fandomhigh | When Words Fail, Music Speaks; Tuesday, Sixth Period [ 04/07 ].

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!club: music

When Words Fail, Music Speaks; Tuesday, Sixth Period [ 04/07 ].

Chad had ~~handwavily~~ sent out emails and messages to everyone that the karaoke contest had been canceled for this week, promising more details at the regular club meeting.

"I felt," he explained, "we could all use a little break from zombies, so I postponed the karaoke contest to next week, and I hope no one minds. To make it up to you, I brought birthday cake."

Since it was, after all, still his birthday.

"And I'll still take anyone up on the drinks I promised when we're done, if you want. Until then, I figured we'd play. Music is good therapy, you know."

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Angela wasn't a member, but she was on the lookout for Chad, and since he ran the music club she had a hunch (just a tiny, tiny one obviously), that this was the place to look for him.

"Oh, hey, Angela," Chad said, lifting his hand in greeting.

And that was the giant cheerleader she'd been looking for.

"Chad, hey," she greeted with a brief wave in return as she made her way to him. "Just who I needed."

"I was supposed to come talk to you... a while ago." She blamed the zombies, amongst other things. "About this Art Crawl--" ignore the fistpump compulsion "--idea. We were hoping maybe some people from here would want to get involved."

She should probably explain what the hell she's talking about. Maybe she'll get to that.

"Sure," said Chad.

And then there was a notable pause before, "What is it?"

"We're -- we, being the art club -- taking over a warehouse in town, turning it into a gallery of sorts for an evening or so, and along with the art, we're getting some of the theatrical types, and musicians in on it. Hoping maybe someone would want to DJ, or play, or... anything, really."

"It's in a week or so." Nice and last minute, good going there, Angela~~'s mun~~. "Sorry about the late notice."

Chad, for a moment, looked about halfway to saying something of approval, but then seemed to stop. His brain was switching gears and, sometimes, that took a while.

Once it was complete, though, he frowned slightly. "Um, well..." he said, with a hesitant grunt.

"Too last minute?" she asked, wincing at that hesitation. "Or not your thing? I would get that."

"No, no," Chad shook his head. "I'd really love to do it. I love that stuff. It's just..."

He ducked his head, rubbing his neck sheepishly. His voice dropped to a low rumble, which actually didn't do nearly as much as he had hoped for making it quieter. "Last time I DJ'd for a thing like this, we got attacked by small fluffy animals. But maybe it'll be okay. I know how to send them off this time."

"... were they small and bitey and fluffy?" she asked after a moment. Chad was a big guy, so she couldn't quite see how he'd have trouble dealing with that sort of thing.

"They were, like, all cute and fluffy," Chad held up his hands, in the approximation of cute and fluffy, to assist with the detailed description, "and then, I played music, and they weren't so cute and fluffy anymore and a lot more bitey."

Angela pulled a sympathetic face. That was bound to knock your confidence in these things a little.

"Maybe they won't come out this time?" she tried. "Around here you kind of run the risk of that stuff, if you play music somewhere, or not."

"Yeah," Chad agreed. "And, this time, like I said, I know how to stop 'em. Good music made them all bitey, bad music turned them cute again. So I'll just make sure I bring some...." He shuddered. "Top 40s Pop."

Angela had to laugh at his revulsion. "My dad would like you," she decided. "Similar attitude in that respect." Also, a similarly gruff musician.

She, on the other hand, would listen to absolutely anything.

"Music's really important to me," Chad explained. "It's Serious Business."

"So I hear," she said with a smile. "Usually accompanied by something about remembering to always play it in the key of G demolished."

For all that he was her father, she still didn't quite know what significance that particular nugget of wisdom held.

Chad grunted a laugh at that, which included even a little bit of chuckling, too. "That from your dad, too?"

Angela nodded her confirmation of that.

"It probably makes more sense to you than it ever has to me."

"You're not much into music?"

"I'm into it by association," she replied. "Too much time around my dad and the band, and that whole musician thing. I listen and watch, that's all."

"Then at least there's still that," Chad said with an approving nod.

"I stick to the literal artistic side," she said. "And leave the musical to the people who are actually good at it. It skipped a generation or something."

"Yeah," Chad grinned, just slightly. "Maybe. Either way, I can totally DJ for the art thing. Thanks for thinking of me. I'd offer to have the whole club play, but we don't really have a good selection of instruments to do much"

"That's completely fine," Angela said, shaking her head. "And thank you for doing it, that'll be awesome. I'll uh, try and get them to keep the small animal quotient down for you, if I can."

She probably couldn't. But she could offer to try!

"Small animals are okay," Chad said, because he loved small animals, dammit. "Just not ones that go bitey."

"I'll do what I can," she said with a laugh. "Thanks, Chad. I'll let you get back to your music here."

Re: Mingle and Eat Cake -- 04/07.

senor-chado.livejournal.com - 2009-04-08 02:17 (UTC) - Expand

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