The Dabblers' Drummer

Tonight was the night.  Mel was going to give his band mates the ultimatum.  He sipped his PBR and then wrote down the word “ultimatum”. It was a cool word and if things went sour, it would be the name of his new band. Mel scoped the party.  His band mates had not arrived yet. Just as well, he thought. It gave him time to go over the epic speech he would give them.

   The party was hosted by Tony, the lead singer of the Zingers.  The Zingers were the hottest punk band in South Philly. If you knew punk, you knew the Zingers. And if you didn’t know the Zingers- you’re a fucking asshole.  Tony hosted an annual Anti Holiday Party every Christmas season. The Zingers put on a basement show where they sang songs about anti consumerism and Santa not being real. They made the songs catchy and simple so children could sing them. This year, the Dabblers were invited to open for the Zingers. It was a huge deal. And Mel wasn’t going to blow it. 

Mel had been in the Dabblers for five years now. He basically founded the band, though Stacey would probably have something to say about that. But it was Mel that got the conversation going. Mel and Stacey met sitting next to each other in detention. Mel started drumming on his desk to fill the silence. He hated the quiet. Using just his pencil and his palms, he laid down the sickest of beats.

            Stacey turned to him. “You play drums?”

            “Obviously.” Mel said.

            “We should start a band.” Stacey said.

            “No talking.” Old Man Henderson said.

            “Can it, old man.” Stacey said. “We’re making history.”

            “I’m thirty two.” Old Man Henderson said.

Mel smiled as he thought back on that day. They had been inseparable ever since.  But now she was holding him back. Mel went to the fridge to look for a lime. Stacey had taught him that Coronas taste better with a lime in it. But it was Mel who realized it wasn’t just Coronas. PBR’s taste better with a lime too. That realization encapsulated their relationship, Mel thought. Stacey had taught him a lot. But Mel had taken that knowledge and expanded on it. There were no limes in the fridge so Mel went back to his corner of the kitchen. He went over his speech in his head.

            “Sup, Mel.” It was Nina. She never missed a Zingers show.

            “Sup.” Mel said. “You get a new piercing?”

            “Yeah, this one.” Nina pointed to the third earring on her left ear. “Where’s the rest of your band? You guys are going on first, yeah?”

            Mel shrugged. “Probably still looking for parking. You know how it is.” Georgey, the bassist, was driving his van. Parking would be a bitch. 

Mel remembered when Georgey bought the van off his stepdad. They needed the van for their gig in New Jersey. It was their first non-basement show. Georgey’s stepdad told him he could have it for $500- or Georgey could wrestle him for it. Mel volunteered to wrestle his stepdad in his place, but Georgey just gave him the $500 and they were off.  Mel and Georgey shared a pee bottle on the way. They didn’t have time to stop at a restroom so they emptied out a bottle from a case of water they had in the back.  They forgot about it and Georgey almost drank from that bottle a month later when he was really thirsty. Almost. 

            Mel smiled as he thought back on that Jersey show.

“Well, they better get here soon.” Nina said.  “Tony wants to start the show.”

Mel swigged the last of his beer.  “I’m their drummer, not their dad. Excuse me.” He went back to the fridge to grab a PBR.

            I could’ve taken Georgey’s dad, he thought. Just another example of his band not believing in him. He swigged on his beer and went back to his corner. Thankfully, Nina had left. He could go over what he was going to say. He still hadn’t talked to his band mates since the incident.

“I want to sing!” Mel had told them. It was a big moment for him.  He had been practicing and he finally felt ready to let the band know. And why shouldn’t he sing? He wrote half the songs.

            “Sure, Mel.” Stacey had said. “I could use a backup singer.”

            He played it cool, but inside Mel was shaken like a soda. Backup singer?Clearly he was a lead. How could they not see that? Was it because drummers aren’t usually lead singers? That would just make them stand out more. Had they not heard him singing in the van? His voice was unique and powerful. He wrote half the songs! Mel just nodded and said “Cool.” He hadn’t spoken to them since.

Well tonight was the night. Either they let him sing lead on his songs, or they could find another drummer. 

Mel watched Tony part the crowd as he entered the kitchen. He walked up to Mel.

            “Hey, Tony,” Mel said. “You get a Mohawk?”

            “You know I did.” Tony said. “Where’s your band? I’m ready to start the show.”

            Mel finished his beer and crushed the can.  “They’ll get here when they get here. Let’s do this.”

            Tony nodded his head in approval. “Very punk rock.”

Mel sat down at the drum kit and looked out at the cramped audience.  The ceiling hung low and if you were over 6 feet, you had to bend your neck at an awkward angle to hang.  Mel swung the mic stand to face the drum kit. 

            “Good evening.” Mel said into the mic. “The rest of the Dabblers couldn’t make it tonight. I’m Mel.”

            Mel decided to play one of his favorite songs he had written. It was about the world. He hated the way Stacey sang it. She always went too high.  He would give this song the gravitas it needed.

As he got into it, Mel realized it was very hard to sing and drum at the same time.  It was probably the reason there aren’t a lot lead singer drummers. He could only do one or the other, not both. So he sang a little-

            “When the world turns its back on you…”

            Then drummed a little-

            Du KAT, Du du du kat!

            “You hop on its back and take a piggyback ride...”

            Du KAT, Du KAT KAT!

            At this moment in the song, Mel was rudely interrupted.

            “Hey, man!” It was Tony. “You suck. You can’t drum and you can’t sing. Now get the fuck off my stage.”

            Mel was unsure what to do.

            “Get the fuck up!” Tony said.

            Mel got up.

            “And tell your bitch ass band this is the last time they get invited to the Zingers Anti Holiday Party. You pathetic little-“

            Tony hit the crash cymbal with his head. Not on purpose.  Georgey had arrived and just shoved Tony into the drum set. It sounded great.

            “We didn’t wanna go to your stupid Anti Holiday Party anyway.” Stacey said from behind Georgey. “I fucking love Christmas.”

            “And Chunakah.” Georgey chimed in.

            Tony slowly pulled himself up. 

             Stacey called out to Mel. “Run!”

            Mel urgently followed his band mates through the crowd. No one cared enough to chase them, but they ran anyway. They ran six blocks until they reached Georgey’s van.  They stopped to catch their breaths.

            “Fuck those dingle berries.” Georgey’s panted. “You killed it.”

            “Thanks.” Mel said.

            “Come on. Let’s go to the diner.” Stacey said. She opened the van door.

            “Hey, guys, real quick?”  Mel looked at them. Stacey and Georgey looked at him too.  “I just wanna say Happy Holidays. And um- I love youse guys.”

            They stared at him. Finally, Georgey burst out laughing. “The fucks gotten into you, man?”

            “Nah, I’m just joking.” Mel assured him. “But, you know- it’s like- one of those funny cause its true jokes.”

            Stacey walked over to him and put her arm around him. “That was a very nice joke, Mel. Come on. You can have shotgun.”

            Mel hopped in the front. His foot hit a water bottle as he shut the door. He scooped it up. Gotta stay hydrated, he thought.