Thoughts of a Lapine Drummer
A lapine boy is going to his weekly band practice, and his contemptuous thoughts towards his bandmates run through his head.
Heavily inspired by Jared Dines's "Thoughts of a Bass Player"
The light-brown lapine boy was dragging himself down a dimly lit hall, sighing as he reached his paw up to a code inputter and input the code.
He was wearing a dark-blue long-sleeved shirt, along with a gray hoodie, and black pants. His emerald-green eyes scanned the rest of the hallway before him, glimpsing the regular gray wolf who was standing by room 42, which was the room he was headed to.
Band practice... he thought contemptuously. The place I have to go once a week to practice music that my idiotic band thinks up. Really, it's more just so the guitarist can play some gibberish notes, the bassist can complain about being under-appreciated, and the singer can complain about his stupid sore throat.
The bunny's ears flopped down over his eyes, and he passed the wolf, who had been previously busy on his phone, but looked up and nodded, smiling cheerily.
Oh, that's nice. The lapine thought. He actually acknowledged me. I'm guessing nothing more interesting then your worthless life is going on on all your social media sites.
His ears twitched as he sighed. _I guess it could be worse. They could actually ask me to play those power metal drums they were talking about yesterday... then they could know exactly how much I suck at them. _
He entered the room, immediately glimpsing a gray fox, who was holding a midnight-black bass with a light-brown neck. He was picking a couple of the strings with his paws. The lapine glanced over to see two other anthros. A bear, and an otter. The crimson bear was holding a microphone, letting it dangle from his paws carelessly. The otter was laughing with him, and a Tobacco Burst Fender Stratocaster guitar was hanging in front of him, suspended by it's strap.
Oh, yes. He thought. You guys continue to joke around, when, really, your jokes are really utter shit. So, I guess I don't care that you're not including me in them. I guess none of it really matters.
He spied the massive pile of drums near them, and internally sighed. _Guess I'd better start setting up. _
The lapine grabbed the nearest tom drum, and unlatched it, putting it on one of the stands, before doing up all the latches again. He repeated this process with the snare, and all the other drums. He slid the cymbals onto their stands, before sitting down.
"You done setting up yet?" The otter asked impatiently.
The lapine shot half a nod at him, but thought, Yeah, it doesn't matter. All you have to do is plug in and you're good to go. I hope you cut your stupid paws on those strings. He pulled out some drumsticks out of a box near him, and glanced at all his drums. He had two toms, one snare, two crashes, a hi-hat, a kick, a ride, and also a china, which was like an inverted crash.
The bear started singing into the mic randomly, muttering only gibberish, and seemed to be singing about going down to the bar after this was over. The lapine growled internally.
Every time that stupid bear opens his mouth, I want to shove my drumsticks down his throat, honestly. He thought furiously. Thus, an image came to him of the bear choking on two of his drumsticks. He smiled slightly. That'd be nice.
The bassist was barely heard, and he seemed to be thinking the same things as the lapine. Being under-appreciated despite being one of the most important members of the band.
I honestly can't stand the guitarist either, he just expects me to improvise some random drum riff for the guitar riffs he comes up with on the spot. I wish that a string would break and hit your eye, you stupid twerp. Go to hell. The lapine thought, hitting a few toms and lightly tapping the ride.
I wish he'd teach me the guitar parts slower, and suggested a few riffs for this thing, but when I asked last time, he threw a pedal at my head. That shit fucking hurt.
Later on, the lapine didn't bother pulling apart the kit again. He just left the room, and started to lock the things up. _I always have to lock things up. Those bastards just can't wait to go hit the nearest bar. Yep. Go drink and have fun. Not that I'd even want to come with you losers. _
He walked through the other door, leading down a hall, to the outside world. I waste my time, trying to better myself, and what do I get for it? Hardly enough recognition. And I'm not letting these arrogant jerks get me down. I can't give up.
I will not give up.
I refuse to give up.
This band will be my future, and I will let nothing stand in my way or push me down.
The rain slowly fell on his fluffy head, his ears flopping over his eyes, as the fox bassist approached him, frowning.
"You alright, love?" He asked softly, one arm snaking around his lithe body.
"Fine." The lapine muttered back, kissing the fox slowly and passionately, their tongues slipping over each other's. They broke apart after a few more seconds, and started walking back home, the rain still falling over the two un-appreciated creatures.
Hope you guys liked that.
Link to Jared Dines's Video (see note at beginning of story):