The Last Day


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  1. “What do you mean, useless?” Cora demanded, black brows furrowing into her pale forehead.
    “I mean when the Hell in the real world are we ever going to get a chance to dress up in costume and fuck shit up? Encourage people to be rowdy and disorderly?” Seth glared back at her, pulling his glasses down his nose to make eye contact.
    Cora scoffed, “Shows what you know. There are so many things in your real world that can be read about in an hour or less on Wikipedia. What can’t be? Experience. People skills. Charisma is partially natural, partially cultivated. How do they hire you at the Mac store? They don’t care if you know Apple computer shit. They hire you if you can effectively communicate with other people. And yeah, maybe the Mac store isn’t what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, but give me the ability to ace an interview over knowledge in my field any day. The knowledge can be learned. My-”
    “Uhh, guys, hate to interrupt, but we’re on,” interjected Billy, his arrival previously unnoticed in the now unnervingly quiet green room.
    Cora stood, picturesque in her fishnets, short black skirt, and red plaid top. Hair straight black hair shone in the dim backstage club lighting, brown eyes lingering in annoyance at Seth before ripping away from him. She grabbed her black Ibanez bass guitar and made for the stage.
    Not to be outdone, Seth followed immediately, pushing past poor Billy in front of him to get uncomfortably close to Cora in his old Megadeth shirt.
    The band before them was in the last few chords. Cora didn’t lose a beat when they stopped, whipping around to Seth and growling, “Just stay the fuck out of my way.”
    Billy pulled Seth back as the lead singer from Matereede finished up “… Some of the best friends I’ve ever met anywhere, ladies and gentlemen, their last show ever, Pilgrims and Runaways!”
    Cora was the first on stage, as always, her big, bright smile wooing the crowd immediately. Seth, not to be outdone, jumped and hooted on his way to the drums. Billy, in his flannel shirt and acid-wash jeans, just waved and held up his red Fender guitar.
    Cora made it to her spot and took hold of her microphone. The applause died down, after a few moments.
    “Thank you so much for coming out tonight guys!” Cora’s warmth was genuine. She gave them a moment to cheer and added, “And how about Matereede? Give them a big hand everybody!”

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