Sure, it meant spending months at a time on the road. The hours were long, setting up long before the band arrived and staying long after they finished to pack up the gear and instruments. And when the band hit it big, it was pure adrenaline each night.
But that was then. Now the band was relegated to oldies concerts in high school gymnasiums. The the excitement had turned into tedium. As he reflected back on his life, he knew it was time to quit. There had to be more to life than sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll.
(99 words)
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.
“I will not have it,” Margaret insisted, “I’m embarrassed to have anyone come into our apartment. I know you’ve been working from home since this whole pandemic thing started, but you’ve got your crap spread out all over the dining room table and it’s ridiculous that we can’t use it for meals. I will not tolerate your mess anymore. I’ve organized all of your office supplies and put them inside the credenza. You can keep your laptop on the end of the table, but you need to keep your work area neat.”
“Hey, Sam, let’s head over to Leo’s Tavern out on old route 13 for a few brews,” Zeke said.
“Look at that,” Jeremy said. “That’s sacrilegious!”
Harold sat at the picnic table at Coney Island looking over at the old Steeplechase ride. He flashed back to his youth when he would spend his summer days riding that roller coaster. But he had to face the fact that his youth was gone and, between his vertigo and his bad back, he could no longer enjoy rides like that anymore.