Sam: Temper TemperMature

We had decided to hold our first practice session together at five in the evening. When the time came, I took my guitar case and headed for the practice room. While I was approaching the entrance, I heard Emma's voice coming from inside.

"It's right here in the register book." she was saying. "5 pm: Emma and Sam. We have the room booked. You should come back later."

I went in and recognized the four guys to be Brian and The Kooks from last night's party.

"First come, first serve, babe. That's how it works around here." Brian replied.

"But that's not the rule!" protested Emma.

"Listen, I make the rules around here. My father could buy and sell this whole damn school if I told him to."

Emma seemed to give up and turned around. Catching sight of me, she gave a weak smile and I walked up to her.

"I don't know what to do," she said. "Maybe I should complain to the head co-ordinator."

"Don't bother, we're in no hurry." I reasoned. "We'll come back a little later tonight, okay?" She smiled and nodded.

I walked up to Brian, who was fixing up the amplifier, to ask him if they'd be done in two hours.

"Hey..." I started.

"Listen, freak," Brian interrupted. "I'm getting tired of this. Either take your girl and that excuse of an instrument that you call a guitar and get the hell out of here, or I'm gonna make you get the hell out of here."

I smiled. I guess it's a strange thing to do when you're angry, but I've done it all my life. People who know me take it as a dangerous sign when I smile for something that's not funny. I guess I have a bit of a nasty temper.

Living on the streets had taught me many things. One of them was how to throw a punch. Hell, you can't survive on the streets if you don't know how to throw a punch.

Brian never saw it coming.

The End

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