The words “a month” kept on ringing in my head, as I saw all the new faces looking around. No one knew who anyone else was, or what was going to happen. You see, this month me and my band, "The Emo Establishment" decided to hold this big tour and play a huge show at the end of the month with other bands, just to see how it would go and make the fans happy. But there were a couple things bad about it: First, none of us in my band actually liked people, at all, and second, all the bands that we invited turned out to be crappy bands I hated! And the members of the bands seemed to be a bother. There was the “Gopher Monkeys”: almost everyone in that band seemed to be uncontrollably happy and energetic, with two of them jumping around and talking to everyone they saw. Then I saw larger man with a blue Mohawk sitting on the couch with a somewhat angry look on his face not really doing much. And then there was one kid I couldn’t help but to keep on seeing. He was rather short compared to me, since I was 6”4, he was also pretty skinny. I didn’t know what it was about him that made him stand out; maybe it was the ugly nose of his that looked like it belonged to a gorilla, or the hair cut that was spiky on top, with three dread-locks in his face that was a different color the rest of his brown hair. We had invited a metal band to come and play with us, but they said that they weren’t going to be staying with us for now, since their bassist, Sean, I believe was her name, was pregnant with her husband, William's child. He was also in the band as the guitarist. That was fine though, the less people the better. I saw “The Chick Band” hanging out with each other. A girl with bright red hair didn’t seemed pleased to be with one of the other girls, who had brown hair that was all poufy and funny looking, talking to her. I didn’t really know, I didn't really care, and I probably never would care.

As the day went father on, I was trying to figure out who invited these bands. Why would we choose such idiots? I looked over only to see what I could assume was in fact a child staring at me. He had white hair that was kind of like a bob on the bottom, with it being all spiky on top, with his bangs over his eyes, and they where dyed black. He held in his hand a plate of brownies. “Want a brownie?” He asked with a cute and innocent smile on his face. Though, sadly for him, I’m much smarter than to believe that. He poisoned them. I knew it. No one on the right mind would try and offer someone food without even knowing their name. That is insanity! He just kept on smiling, waiting for me to answer. I decided it was best not to let him know that I knew he wanted to kill me, just yet. Still, it bothers me. Why did he want me dead? I never did anything to him. "Just great....” I thought to myself. Someone else has a strong hate for me even though I did nothing besides SIT.
“No!” I said to him with a rude tone to my voice, trying to let him know that I didn’t want anything to do with him. Though it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. He just smiled, put them away and tried to offer me cookies instead. I also refused those, trying to watch him, trying to figure out what he had planned for me. I know a lot about killing people, and how to sneak poison into their food; he couldn’t fool me that easily.
“Oh, by the way, I’m Sebastian!” He said with the friendly sound in his voice. I didn’t care but whatever. I guess I would need to learn.
“Tom.” I said letting him know my name.
“So you're Tom. You're in the 'Emo Establishment', right?" I could hear someone say from behind me. I turned around and much to my surprise it was him: 'Gorilla Nose'. That was a nickname I gave to him because I needed something to call him. I nodded.
“And you are?” I asked him, without really caring.
“The name's Rick!” He said. I couldn’t help but to think the name was rather dumb, but still, I liked it on him. I didn’t know what else to say to him, or what to do. The month had finally came and there was no way out. Bothersome, really. But still what’s done is done. I just have to deal with it.
“So what do you do in the band?” I asked him, just trying to make small talk of something I might care to hear about.
“I’m the drummer! And yourself?” He asked.
“I sing.” I told him. He got an expression on his face as though he thought I couldn't sing well. I glared at him. Of course, I am immature enough to do that.