"Lars! Open the door! We know you're in there!"
Phil banged on the hotel room door. "I called you like three hundred times, jackass! Open up!" ...using Tim's cell phone, nonetheless. He had given his cell phone to Larry to use just hours earlier and it was never returned or even used to call another band member.
"I don't think he can hear ya, Philly," Robby said quietly. "He's probably hungover again."
Phil, Robby and Tim were all outside of the hotel room, and they had been standing awkwardly in the hallway for ten minutes, trying to get Larry's attention. It was 1 AM and they were all getting very tired.
"Larry, get out of bed!" Tim kicked the door, leaving a visible indention.
Robby and Phil backed away from the door in shock.
"What? I can pay for the damages. I paid the guy that threatened me to get his nose straightened." Tim shrugged. He then dusted off his shined black dress shoes and made sure they weren't scratched.
"I guess..." Phil said, inspecting the splinters sticking out of the door. Neither Phil nor Robby approved of Tim's ways of keeping people quiet, but neither ever said a word for fear of being added to Tim's list.
A low pitched moan came from inside the room.
"Oh, oh! He's getting' up!" Phil pointed down at the bottom of the door. A light had just been turned on and there were shadows of two feet inching closer to the door.
The door handle wiggled and then cracked open.
"What the hell, guys?" Larry was not a pretty sight, standing there in the doorway, hunched over, eyes dilated, shirtless and very obviously still drunk. He was carrying the hotel's dark red blanket over his shoulder, and it was drooped over him like a cape. "What day is it? Where am I?" he uttered. He then took in Phil and Robby's concerned expressions. "What? Did I miss something important? I didn't do it on purpose."
"What in the world were ya doin' earlier?" Robby questioned, tilting his head.
"I...have absolutely no idea," Larry answered. "How long have I been here?"
"That's a good question," Phil said, crossing his arms. "You left all my stuff out there for strangers to take off with! Good thing I saved the shoes! And HELLO, you had my phone with you! Where is it? I paid good money for that!" Phil began to explain how the situation led to him having to use Tim's dinky flip phone but was rudely interrupted by his idiotic bandmate.
"Ohhh dude! Did I go to that party? That must have been wild..." Larry grinned stupidly for several seconds, then looked over at Phil. "I musta lost your phone there, sorry."
Phil's immediate response to the loss of his phone was to raise his shoulders and start yelling. "You what?! I should give you a piece of my mind! You're lucky I'm too polite to start a fight in a hotel while people are tryna sleep."
"Haaa..." Larry pointed to Phil, his sarcastic response unaffected by any liquor, "Sure, Phil. Sur—oouuuchhh what the-" his left arm began to sear in pain. "That freakin' stings like a bitch! 'Hope I didn't get in a fight or nothin'." He threw off his blanket and looked down at his burning arm.
"Aw Christ, Lars." Tim's jaw dropped.
Robby covered up his face. "How do you not remember getting something like that!?"
"Well, if you're willing to take whatever drug's out there-"
"How in the hell are you gonna play for our concert with THAT!?" Phil screamed, pointing at Larry's bright red arm. He had no sympathy at all towards the pain Larry would feel the next day; he was more worried about the rhythm guitarist's appearance. None of the other bandmates had tattoos that Phil knew about, and Larry was going to throw off the band's visual attractiveness with his new body art. This was unacceptable.
The majority of Larry's forearm was covered in fresh ink. He had managed to drink so much he couldn't remember getting a tattoo. "Haha, you got me!" he shrugged, palms up. "But whoever picked out this one sure has good taste. I like it."
"You're out of your mind, man!" Robby shouted. "You're not goin' to be able to perform with that on yer arm! I have the mind to smack some sense into you."
"Yeah, and you locked me out of the room I'm paying for!" Phil added.
"This has got to stop, Larry," Robby continued to lecture him. "You can't be comin' in at all hours of the night with all sortsa highs and lows. You need to be stable."
"You just can't have any fun, Rob," Larry said, chuckling to himself.
Larry's three bandmates just stared at him in disbelief.
"Okay, well...get yourself back to bed, buddy. You're gonna need lots of rest-"
"Or maybe a swift kick in the ass," Phil interrupted Tim.
Tim sighed. "Larry, I hope you'll be ready for the concert. We can't perform without you."
"Psshh, I'll be fine," Larry said. "It'll be a piece'a cake."
And with that, Larry collapsed under the weight of his own stupor.