The loud buzz that his alarm clock provided was incredibly irritating, but Logan awoke with an angry face and turned it off. He grumbled something unintelligible, because he was still half asleep. He rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, deciding to grab a quick shower, brush his hair and teeth, and get some breakfast. Having done so, and now wearing a black Quicksilver board shirt, with a picture of the ocean on the back, some jeans, and his black vans, Logan went down into his dad's kitchen to see what there was to eat. He hated having parents that hated each other so much and the scene in the kitchen told him that last night's screaming match had been particularly brutal. Shaking his head, and sighing, he put things back in order as best he could. Chairs were turned upright, glass from shattered cups swept up and plates that were cracked or broken were thrown out. Logan decided upon a banana and some yogurt for breakfast; as these foods looked the least likely to kill him or give him an ulcer. He'd rather have had pizza, but there wasn't any.
Grabbing his keys, wallet, and cell phone, Logan decided that today was not a bad day for a drive around town. He needed to clear his mind anyway. he knew that his guitar was just sitting in his room and so, figuring he could use the time to at least get some practice in with it, he threw in the back seat of his old Camero. he hopped in the driver's seat and started the car, the radio blaring one of his cd's. He took of and headed for downtown, since that was where things seemed to happen here. Of course "Downtown" was really a few blocks of narrow streets, with shops and restaurants...nothing much to speak of. Then again, the whole was nothing much much to speak of. After driving for a while, Logan began to notice flyers appearing on telephone poles. At first, he didn't think much of them, figuring that someone had lost their dog or was having another yard sale or something utterly stupid. But, he pulled over to the side, parked, and got out, ripping one off the pole and taking a closer look at it.
Do you play music? Are you tired of staying in this pile of shit you call a town, ready to get that great band together and leave your past and problems behind? Well good me too my name is Drake Deadgrave. If your interested call the number below.
Logan blinked at the flyer and read it again, What the hell? I'll give it a shot. What's the worst that could happen? I mean, I've never actually BEEN in a band before..well, except for elementary school, but where did that take my music career? Yeah. Might as well. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number listed. "Yeah, is this Drake? My name is Logan and I'd like to be a part of your band."