“Yeah, I still don’t get it…”
“It’s simple. We are a punk band with an authority-like name which is a meant to inspire people.”
“Yeah. But wouldn’t the Anti-Regulators make more sense?”
“Never mind, Steve.”
I hate being late. I normally try to be punctual, but force beyond control seem to always be in the way, like Steve passing out and forgetting to pick me up at 6:00. I’m not mad, but I hate being late. Steve’s eyes were still a little red, but he drove like he was an instructor. I sat in the passenger seat, looking in amazement at his textbook skills behind the wheel. Maybe some people are better when they are high. I wouldn’t be familiar with the feeling because drugs were never my thing.
Steve’s old station wagon pulled closer to the club and the line of people outside was very visible. Most were there to see a band that has been a around for a while, but we got onto the bill and were the opening act, which was nice. Steve pulled into the alley next to the club, were our trailer lay still, attached to Michelle’s van that she got from her dad. He’s letting us have it for a while. Across from the van was the door to the back stage. In front of it, chatting away, were Michelle, Stan and Jimmy and two other unfamiliar figures. Steve stopped and killed the engine, pulling up on the emergency brake after taking out the keys. We exited the car and approached the others. Stan took immediate notice. “About fucking time, we go on in 10 minutes.”
“Hey, I can’t help that Steve passed out and forget to come get me.”
“Steve, you were passed out?” Jimmy asked him as he approached.
“Yeah, man. I ate too much after I got high. That new shit is strong.”
“Whose watching the store?”
“Sam is, isn’t she?”
“No! Today’s her day off.”
“Oh shit.”
“Fuck!” Jimmy exclaimed as he ran to his car and started the engine, feverishly heading to his store.
“Oh, man, I hope I don’t get fired.”
“Naw, Jimmy did the same thing 4 months ago, only he was wasted.” Stan pointed out.
“Let’s get going.” I said as I venture backstage to our equipment. Most was already all set up on stage, with the exception of Michelle and Mine’s guitars, which were all tuned up. Michelle pulled the strap over her neck and asked a quick but important question. “What are we playing first?”
“Teen Spirit.” Stan answered rapidly. I could tell he was excited about this. This was out first real show in a while. It felt so professional. We were used to garage show with our friends. It all felt so real to me, like a dream come true.
We took the stage. Stan sat behind his drum kit, hitting random drums as he tested his equipment. I approached the microphone and spoke into it. “Hey, We’re the Regulators.” A subtle applause rung out. “This first song is an oldie, but goodie.” I stepped back from the microphone and strummed my guitar a couple times, then stepped on the distortion box next to my feet, turning off the distortion too my guitar and giving it a clean sound. The crowd quieted down and I began to strum the first few bars. The crowd applauded upon recognition and began to clap. Stan interrupted their cheers with furious pounding drum. His became a blur, banging up and down like a hammer. Michelle’s long, blonde hair was everywhere as she thrashed around to the song. The first part ended and I sang with my long, drawl voice, matching the style of Kurt Cobain, which is not my style as everyone knows.
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” ended as fast as it began, and we went into our own songs. We were really showing off what we could do in these songs. Very technical, but very punk-ish. The crowd was really digging our tunes, which was cool. They were relatively unfamiliar faces, which meant that we were attracting a new crowd of people. Our set ended after 15 minutes and we exited the stage, going out the back and loading our equipment. Jimmy had returned, relieved to find the Sam was indeed working today’s shift. Steve let him have his ‘I told you so’, then immediately let it go. Friends are strange.
Jimmy, Stan and Michelle all went back to Jimmy’s apartment to play an online computer game that they liked to play and smoke some of that pot Steve was talking about earlier. Steve and I were very hungry and decided to get something to eat before we joined them. Steve drove to a small diner, saying he was craving a giant hamburger and fries, which didn’t sound bad at all. We entered and sat down, both ordering the same thing. We then talked about the show until the food arrived. “Man, that was a great set.”, Steve exclaimed excitingly.
“Yeah, tonight was a good night.”
“Did you see all the chicks eyeing you?”
“Yeah, I saw them.”
“How come you never ask any of them out, man. I haven’t seen you with any women since you got here last year.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m really not that interested, you know.”
“Are you gay?”
“No, I’m not gay.”
“Are you sure, man. Gay people are cool, you know.”
“I’m not gay!”
“Alright.”
“I’m just picky, I guess.”
“Well, try to un-pick-ify yourself.”
“What?”
“Lower you standards man. You will never get anyone if you keep comparing them to your brain lady.”
“My what?”
“Brain lady. It’s what I call the women in your head that loves you and says all the right words and never seems to upset you in any way. She’s all in your head, man, and you need to let her go.”
“I guess.”
The burgers were excellent. My nervous stomach finally settled with that meal. I decided to spend the rest of the night relaxing and staying away from any kind of drug behavior. I have enough bad habits. As Steve dropped me off ay Stan and mine’s loft, I checked my cell phone messages. One, from my insurance. I was in a car accident two weeks ago and my car was in the shop. Insurance is going to cover it all, thank god. I got nailed by some psycho broad going 50 miles per hours. She only hit me on the side of my bumper, but buckled and flattened my tire. Damages aren’t too bad. At least I’m alright. Car should be ready by next week. Until, I need chauffeurs.
I turned off my cell phone and placed it next to my mattress. I laid quietly in bed, hoping for a good dream. No dreams have come to me lately. It’s a little disheartening. One, however, was pretty good. It was with her again. The beautiful brunette. This time, we were both indulging in the cushioning of a soft, plain white diaper. She wear a plain T-shirt and a gorgeous smile, something I always think about. We did nothing but hold each other in a plain white room. Things were so bright, much like it was before in my last dream. Then in rattled in. What Steve said. Lower my standard. Let go of her. Was I ready? They say you should never give up on your dreams, but was this so far out there that it was beyond my reach? Maybe. Stranger things have happened.
Late night, early morning. That what it seems like lately. I seem to be only getting a few hours of sleep, then I’m awake for 20 hours. Amazing, but the least of my worries. I’m going to buy underwear today. I haven’t wet myself in a month and a half. It feels amazing to know that I’m finally back into control. I haven’t worn a diaper in a while. A real diaper, I mean. The big, white, plastic kind. I loved those, but I need to move on. I need to hide this, put it away and forget about for a while. At least I feel comfortable with it again. That was, to say the least, a farfetched idea because I’m not sure if I will ever be comfortable with it again.
I stumbled through the loft, seeing Stan’s body lumped over his mattress, dead asleep. I would think he was dead if it wasn’t for his loud, monotonous snoring pattern. I’ve grown so used to it, I don’t hear it anymore. I sat at our table and opened my laptop, logging onto our music page on Myspace. Several new messages and friend request, mostly from last nights show. It began to dawn on my. This could work out. Sure, it was a slow process, but steady. Then an idea popped in my head; Record contract. I think Stan mentioned it a while back, but now it seemed tangible. Get more demos done, show them around, sign to a label and record a record. It wasn’t that hard. No too hard for those who want it badly, and Stan, Michelle, and I definitely wanted it badly.
Stan arose moments after I closed my web browser and started playing solitaire. He walked in a zombie trance to me and my stared at my laptop. His mouth opened wide to let out a big yawn, but among the sound of his voice, words came through. “You need to play WOW.”
“No, thank you.”
“It’s fun, man.”
“Sure it is, and so does having a social life.”
“Hey, it’s not I get sucked into it.”
“Yeah, 10 hours a day isn’t overkill.”
“That was once and it was on my day off.”
“Yeah yeah. You going to drive me to Alders?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I was only in the store for five minutes. I’m lucky that my size hasn’t changed and the number is still ingrained in my head. Stan wanted to go to Best Buy afterwards and get a movie that he likes. Some indie movie that I’ve never seen. He stormed away from the clothes store and went all the way to Best Buy, parking rather crookedly. We entered the cool store and were greeted by the greeter, standing at his station looking like he has better stuff to do that isn’t work related. Stan immediately wondered away, browsing the movies up and down. I had nothing I really wanted to buy, but I made it seem so. I looked through the CD’s, finding nothing interesting. As my fingers sifted through the selection of music, feet plotting the ground next to me caught the corner of my eye. The recognizable blue shirt signified the person as an employee. The long hair and protruding chest signified it as a woman. She was restocking CD’s and rearranging misplaced ones. I ignored her because I didn’t feel like falling in love. Whenever I see a girl, it seems that way. I look at her face and I imagine the fantasy. I crack a joke, she laughs. I ask her out, she says yes. We date for a while, I ask her to marry me, she says yes. We are madly in love and life could not be more textbook perfect.
But I know, I always know. It’s not real. It’s all in my head. As soon as I look at her face, I will picture the fantasy, say nothing and live in regret. That’s how life goes. But what if I don’t let it happen? What if I do say something, perhaps? Could this fantasy become reality? Maybe my dream can come true, like it did for Stan, Michelle and I. Jesus H. Christ, Brian, pull yourself together. That was a damn coincidence. Shit like that only happens in dreams and movies. Stuff that is not real. In reality, I’m going to marry some wench and waste my life living in regret. Dreams don’t come true, only coincidences. “Are you finding everything okay, sir?”
“Yeah.” I said as I looked up at her. Her red hair laid brushed and unmolested. Over her nose, glasses laid still. She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, and she was real. She was standing in front of me. The girl from my dreams was standing in front of my, talking to me and suddenly I was speechless. I stared, not trying to be discrete. “Sir?”
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine?”
“Okay.” She said as she walked away. I watched her intently, step by step. Dear god, what just happened.
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