Ben and Leslie walked into the Hotel, after a long, long, long, long vacation. Ben's face was a flushed orange-yellow, a thick tan that covered every inch of his body aside from a little strip covering his groin. Not that you could see that. But you could imagine it. If you imagine that shit. He wore a red and black gingham Ben Sherman shirt, with grey chino's. His hair was much shorter than before he'd left, with shaven sides and spiked on top. Leslie was a different sight completely - she wore a long, black coat. The coat was thick, and would of looked out of place on her relatively frail body if not for her shaved head and dark makeup.
They walked in, and sighed.
There was nobody there.
Nobody at least, that the two Punk legends could recognize. A crowd of young whippersnappers were flirting awkwardly in the corner, and Ben heard the name Brandon being thrown around. With a name like that, Ben thought, he's bound to be a prick. Leslie was more busy eying up Hannah Beth, her eyes flitting between Beth's body and Ben's eyes. Ben was a cheeky prick. Ben approached the barman, who was probably the only recognizable face around here.
"What's it take to get a fucking drink in here mate?" He said to the barman with a knowing grin on his face. Ben had been sober for more than a year now, ever since his overdose he hadn't touched anything more than a paracetamol. The barman smiled widely back, and put his hand on Ben's shoulder.
"You fucking junkies, always coming back for more!" He joked, pouring out Ben and Leslie an orange juice each. "So how the fuck have you been mate?" He said to Ben. His language was appalling.
"This and that man this and that. Been out to Bolivia for a few weeks, lived out there in the jungles with a very pleasant tribe of cannibals, but when I woke up one night strapped to a fucking spitroast we got out. Then we went to Africa, did the whole continent but we didn't spend long in any particular country so we was only there for like three months. Then we flew to Thailand, and to Japan, and finally we ended up in Oz where we spent a couple of months. Funny story, bumped into those fucking freaks, what were they called? The one's that used to worship that robot? Ah I dunno, I think they spat in my drink at a bar then fucked off when I went for a piss. Nice guys. But we spent quite a long time over there just recording music, it was fucking awesome. There are some really killer lads out there in Oz we just jammed for hours and days on end. Mad. But yeah, glad to be back I guess. Really wanna make some fucking music though now man know what I mean?" Ben said to the barman, who looked thoroughly enthralled at Ben's story. The barman just nodded.
"You rockstars, all think they get out the game, but the longer you're out the more you wanna get back in. It's like a fucking cycle. Look at The Rockers, they haven't had anything decent in fucking decades, but they spend a few weeks on a hiatus and they're back again for another 'final tour'. I dunno what they expect the world to do, give them a fucking standing ovation? I don't even think they ever won a Birdie once." Ben just laughed. "Anyway, enjoy your drinks mate I have more rich people to attend to. Come back soon man, don't be a stranger!"
