In The Record ShopMature

  "Hello boys!" That loud, overly cheery voice could only be coming from one person. Sure enough, John Michaels, another of my close friends sits down right next to where Keith and I were standing. Even though it was cold outside, he was still wearing is usual bomber jacket, faded t shirt, jeans, and sandals. His dark hair was tousled from the wind.

"How's it going Johnny? I was worried you were actually going to leave us alone for an afternoon."  I didn't look up, but I inwardly smiled when I heard Keith snort.

 "I don't know Ricky, I kind of missed him. Things were just about to get boring in here." Keith nudged John with his tip of his boot playfully.

 "Yeah yeah yeah..." John mumbled, pushing away his foot. "If I would have known you were gonna be assholes I would have told Ozzy about the good news first." His tone was smug now, which wasn't unusual. He was always holding things above our heads: information, news, and even our wallets considering how damn tall he was.

 Keith was absorbed in his albums again, so it left me to take his bait. "What's the good news then John?"

 "Well I don't know if I should tell you now Rick... You're not being very kind to me." His tone was musical and expectant, waiting for me to give in to his annoying game or challenge him. He is 23 and 6 ft 3. I am 21 and 5 ft 10. What the hell am I supposed to do?

 I dropped the Cream album and grabbed him by the neck. "Tell me what you need to tell me or leave us alone!" He rolled his eyes, used to the way I respond to his dumb ploys.

 "Temper dear boy, temper! You don't want to have your pretty face all flushed when you meet our new drummer do you?!" John grinned at my dumfounded look.

The End

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