men, who clearly weren't faking themselves by their sense of style and music.
Each member looked pretty attractive, but the only one who caught my attention was the ink black, curly haired guitarist, whose long hair covered the entirety of his face.
From the bright lighting fixtures on the stage, I could see he had copper-kissed skin, covered by his mostly black attire. He wore a Led Zeppelin band shirt, ripped up jeans, and black cowboy boots. His wrists adorned silver bracelets, on both his biceps were inked with tattoos, and on his head sat a large top hat.
