Notice Given
The screen cuts to what appears to be handheld video. The cameraman is weaving in and out of a positive scrum of teased hair, leather, cigarette smoke, and beers both import and domestic. The thud of bass and drums sounds muffled, and once we get past two beefy security men, it becomes clear: we’re making it to the backstage area of a concert venue. And what a backstage! Catering tables, various dudes with attitudes, and pretty things practically carpet the floor, but the cameraman has a target.
We see him, finally, the crowd parting like the seas. Five and a half feet tall on his best day and damn near as wide at the shoulders, a miniature mountain of muscle with both a mustache and a teased out blonde mullet: “Boogie” Barry Delgado, one half of Solid Gold Rock And Roll. He chuckles, throwing his thumb over his shoulder and drawing our attention to the lanky frame of Trent Sadikaj, who is sitting on a couch like a rockstar nucleus surrounded by groupie electrons.
Boogie: Listen, my bro over there is a little, how you might say, preoccupied. But that’s just the thing that comes with being on the road and rockin’ shows, dude. The women. The ‘backstage betties’. The groups, the leg, that sweet southern comfort.
He takes a pause to enjoy a sip on his glass of something brown and alcoholic, shrugging slightly.
Boogie: And even though we both find the idea of introducing internationally known talent to be at least a little, y’know, insulting…well, the management asked nicely. And we’re dudes of the people, we live to please. So since some of you may have been hermits until now, maybe you just recently regained all of your senses due to experimental medicine, or you’re just now waking up from a coma and this is the first thing you seeing on the television…
His spine straightens, his massive chest puffs out. He runs a hand through his mullet, letting the party in the back swing with a practiced, shampoo-commercial flair.
Boogie: …I’m Boogie. Barry Delgado to the government, I lay down that thumping night time pulse and crack skulls in that ring whenever I do my damn thing! And this guy? C’mon, walk with me.
Boogie Barry kills his glass and leads the cameraman over to the couch. He holds his hand out by way of introduction, showing his compatriot: lanky to an extreme degree, positively poured into his leather pants, knee high boots all patent leather and polished chrome. Barry leans down and cocks his head.
Boogie: This is Boots. Say “Hi” to the folks, dude.
The man draws away from the conversation he was having with a pretty lady, and he doesn’t even need to rev up–the engine goes dead to 120.
Boots: Ay-yay-yow! Electric Boots on the scene, rising to the top–
Boogie and Boots: Fresh cream!
Boots: If you don’t know, what’s your damage? If you don’t know, what’s it like? Is that ignorance bliss? Hold on one sec…
Boots stands up, his height only enhanced by how stocky his partner is. He turns to the bevy of callers with a hand on his heart, batting his mascara’d lashes and affecting a slight pout.
Boots: Babies, Electric Warrior got a little bit of work to do. Why don’t y’all scurry off to the drinks table and give me a tight ten?
As they begin to stand and walk away, he grasps each by their hand, smiling.
Boots: Yes, you…you, you’re always a favorite…ah, my sweet Georgia peach…you especially…you I don’t know, you’re new? We’re going to know one another on definitive levels…mwah, mwah, mwah.
He blows kisses as they positively strut out of frame. He looks after them, totally lost, before a slight nudge to ribs from Boogie’s elbow.
Boots: Where was I?
Boogie: We’re saying hello to PRIME.
Sadikaj steps forward, wiggling his shoulders slightly.
Boots: Baby baby bay-bees, understand that you’re staring at something that’s beyond the dull copper of your imaginations. We transcend, we elevate, and we glitter in the darkness just as well as we do in the sunshine. We are Solid…Gold. We think globally, and we sling globally. But if you want me to give a bon mot to the locals, understand this. We toast Mimosa’s from coast to coast, I’m in those penthouse suites and I ain’t bringing my clothes.
Delgado claps him on the shoulder, grinning.
Boogie: Is the notice given, Boots?
Trent smirks and throws an arm around his bassist, holding his other out as if considering a spectacle in the night’s sky.
Boots: Consider the notice signed, sealed, delivered, and washing out the stars with a neon glow. Live your dreams and think you can be the next big thing, but we got that bad news for any team in PRIME. Boogie lay the news down!
Boogie Barry steps forward, his boulderlike biceps flexing. He takes up the whole frame and grasps the camera itself, getting in extreme close.
Boogie: Y’all can be anything you wanna be…
He lets go and strides past the cameraman, leaving Electric Boots, who holds his arms out to soak in adulation. He finally stops after a solid ( gold ) 10 seconds of posing, and winks at the camera.
Boots: …except us. Mercy!
He blows a kiss to the viewers at home, executes a quick spin, and struts off camera like a fusion dance of Mick Jagger and Conor Macgregor. The noise of the room keeps going as the screen fades down to black, leaving us with a shimmering logo that reads:
SOLID GOLD ROCK AND ROLL