This is the product of EXTREME boredom . Stick with me on this, this is gonna suck. THIS SUCKS. But this is only something I am writing to fix my writers block. Don't worry, you haven't lost me yet.

“Hey Joe.”

“What?”

The two were lounging in the back of the tour bus, wiped out after an afternoon gig.

“Hey Joe.”

“What?!”

“Hey Joe!”

“What!?!”

“Do we have anymore soda?”

Joe rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I think me and Mike drank the last of it last night.”

“What did you say?”

Joe looked at him, exasperated.

“I said that there is no more soda.”

Rob’s face crumpled.

“Ok. That’s it. I’m going to kill myself.”

Joe smirked.

“And I’m taking you with me, you self appointed beverage dictator!”

Rob slowly pulled the gun out from behind him. Fear sparkled in Joe’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

Rob laughed....menacingly!

“Oh, I would.”

Joe squealed and dove for the door. He made it. He sprinted down the path between their bunks, past Mike and Chester’s occupied bunk. Joe had barely made it to the door leading to the living room/kitchen when Rob pulled the trigger.

“Shit!”

Water sprayed all over Joe’s back.

“Rob! You fucker!”

Rob grinned. Joe flicked him off. Rob stuck his tongue out childishly.

“You know what Rob? Fuck. You.”

“Not now, I’m thirsty.”

Joe rolled his eyes and opened the fridge. His eyes widened and he shut it. Rob raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing...”

Rob yanked the fridge door open and gasped.

“You lying, sick, ass-wipe son of a bitch!”

Rob’s eyes trailed over the pack of ginger-ale and the pack of Dr. Pepper. Joe smiled sheepishly.

“Oops.”

Rob opened the case of Dr. Pepper and yanked a can from it. Joe grabbed a ginger-ale. They both plopped down on the tour bus’s couch, fuming. Joe’s shirt was stuck to his skin.

“Why did you pick ginger-ale?”

Joe shrugged.

“I dunno. I just like it better I guess.”

Rob shuddered.

“What did you say?”

‘Here we go again..’

“I like ginger-ale better than Dr. Pepper.”

Thud

“ROB! What the FUCK! That was a half-empty can of Dr. Pepper!”

His hair was drenched in the syrupy liquid.

“So?”

“GRRR!”

Joe launched his can at Rob’s head. Rob moved his head. It barely grazed his left ear.

“Ow!”

“Payback’s a bitch!”

They locked eyes and both dove the fridge. Rob got there first. He grabbed a can and shook it up, popping the top. It spewed all over Joe.

“You fucktart!”

Joe grabbed a can and threw it at Rob. It hit him on the forehead. Rob grabbed another can and dove under the table.

“Can’t get me now! Mwahaha!”

“Rob...”

“What?”

Joe opened his can and stuck it under the table.

“Oh you miserable navel licker! Stare into my spooky navel-like depths!”

“What. The. Fuck.”

Rob giggled.

“Hee hee!”

“Rob, if you hee hee me one more time, the next soda can is going up your ass.”

“Ooh. Kinky.”

Joe sighed and sat down on the couch.

10 minuets later...

“Rob?”

“Yes?”

“How long till you decide to come out from under there?”

“Until you prove to me that the alien carrots are not here to take over the world.”

“What?”

“They deceive you! The carrots are bad! They give you longer lasting enemas! I swear!”

“Do I have to drag you out from there!?”

“Somewhere over the rainbow....”

“ROB!”

Someone yawned. Joe looked up to find Mike, his hair tousled from sleep.

“Where’s Brad and Dave?”

“Store...”

“And Rob?”

“Table.”

“Fuck. Do I have to throw out the carrots again?”

“I think so.”

Mike grumbled as he opened up the refrigerator.

“Every fucking week.”

He sighed as the carrots hit the trash can. Joe sat there, looking at him. Mike froze.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Who took my cheese?”

“Oh shit... here we go again.”

THE END!