"Ronnie, where the hell did you leave my bass?"

As I looked under my bed, my bandmate, Ronnie came in the room.

"Why would I touch your bass? I'm a guitarist." He asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"That doesn't mean you didn't touch it." I Said, straightening up. "We leave in half an hour, and I need my bass."

Susan came in. "What's going on?"

"My bass is missing."

"Can we get a new one? We should have the equipment in the van already." She mumbled, running her hand through her blonde hair.

"But it's my lucky bass.." I whined.

"There's no such thing." She hissed back. "Just grab your stuff and we'll go get a new one."

"No! I can't just replace it like that!"

She picked up her microphone, just sticking it in her backpack since the stand was likely already out in the van. "Come on, guys, we're already late."

I bit my lip and followed her out to the van, where Alex was already sitting in the passenger seat.

"You guys have taken long enough." He said, bringing up his Pepsi can to take a sip of the slightly caffeinated liquid.

"I lost my bass." I whined.

"And she blamed it on me." Ronnie Said.

"Get a new one." Alex mumbled.

"But it's my lucky bass!"

"I've heard the word 'Bass' far to many times in a matter of three minutes." Susan Said.

"You just don't understand the bond I have with it." I Said. "You don't play any instruments."

"I mean, if I lost my voice I'd probably feel the same way, so I get it." Susan Said. "But we don't have any time. We'll be late if we don't leave now."

"How the hell do you lose a bass in the first place?" Alex Asked.

"Ronnie did it!" I Said.

"Holy fuck, Get in the fucking van!" Susan Shouted.

I bit my lip and climbed in the van, Ronnie following me to the back. Susan got in the driver's seat, then looked back at us, her eyes full of absolute and unforgiving rage.

"Now, stop talking about that stupid bass!" She Said. "If I hear that word again, I'll drive us off a bridge!"

Ronnie, Alex, and I all stayed quiet, and Susan nodded, pulling the car out of the driveway.

Sure, maybe this was childish behavior, which I'm certain has led you to believe that we're either toddlers or reckless teenagers.

Ha. Wish I could go back to being a teenager, which was quite enjoyable despite me spending most of those days depressed. But alas, I am now thirty-three, and my band mates are either a few years older, or younger, than I am.

Out of the four of us, Susan is the oldest, at thirty-six. Alex is the youngest, and he is thirty. Ronnie is one year older than I am, so we have seemed to bond more than we have with any of the others.

Of course, it's nothing romantic, because Ronnie isn't even interested in women. He's more into guys, apparently, and I'm the only one in the band that knows that, since he wasn't comfortable telling anyone else yet.

Our band is called the Suburban Aliens, which I always found to be a stupid name, which Alex came up with. We just let him have the honor of picking the band's name, and that, my friend, is what he chose.

It did make sense, since when we started, the four of us were incredibly punk, and living in suburban Chicago.

We were suburban, and aliens to conforming people.

It worked.

We had started our band in our late teens, playing in small towns for a little extra cash. We had never gotten noticed, so we stayed unsigned, doing small tours here and there, because we didn't think we had to make anything big out of it.

It wasn't until now that we were finally getting signed, after years of playing in small bars where people hated us. We were getting signed by the legendary Pete Wentz, lyricist and bassist of Fall Out Boy.

I always loved Fall Out Boy, because when I got into them, I realized that I was only a year younger than the lead singer, Patrick Stump. I always thought he was incredibly awesome, and used to dream of meeting him one day.

We started our band a year after Fall Out Boy started theirs, which was around 2002, 2003.

Honestly, it's been so many years, I don't remember exactly what year.

Of course, it wasn't certain that we'd get signed, as Pete Wentz has yet to hear how we sound more recently.

Yeah, when we were emailing, I sent him one of our songs from 2009.

Yeah.

So, not only has he not heard any of our new songs, but he also thinks we're still in our twenties, which may be a problem.

Hopefully not.

"Emma!" I looked up after hearing my name be called by Susan. "Were you even listening?" She Asked.

"Sorry...I was thinking." I Said.

"I asked if you want to go run inside." She Said. "We've stopped at a music store."

"Oh." I Said, looking out the window. Sure enough, we were parked in the parking lot next to a large music store.

"Now, quick," She Said. "Run in and pick out a bass, then we can head to DCD2."

I opened my door and sighed.

There was no way on earth that we'd get signed by DCD2 if I didn't have my lucky bass. We were gonna fail Completely. Might as well just turn back now.

I got out of the van and went into the music store, looking around. I did like this store a lot, and this was actually where I got my bass in the first place. They played good music most of the time, and they sold a lot of cool records.

I went over to the bass section, and started looking at some of them. It had to be perfect. Perfect aerodynamics, perfect size, perfect sound, and of course, perfect look.

And after searching for a while, I found the perfect one.

I held it in my hands, swooning over it.

It was flawless. It was amazing.

Almost better than my lucky bass.

I carried the bass over to the cashier, paid for it, then ran back out to the van.

"I found one!" I exclaimed.

Susan rolled down the window and rolled her eyes. "Get In, then."

I opened my door and hopped in my seat, cradling my new bass in my arms.

"I'm gonna name you Penny.." I cooed.

"Oh, Grow up." Susan Said, starting up the van.