please, please, please let me get what i want

by a fish called sid



|an| As promised. Love to the reviewers. Warning, written under the influence of The Vines.

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To be honest, I didn't think he would actually go through with it. I thought it would be another one of Randy's crazy flights-of-fancy that he gets whenever he has some pent up emotion he needs to express. He never goes through with them, it just makes him feel better to imagine he will.

I guess he was serious this time; this must have hurt something deep inside Randy to actually get his motivation going. The only other time I know of that that's happened was when his parents disowned him for being a rocker and he opened the record store as a big 'f-you' to them. I'd always thought that Randy's bragging about being a close personal friend of The Clash's was all BS. I mean, he did know some really famous guys back in the day-Black Flag, Sonic Youth, The Butthole Surfers-but The Clash was British and he'd never left the Southeast. But I guess it was true, because nothing else would cause him to go all All-American Road Trip on us.

Randy was what I liked to call a 'true believer'. He had been one of the very first guys actively involved in the indie-rock/punk/hardcore scene in the 80s. he had seen it all and had known everyone. He'd published a wildly popular fanzine out of his basement and had roadied for The Butthole Surfers for years. Even after he'd seen some of the best bands sell out or be torn apart by drugs or death, he still believed in the music. He still looked up to his heroes and stayed humble, even though he was somewhat of a legend himself. He had a goofy, smiling face that hadn't aged much despite his years, and his mini dreadlocks, whose color changed from pink to orange to purple, were currently blue. The contrasted starkly with his usually non-descript wardrobe, which usually not much more then ripped jeans and a tee from his collection of gas station tee shirts.

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I woke up the next day to two bodies jumping on my bed as my clock radio blared out that Puddle of Mudd song, "She Hates Me". I groaned and opened an eye to find Aden sitting on my legs and my boss cross-legged on the end of the bed. I was instantly awake.

"What the hell is this? A love-in?" I asked groggily.

"Nah, we're going to London, remember?" Aden said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, right." I rolled my eyes. "Man, who turned the radio on? I fucking hate this -song-."

"But it's so fun!" Aden insisted in that campy voice of his.

"I'll go pack your bags for you. Aden, try to make Finn get up," Randy said, walking out of my bedroom to find a suitcase. Aden slid under my blankets and snuggled up to me, stretching his long frame like a cat.

"Come with, Finn."

I was all ready to say no. I lived on my own, so it's not like my parents would've been a problem, but I'm chronically anti-social. I wasn't sure if I wanted to live with two other people for God know how long, even if they were the only two people I genuinely loved. So I had been planning on being a party pooper. But I couldn't, not when Aden implored so earnestly of me. Maybe if it was Randy who'd asked I would've stood my ground, but I couldn't turn Aden down.

I sighed. "'Right, then."

I felt him smile into my chest, then look up at me with his Craig Nicholls, pixie-like face. "Fank yoo, Finn," he murmured, burying his nose in my PJs again.

"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked, giving his head an affectionate pat dispite my feelings of impending doom. It was so funny how he was the larger of the two, yet wanted to curl up on top of me.

"Because you smell all Finn-like." I rolled my eyes. A statement typical of Aden.

Without warning, he suddenly stood up, seized my arm and pulled me out of bed with all the force in his arms. "C'mon, get dressed, we gotta hit the road! We're gonna drive up to Boston to take the plane to England, your lovely home country, because rates are cheaper up there or something," he rambled on, helping me undress because I was having a hard time doing in myself in my sleepy state.

Wait, did I hear him right? We where driving from Athens, Georgia to Boston? With Aden and Randy? Oh, -that- was going to be fun. Randy was a notorious cheap ass- God knows what disgusting motel he'd have us stay at. If we didn't just sleep in our car on the side of the road. I almost argued that I wasn't going to go just then, but Aden was already unbuttoning my shirt, helping my half asleep self get dressed.

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Boo-yah. Review. And find me a prom date while you're at it :]