Meet Me at the Corner [Ethan]

The daily grind, people called the robotic drone people entered as they shuffled along, their head down and hands by their side, not knowing or even caring about the other people that are literally an arms-breadth away. They just go about their business, worrying only about their concerns and their own lives.

Cyrus walked up to the street corner, guitar case and amplifier in hand. He scanned the crowd, looking at all the people that meandered through this particular street corner. This one was one of Cyrus's hangout spots, not because of the view or something like that. It was his favorite spot simply because there was a power outlet right next to the seat. It was nice.

He plugged in the guitar amp, relishing the slight *pop* it made as the electromagnets aligned, followed by a loud scraping sound, as the quarter-inch cable slid into the jack on the bottom of the '64 Fender Jazz edition. It was loud, inharmonious, Like nails on a chalkboard. Even Cyrus cringed as he made such a ruckus. But it was necessary, sadly. It was a trick he had learned on the streets, when he needed the money. The hardest part wasn't playing. Not at all. That came easy. Almost like water running off his fingers, flowing into the Guitar and out through the amplifier, out into the world. No, the hardest part wasn't Making music.

The hard part was getting someone to listen. The old adage about the tree in the woods and if It made a sound fit in quite nicely here, With his music being the falling tree. But sadly, Most people were just too wrapped up in their own little world to listen to the world, no matter what they're missing. Not unless you gave 'em a jolt. Which is what that jaw-rattling sound did. It smacked people back into reality, forcing them to listen to the world. And him.

Ah, all done, Cyrus mused. The guitar was tuned, the levels perfect. He plucked a Big, Fat E, letting the thirty-four foot tall wavelength resonate through the streets. He saw the crowd stop and stare at him, His pale skin contrasting the grey Foo-Fighter's shirt and dark shooting gloves, his foot resting n the open guitar case.

Perfect. He plucked the opening notes of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers lesser-known song, called" Meet me at the Corner", A simple, soft song that still had energy and hope, it was one of his favorites, and an obvious crowd favorite, as people began tossing their spare change in as the sun Came down over Death City.

A red ponytail wavered like a rope behind the tall meister. It was the perfect time of day to simply casually walk around in Death City. The redhead's mood had been pretty great overall today. It was just one of those days where one would feel utterly happy for nothing at all. Hmm. I guess I could swing by the market and get some ingredients. Possibly some fish, too.

[/color] He mused about his supper as he continued to happily walk down the road. Although, someone looked at the redheaded meister's face would think that he was far from happy. The bland expression showed boredom.

Just as he turned around a corner; he could hear a guitar being strung. His emerald gaze slowly moved towards the group of people that had probably crowded around the musician. I know that song…[/color] The meister thought as he absent-mindedly walked over to the crowd. Ethan made his way through the little crowd, excusing himself as he asked people to move out of his way.

Once the tall meister managed to finally see who the musician was, Ethan wondered if he was new in town. The guy was good. He listened for a few seconds before his mind played the lyrics. As he imagined the voice of the singer, Ethan could feel his vocal cords adjusting. Without even thinking; Ethan slowly walked towards the plug where the amp was connected.

"Please don't ask me where--"

The redhead mimicked the voice of the singer perfectly as he reached the wall. He turned around and leaned on the wall. Arms crossed in front of him and head hanging slightly.

"Where you think I been
I've been a lot of places
But this could be my win"

The meister would continue singing along in tune as long as the guitarist was playing.
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He had a small group now, maybe ten, fifteen people. That was a new experience. Usually when you played on a street or in a subway terminal, the people passed you by, not even listening or caring, just running along like ants in their little lives, not noticing the world around them. But not here. Here was different. The people here...noticed. Like right now. A crowd this large never happened. But he liked it. It put him on the spot, Gave him a stage.

Another good thing about a crowd like this was the tips. Everyone in the crowd usually throws in a little something, the spare change in their pockets. But their shear size meant that people noticed the crowd first, and when they came to investigate, saw him. It was basically free advertisement, a billboard for his music. He heard someone throw in a very loud handful of change, then step back into the crowd. Cyrus didn’t look up. It was an unspoken rule that you didn’t stop to say thank you. You never stopped the music. Thats why everyone was here, for the music.

It was why he didn’t stop the music when an tall guy, about his own age, with bright red hair held up in a long ponytail quietly made his way to the front of the crowd and leaning up against the wall where his Crate amp he was sitting on was plugged in. He did look up though when the stranger, who stood with his arms crossed and head hung low, began to sing in an almost uncanny resemblance to Anthony Kiedas. And he should know cause when The Chilli Peppers came to the Big Easy, Flea’s bass tech got sick, and Cyrus had had to fill in for the night. He’d heard Anthony sing this exact song that night, and, if the humidity was a lot higher, It would have been exactly the same as that night.
"Please don't ask me where--
Where you think I been
I've been a lot of places
But this could be my win”
He looked over at the singer, An excited grin on his Slate fedora-wielding head. He always enjoyed collaborations,duets, the music bouncing back and forth. He wondered where’d he learned to sing. Or who he was. that worked as well.
Cyrus Picked up the slack a little, playing both the bass and lead guitar parts for this tune, since they weren't too different.He wondered what was gunna happen. Either way, it’d be fun.

Ethan looked at the guitarist, sharing the same grin he did. A single thought came to Ethan's mind as the guitarist picked up the bassist's parts, adding them to the guitar parts. That guy was good. Good being an understatement. Ethan closed his eyes and lost the smile as he needed to continue singing.

" Meet at the corner will I
Tell me what to do
Cause I messed up on you
And had I known
All that I do now
I'm guessing were through now
Receding into the forest
I will
Lay around in wait
And I wait for you.

I feel so bad
I thought you wanna know
Something I want to show
I thought you ought to know

Please don't say you want
To keep in touch out there
To see you on the corner
Well that I just can't bare

Meet at the corner and tell
Tell me what to do
Cause I messed up on you
And had I known
All that I do now
I'm guessing were through now
Receding into the forest
I will
Lay around in wait

Hey and I turn
I turned my head and I thought
I saw a sign
From the gods
A sign from the gods
That you werent meant to be mine
And it's fine

Takin it all for a ride
Until the day when it's gone
Mystified by where
It all went wrong
When it's gone

I live and I learn
And I lose and I win
But it's better than ever
Whenever I'm in
I thank you girl
For everywhere that we've been"

Ethan wasn't really fond of public displays, but he couldn't simply ignore such a great song not to be sung with such a talented player nearby. Once the song was over, Ethan hunched forwards, one hand rested on his leg, and his other arm in front of his mouth as he started coughing. His throat did not appreciate the change of voice over a prolonged time. "Damn, I must be out of practice." He stated once he stopped coughing.

[/justify]

The song ended, the final chords ringing through the square as Their small audience began to applaud. Cyrus rose from his crate amplifier, his guitar in his left hand, his right reaching up and taking the fedora off his head as he swept it down in a theatrical bow. People tended to enjoy the theatrics, and happy people means more money. Not that he needed it, but... It meant success. It meant people supported him, Enjoyed his heart that he basically threw out into the air for people to judge at their heart's desire. That people enjoyed it was...nice.

With the song finished, the people began to disperse, each going about their separate ways. He usually wouldn't let them out of his grip, but he had a guest. A very interesting guest. One who was coughing and hacking all over the place. He stopped after a while.

"Damn, I must be out of practice." the stranger commented, hunched over as he caught his breath.

Well it certainly didn't sound like it. You sound great. Im Cyrus, by the way. He said as he stuck his hand out. He was happy that he had stopped by to join him,But who was he, what was he doing here? And what was his story?

The crowd applauding the pair was an enjoyable moment for the redheaded singer. Something like this had not happened to him ever since he had to focus solely on his training with his father. Being away from the church for a while; the lack of choir practice had taken its toll. He managed to get some practice in while his father left to patrol around town playing hero, but even then those were but rare moments. Ethan could count the number of times he had practiced singing like this when his father was away using only the fingers of his hands. Ethan straightened himself and faced the guitarist.

"Believe me, I am out of practice. Usually I would not be coughing like this after such a little session." He stated happily, a small smile appeared on his lips as the redhead's hand clasped the musician's hand, shaking it lightly. "Ethan." He let go of the musician's hand and looked at the guitar's case. "Are you in need of money? I've seen quite the number of musicians do these kinds of displays." He asked as the emerald eyes looked back at the blond teenager.

The Scarlet haired singer thought he did this for the money? Cyrus looked down at his clothing in played-up surprise, his hands going outward to give his eyes an unobstructed view, and also made it all the more comical as he gave his attire a good honest look. Yea... the shirt did have some holes...And some powder burns from when he had accidentally placed a candle next to where he was packing pistol rounds...A cringe escaped as he went back to that particular bad decision, but wonderful lesson. Okay, maybe he did look like he needed the money...Or a new shirt.

Na, man. I will admit this shirt is wrecked, but I don't kneed the money. The Academy gives me more than enough, and when I need more I just take an engraving job or something. Na, this I take down to the homeless shelter, give it to them, or if Its a really good day, Buy em all a cheeseburger. I know How it feels to be like that...I ain't gunna just turn my back on them.. He looked down as he said it, the fedora casting a shadow over his face. It had been tough times when he was on the street. He kept it up to keep him grounded, a never forget your roots thing.

He looked up again, forcing himself back into the real world . He waved at the crowd.Sorry, Folks, show's over for now. They let out an audible sigh, as disappointment crept into their bodies.Apparently they wanted more, and a showman never leaves a crowd unhappy.I tell you what. Come back, same time tomarrow, and Ill make it up to you. All request, No tips The crowd Cheered at that, then slowly began to file away. Cyrus Flicked the power switch off on his amp, unplugging it from the wall and his guitar.

Well Ethan, Can you do me a favor and grab the money out of the case. We need to take this and this morning's up by there before the donations table closes

Ethan gazed at the young guitarist's clothing when the guy himself was checking his attire out. Filled with holes, smut and burn marks. The redhead laughed a bit as he was reminded of what he was wearing: Mr. Classy, "always wearing the suit and tie." Ethan placed his hands in his pockets as the musician spoke.

"I see. I suppose you live at the school dorms, then? They don't really give much, but that side-job you have should make up for it. And it's impressive of you; to give to charity like this. Quite the talent you have, I must say."

As Cyrus was telling the crowd that it was over, something vibrated within his pocket. Ethan pulled out his iPhone 4 and checked the text message. The happy expression was donned with a slight frown and light tapping of the touch screen occurred.

The redhead managed to finish typing his message and hitting "send" before Cyrus asked him something, which the distracted young man responded with a terse "Yeah sure." Phone still in hand, Ethan walked over to the case and knelt down before it. His free hand rested on top of the case as his eyes scanned the amount of money there was within it.

"That's quite the amount…" Ethan stated in mild surprise. "Don't you want to put your guitar over this? It would be easier to carry, and the money wouldn't be rocking around. Unless you don't mind carrying the guitar around, I could take the case and the amp."

[/justify]