Audio By Carbonatix
Eddie slowly walked into the room and lifted his tired eyes toward his two anxious bandmates.
“He said, `I’m finally getting my solo career going, and Van Halen doesn’t fit into my plans.’ And then he hung up on me,” the guitarist whispered.
“Oh God! Game over!” Michael sobbed, lunging for his bottle of Jack with trembling hands. “How the hell are we gonna tour without Gary Cherone?!”
“Stop blubbering, dammit,” Alex barked. “Look, we have another option, remember? Dav–”
“Don’t even say that name in my presence,” growled Eddie.
“But who else can we get? That guy from Creed?” Michael sniffled.
Alex thought for a moment. “Well, there’s always Sammy . . .”
“Sammy?!” Eddie guffawed. “I thought he moved to Bolivia to open a tequila factory or something.”
“Wait, yeah! Sammy!” Michael exclaimed, his face brightening. “I bet we could get some free booze outta the deal!”
“Hmmm . . . you think he’d balk at being our last choice?” asked Eddie.
“What else is he gonna do this summer — sing `I Can’t Drive 55′ on the state fair circuit again?” Alex shouted. “That’s where we’re headed if you don’t get ahold of him right now!”
“I’m on it!” Eddie yelled as he rushed out of the room.
Michael turned to Alex. “Does this mean we won’t be playing `Dirty Water Dog’?”
“Shut up.”
