So, we got some genuine Fan Fiction submitted a few months back. Its pretty racy. To be honest, its really funny but a bit too full on for website (we’re a family band!…sorta). Anyway, it is too impressive to ignore so we have decided to publish the first half and you can read the rest of it here.
(ED’s note; Sam really wishes it was Luke in this fable.)
The Day at the Supermarket I would Never Forget.
by Joseph E. Harper
It was probably the best day of my life. And it was all because I had to go to the supermarket to get more muesli. Now I know what your thinking. So what? The Supermarket? What’s great about that? We’ve all been there. But I tell you what. This time was not an ordinary time at the supermarket. This was extra-ordinary.
It all started when I awoke in my king single bed. Summer’s lovely hot fingers had long been fading and I had chosen to start sleeping with my deep, navy, blue, mink, blanket as well as my regular sheet and duvet. BIG mistake! I should have realised that it was still March and in the morning I’d be drenched in my own salty sweat. Which I was. I don’t even need to tell you that this is not the way I like the start a morning. Especially because I knew for a fact I was running low on lynx body wash and would probably carry around a reminder of my hot hot morning in the way of an everlasting (or at least until I got more lynx body wash) scent or lite-odour. I decided to wear my blue and short-sleeve shirt. It’s missing a button so it reveals a lot of my chest. Usually I don’t wear it because I don’t like to come accross as a slut of a floozy. But today I just wore it. I dunno why? I guess I was just feeling a bit spicy. I also wore my black corduroy trousers which are extra tight and my favourite jandals.
I went into my kitchen and I opened my cupboard and I looked inside. I was hungry for breakfast. The previous evening I had hit to local Y with a few buddies and shot some hoops. That level of work-out left me pretty ravaged and hungry. So I was hungry. That’s when I saw it. There was no muesli left! How am I supposed to start the day without a big big big big bowl of HUBBARDS BERRY BERRY NICE MUESLI? Talk about bad news. Not BERRY BERRY NICE. If you know waht I mean (lol). I decided straight away to get my a into g and head to the supermarket. I dont know about you, but I find it real hard to start the bay without YCRs (YOGHURT COATED RAISIN’s)
The closest supermarket to my house in waterview is the countdown up in Pt. Chev. It’s certainly not much of a super market! I mean it doesn’t even have a deli or a bakery. I don’t like going there because it gives me the feeling that I’m slumming it. But it IS the closest so I jumped onto my longboard and headed in it’s direction. There was an odd feeling in the air. A feeling of raw and masculine hope. I was breathing it in through my nose and allowing it to run around naked and free and in my lungs. Today felt good in spite of my early foibles.
I got to the supermarket without trouble. I locked my longboard up and went inside. And that’s when I saw HIM. Standing a mere 30 foot away from me was Samual Flynn Scott from wellington rock and roll band, Phoenix Foundations. Don’t ask me why he was in Pt Chevalier, shopping for mangoes, but he was. He looked up and I saw his face. Handsome and beardy, he had the look of a man who could drop a man as easy as he could drop a twelver of double brown. He looked at me. “Am I staring?” I asked myself and averted my gaze. I looked up and he was gone. Was it all some lucid and firey dream?…
I maneuvered my way to the cereals. No problems. And then I saw my box. And indeed, it was my lucky day. There was only one box left on the shelf and it had my name written all over it. I reached out a tender hand, and then BAM! My hand collided with another. I guess I wasn’t person who’d run out of muesli. I craned my neck to see who my competition was and, low and behold, standing beside me was that swarthy sack of a man, Samual Flynn Scott! I had practically been holding hands with him. Without even realizing!!!
“Uh oh.” He said, with all the charm of a sumatran tiger. “Looks like we’ve got muesli issues on our hands.” He shot me a smile. His white teeth were like the ivory tusks of African Elephants. All glory and magnitude.
“I guess we do.” I said. Trying to play it cool.