Well, our protagonists (sorry about the spelling of that and the fact that I actually use that word. Occupational hazard of taking English in summer school. *shudder* -- God) made it to Happy Valley Goose Bay (be it noted that on the way Lexus wrote a song about HVGB. It goes like this: "Happy Valley Goose Bay! Happy Valley Goose Bay!" and so on and so forth. The lyrics will be up, eventually) and it was happy, and valley-y, and goose-y, and it did have a bay.
The Band was still confused about where in the nine layers (floors) of hell and seven layers (bathroom stalls, actually) of heaven were they supposed to perform. But Dorian had taken the wheel and was slowly but surely driving to wherever he was supposed to be going. The others just looked out the window and made commentary.
"Hey, a sushi bar!"
"Ooh, cheap sleazy tatoo parlour, can we go there later?"
"7-eleven! I want a slurpee."
"I hate it here. I hate this car. I hate you Dorian."
"I hate you too."
"I hate you more." (Oh yes. No foreshadowing at all here. -- the Angel)
"You're such an ass."
"Will you two shut up?"
The rest of the ride continued in an uncomfortable silence.
Dorian pulled to a stop (which, be it noted, was very hard to tell from his driving. In fact they sat there for a couple minutes after Dorian had gotten out of the car because they thought he was still driving) at a soccer field. Fields. Four of them.
Griffin had gotten out of the car and was angrily unloading instruments. Julian and Lexus rushed forward to rescue their beloved guitars. The drums and keyboard were not as lucky. (Poor darlings.) But they survived.
The band was set up on and around some picnic tables.
Julian looked around and raised an eyebrow.
"This is it?"
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