MDR's Midweek Mutiny: CYOA 4

Editor's Note: This was written by DC's Middle Distance Runner. This is part of a series of posts that they are writing today. Continue to the bottom, to link to the rest. You may want to start at the beginning, to have this make any sort of sense.


“Hey, Steve,” you say.

“Hey, brah,” Stephen says, contemplatively. “I’m the singer of Middle Distance Runner. I like lyrics and acoustic guitars, ‘cause I’m chill as beans. What’s your name?”

“I’m [your name],” you say into the shrill silence of the October night, through the aphrodisiac steam of the hot tub. “Do you play any instruments?”

Steve looks pensive and lugubrious, as he is wont to look, and replies, with a nostalgia not altogether fond, yet not wholly bitter, “Yup . . . guitar and keyboard . . . some tambourine . . . whatever.”

“Well I love the album!” you insist.

“Oh yeah, you fucking phony? What’s your favorite song from it, then?” he says.

“______________, of course!”

If you choose Naturally, RIGHT CLICK HERE!
If you choose Man of the People, RIGHT CLICK HERE!
If you choose Up in a Tree, RIGHT CLICK HERE!
If you choose Out of Here, RIGHT CLICK HERE!
If you choose Momma (the super secret hidden track that you can only access by rewinding the CD from the beginning of track 1), you’re clever ... but you don’t get to click on anything.

“No way ... that’s my favorite song, too! We’re totally vibing right now.”

As you half-heartedly mask the pleasure of the bubble jet on your no no parts combined with the striking beauty of the singer, you continue the inquiry. “When did you guys start playing music?” you ask, with less relish than your previous question.

“Allan, Erik and I started about 9 years ago right about the same time that we started growing hair in weird places,” Steve answers, most conveniently. “Jay came along as the 2nd guitar player about 4 years later, and then Ian joined us last year on bass.”

“You didn’t have a bass player for 8 years?” You ask.

“We did, but all of our other bass players disappeared mysteriously. The FBI couldn’t find any dirt on us, so the case fell apart. Then that bitch, Soledad O’Brien, started poking her nose around the practice room. She said we were ‘in cahoots’ with Satan, and that we had beheaded our bassists in his name. Well, I tell you, I don’t even know what a cahoot is, let alone how to get into several of them with the dark lord. Anyway, that whole OJ thing happened and then all of the media hullabaloo subsided.”

“Well, I believe you”, you say out loud with sound waves and vocal cords. “Soledad O’Brien is a bitch!”

“And how!” Steve conveys through language. “Well, I better be off. I’ve got a 2:00 massage with Fred Durst. He’s got a real talent ... and it’s giving massages.” But as he rises, your no no parts recoil in horror, as you realize that Steve is completely naked except for a loincloth fashioned from the scalps of the bassists of Middle Distance Runner past!!!!! You feel an emotion suspended neatly between disgust at the garment and arousal at the perfect male form encased therein.

You almost immediately ____________.

[If you choose “rub one out,” go to the next line.]
[If you choose “barf,” go to the next line.]
[If you choose “barf while rubbing one out,” go to the next line]

With Steve gone, you’re forced to converse with one of the other guys.

If you choose to talk to Ian, CLICK HERE.
If you choose to talk to Allan, CLICK HERE.
If you choose to talk to Erik, again why would you do that?
If you choose to talk to Jay, CLICK HERE.
If you’re confused and want to start over, CLICK HERE.
If you're sick of this and want to quit, CLICK HERE.




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Check Out Other Editions of The Midweek Mutiny:
What Is This?
Faster Faster Harder Harder
Saturna
Low Red Land
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