Crash
My best friend is an animal. Watching him cut loose on the drums under the spotlight, with a screaming crowd is pure joy. I never thought I'd be here, and I'm humbled, all the sudden. Eyes welling like a pussy. I shake my head and scream at the crowd away from the mic so I do'nt distract them from what Tommy's doing.
He's a machine, and it's awesome to watch.
When he finally winds down, the audience is so hyped, I wonder if they'll find the rest of the show boring. But all I can do is walk up to Tommy and give him the hand-clasp hug over my guitar, clap his back once, and pray that look in his eyes is the hunger to do this again. Pray that maybe, one day, we'll be Crash Happy again. Because, as much as I wanted to do this show, being on stage without him is like having a hole in my gut.
"Ladies and gentleman, Tommy Bartollo!"
They shriek again and Tommy shakes his head, waving at them as he walks offstage.
