Vince Everett

Vince felt like a new man after coming out of prison. I mean, his hair had finally grew back into a pompadour loved by all, and not only that, he felt free. To top it all off, he could actually drink! Not the slop that the warden had made him drink, no, actual, mouth-watering liquor that he could use to was away all his problems.

Upon entering the first club he saw, he spotted you. He strutted up to you, taking a seat at the bar stool next to you. You occasionally caught his deep blue eyes staring at you. He only looked away when he realised you were staring at him again.

While engaging in an conversation with you, he pushed his fears aside and asked about the jukebox he had saw you write numbers on. After you had told him your job, he slightly shrugged. That makes sense, He thought to himself.

However, the conversation soon died out as the 'cheerful' owner, whom was called Sam Brewers, strutted up to the pair of you. Even more conversation was held about Vinces job and letter, and he could feel himself become more hyped for this job Hunk had put him up to.

"When can I start?" Vince readjusted himself in his seat, somehow keeping a pokerface in front of you and the owner.

"Oh, whenever you want." Sam said, shaking Vince's hand.

"Can, uhh, those guys play with me when I sing?" Vince asked, hiding his excited grin.

"...sing?" Sam repeated, "No, you'll work as a bar boy. Make setups and bring ice. So, Hunk taught you a couple songs? Swell. Be the life of the next party you go to. But, uhh, we don't have opportunity night here."

Vince could feel his expression slowly drooping. Didn't Hunk write it on the letter? Why isn't this old man who looks as if he had survived 30 wars from the 1800s listening to Hunk on this? And 'opportunity night'? He's just taking the cake now, isn't he?

Vince watched the saggy old man who he now had a grudge against storm away sassily. Come on! Who does he think he is, the King of Venezuela? Miss America? Someone needs to tone the old man's ego down just a little. And, boy, was Vince ready to..

He jumped onto the stage, despite everyone (everyone being you and the owner) telling him not to. He stumbled up onto the big stage, clearing his throat has he turned to face the audience. Sure, it was a small audience, but it was more enough to make the old man think differently, or so Vince hoped and prayed.

"Ladies and gentlemen don't pay attention to me and don't cheer me on the owner of this establishment thinks I can't sing so I gotta prove him wrong.." Vince clarified, now beginning to strum his guitar in a melody that was all to familiar for him.

"So, fill these lonely arms of mine..~" Vince sang, his voice accompanied by his soft melody of his guitar, "And kiss me tenderly..~" He slowly stopped.

Hearing a man's roaring laughter, he felt himself slowly loose his mind and succumb to anger. He stopped singing and playing his acoustic guitar for a second, looking up at the cigarette-wielding man.

"Jus' don't let me interrupt you, mister.." The Southern man grunted out, rolling his eyes as he continued to hold the E minor chord.

"I won't- AAAHHAHAHA!" The man bursted out into laughter again.

Vince tried to continue to play his song, but dammit, why was it so hard?! I'll tell you why, it's because of the fat fuck laughing and giggling at anything and everything. Vince finally let his intrusive thoughts win, and with a mocking giggle he jumped down.

"EH-HEH-HEH-HEH!" He laughed mockingly, jumping on the bar table instead of the stairs. Once again, he let out another mocking laugh once he was at the terrified man's tabe.

"AH-HA-HA-HA!" He mockingly laughed in the man's face before raising his arms and slamming his guitar on the table, breaking it to scare the man even harder.

He dropped the broken wood onto the table. With one last venomous glare, he stormed away. He shoved his hands in his pockets, stomping away. With his fit of rage, he could feel the red aura protecting off of him. Sure, it may have been a LITTLE exaggerated, but he did have a reason to!..That's what he tells himself, anyways.