A Day in the Life of Superflow (Short Story) - Extra Chill


A Day in the Life of Superflow (Short Story)

A Day In The Life of Superflow

They are all a mess from the night before, but today’s the big day. Superflow is set to play at a party tonight, a party full of crazy college kids and ridiculousness. Three out of four band members are still asleep, all at the same house. Jim, the guitarist, is on the couch. Sleeping, but still wearing his stunner shades from last night’s party. He rubs his eyes, and slowly rises to his feet.

He grabs an empty beer can off the coffee table and wings it over at Peter, asleep on the other couch. The beer can hits Peter in the head, but he doesn’t budge. He groans a loud, hungover, “what the fuck happened?” type of groan. He refuses to move, so Jim tosses another beer can over at him. This one's got a bit left in the bottom, and hits Peter straight in the balls. He jumps in pain and is now fully awake.

“Ow! Alright douche bag, I’m up.”

On the other side of the wall, Oliver is asleep in his bed. He’s the front man, the lead singer. He’s still got his gold chain hanging around his neck. His long hair that hasn’t been washed recently hangs at his shoulders. Jim and Pete creak open the door and sneak in. There’s half a forty on the desk, and Peter grabs it, taking a gulp.

“That’s exactly what I needed”, he says with satisfaction.

“Let me see that.” Jim wants the forty too. Pete hands it to him, slightly confused. Jim pours a bit on Oliver’s face and he opens his eyes.

“We gotta practice,” Jim says, handing the forty back to Pete, who graciously accepts.

Oliver reluctantly agrees to get up, and we hear the sound of a car pulling up outside. It’s Carlie.  She’s got the vocals that would make Oliver’s voice crack. Slim and beautiful, with one dread in her brown hair. She’s been awake for a few hours, doing yoga and walking her dogs.

The whole band is here. They gather in the “recording studio”, which is really just an oversized closet with cardboard pinned to the walls. There is graffiti and various quotes from their booze-fueled jam sessions all over the place. There’s also some vomit on the wall, and something tells us that Peter produced it. Nobody knows for sure, so it doesn’t get questioned. Or cleaned up.

The lights are dim, and Oliver stands at the mic waiting. Pete’s tuning his bass that he kicked over last night, while the rest of them warm up. Carlie sings scales in her chair, holding her tambourine. Oliver hums some rhythms and Jim cranks some chords to a Blink-182 song.

Pete strums some smooth baselines to signal that he’s ready. Oliver taps his foot and Carlie pats her tambourine to set the tempo. They’re starting this practice with some Grateful Dead, “Friend of the Devil.” Jim plays the riff at the beginning of the song, and the music begins to fill the room.

The sound from their instruments bounces off the cardboard, graffiti, and vomit covered walls and goes straight to the eardrums. There’s only a few hours before the show. Good vibrations please the mind. Superflow is ready to perform.


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