(Author’s note: I plan on getting to comments this weekend. Now that the case I’ve been working on has completed (at least, this part of it), I’ll be able to focus on getting things done correctly and won’t be as tired. Otherwise, enjoy today’s fictioneers!)
by Miles H. Rost
“We’re going to practice in… this?!“
Marcus sighed, knowing that Trini was going to say what she said.
“Wait until we get inside. I think you’ll be surprised.” “Are the others here?” “They’re setting up inside.”
They opened the creaky door, and slid into a small corridor. The walls and doors nearby were padded with soundproofing material and carpeting.
“How did you…” “Just wait, Trini. The best is yet to come.”
Opening the door, they entered the Thom Bell style control room, with the studio opposite the glass.
“Who says we’re not resourceful?” Marcus replied. “Damn…” Trini muttered in awe.
(Author’s note: I was off for a month. I’ll be honest, work got hectic and things just got really buggery. I am happy to be back, though, as today the weariness has been removed (with a change of case.) Here’s today’s fictioneers!)
by Miles H. Rost
A vinyl record careened by Luigi Binalli’s nose.
Hearing a commotion, Binalli had entered the radio studio to see the great Giuseppi “Gus” Lombardo frisbee The Eagles Greatest Hits album against the wall.
“Stupid Americans!” Gus spat, while shattering a copy of Chic’s “Good Times”.
“Gus! Why are you destroying our records?!” “They stole our songs! They took Tozzi’s song and ruined it!” “They’re making Italy’s music world known!” “They’re destroying it! Can they not leave our music alone?!” “Not if Tozzi’s getting royalties.”
Gus’s eyes grew wide, as he threw a Donna Summer record at him.