Negative One

By Steve Husk

The members of Metzgerhund have been suffering through a few negative experiences the last couple of days.

A promotions specialist stands them up. Some of the local teens are bashing their music. The Metzgerhund website goes offline, and the hosting company doesn’t seem to care. The fuse box in their practice shed blows up, and the maintenance manager, Larry, won't fix it.

But wait! There’s more! The employees of an out-of-state delicatessen make their annual visit to Sentry Ridge to pit their store softball team against the park’s team. Billy is tasked with putting the park team together, but finds out none of his co-workers want to play against this team.

Metzgerhund’s biggest challenge to their peace and sanity comes in the form of three ‘entitled’ twenty-somethings who go out of their way to treat the band with as much disrespect as they could muster. And, because the park manager’s insistence on flawless customer service, the five band mates had to hold their tongue while dealing with all their requests and verbal abuse.

Amongst all the uneasiness this situation causes within the band, Calvin is especially unhappy because he won’t be able to go to a local car club show

In all of this negativity, one park guest stepped forward to help out the band. This person had a particular interest in ensuring Calvin got to the car show after all.

Billy finally discovered a way to cancel out all the problems he and his band mates have been experiencing. It was simple math: give some negativity right back at those causing the problems. One by one, their problems went away. They put the entitled girls in their place. Billy even came up with a way to compete against the deli softball team by combatting their advantage.

Unfortunately, Billy realized way too late that he struck back against the park guest who helped the band. And, in Billy’s mind, this guest was someone who was more and more resembling the type of person you just don't cross.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Husk
• Release date: Mar 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224809523

Steve Husk

Some say Steve Husk is constantly going up against his demons and the many voices in his own head. Truth is, Steve has recruited most of them as his advisors. Some of them want to start a band with him.Steve is a retired software / web application developer and security control center officer. He currently works his writing (and sometimes music) craft in northern Virginia, USA.

Book preview

Negative One

Verse Three of

Metzgerhund Retreat

Steve Husk

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2023 Steven M. Husk

Cover art Copyright 2023 Steven M. Husk

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author’s page on Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Billy smiled at the sound of his alarm clock inviting him to start his day right where he left off the night before.

He laughed. ‘Night before’ wasn’t exactly true. He and his Metzgerhund band mates didn’t finally agree to switch off their instruments until sometime after three in the morning.

He turned his head towards the blaring and repetitious dance music and opened one eye.

6:01am.

Cool. All kinds of time for more practice before we have to go to work. Then, a meeting at the mall with that promotions guy. Then, more band practice. This day is gonna kick all kinds of---

His mind finally woke up.

Dance music? This isn’t the music I set my alarm to play.

Both eyes sprung open.

My alarm doesn’t even play music.

His eyes darted back to the alarm clock display.

I didn’t set it this early!

Billy shot to his feet.

He realized the dance music---and it was unbearably loud, distorting the music to the point where he couldn’t even tell what key it was in---was coming from somewhere outside his window.

It’s been playing like that for the last twenty-three minutes.

There was just enough light coming into the barrack for Billy to see the band’s guitarist, Calvin, sitting straight up in the next bunk over, shaggy brown hair more disheveled than usual, eyes wide and face tense as if somebody just popped a large air-filled bag behind him.

How do you know that? Billy asked.

Because that’s how long I’ve been trying to get back to sleep.

Billy looked towards the opposite side of the barrack.

Reggie, the band’s vocalist, was lying face up in his bunk, his eyes wide open, grumbling something in Spanish.

Jason, the band’s drummer, was also wide awake, and frowning.

Sam, the band’s bass player, had a pillow over his head.

You awake too, Sam?

The Sam you have reached is not in service, Sam’s voice mumbled from under the pillow. Now, leave me alone. One of you goobs robbed me of my sleep.

Billy looked out the window. The sun rising up from behind the trees to the left gave him plenty of light to see nearly a dozen cars parked in front of the two barracks directly across the road from the east camp mess hall. Several people were carrying travel bags into the barracks. He also saw three girls doing some sort of dancing aerobics routine on mats placed on the sidewalk in front of the barracks.

It wasn’t us, Billy answered, but I see where it’s coming from.

Obnoxious park guests? Sam asked.

Yep.

Since they don’t have any problems making noise this early in the morning, Jason said, I say let’s go make some of our own. Band practice!

Decreed into law, Billy answered.

The barrack echoed with the sound the five band mates barking like large, excited dogs.

Billy grabbed his prized hometown Rottweil baseball jersey and slipped it on without buttoning it, then slid his feet into his sneakers without tying the laces, and headed out the door.

Calvin headed for the door next, reading his tablet and attempting to slip on his reading glasses at the same time instead of paying attention to where he was walking, and ended up bumping into the doorframe.

Sam rolled off his bunk and crashed onto a pile of clothes on the cement floor. He climbed to his feet, slipped a XXXL flannel shirt over the baggy T-shirt he was already wearing, then grabbed a beaded hair tie and put his long black hair in a ponytail.

Reggie came out next, attempting to comb his thick dark brown hair into place. Except, it kept flopping the wrong way.

This isn’t working for me, he said with an unhappy mumble, then headed back to his bunk.

Jason slipped a tattered football jersey over his weightlifter’s body with too much force, adding a new rip just under the numbers. He headed for the door, but caught sight of Reggie going the wrong way. He held out a meaty arm and stopped Reggie’s movement. Where are you going?

Need my hair gel.

Why?

’Cuz there’s always someone who wants a breathtaking first impression of me.

Jason rolled his eyes. Hey, Reggie?

What?

I got a great idea.

What?

Shut up. We didn’t enter you in a dog show. We’re having band practice.

Reggie frowned. This is why girls don’t wanna go out with you.

Jason herded him out the door with a bit of unnecessary force, nearly causing Reggie to lose his balance and fall over.

Billy could taste the moisture still in the air from yesterday’s ferocious chain of thunderstorms. Today’s humidity was going to be brutal.

Billy looked towards the row of barracks across the roadway. The music was even more agitating outside. The three dancing girls looked to be in their early twenties. A girl with short hair turned directly towards Billy and his band mates, and it looked as if she was yelling something at them. The music kept him from making out the girl’s words, but her tone sounded unhappy. Almost demanding.

Billy turned his head away and kept walking.

The yelling got louder.

Billy kept ignoring it.

He led his band mates directly towards the band’s practice shed.

Calvin’s screen tapping became heavier, sounding to Billy as if he was stabbing at the tablet in anger.

Connection to our band’s web site is slow, Calvin finally said. It got real slow last night, too, just before I went to bed. I thought it was because of the storm we had.

Ask our web guy, Dat, if he can find out what’s going on.

Just sent him an email. Except, it’s hanging.

Same host company?

Calvin showed a wrinkled smile. Yep. I’ll text him, instead.

Billy walked up to the shed door and started dialing ther security code. Let’s just hope that---

An annoying horn sounded from the roadway.

Good morning, everyone, Mr. Laypus’ voice sang out.

The teens yawned and grumbled in response.

The lean and fit 50-something park manager drove up in one of the park’s SUVs, with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other holding a cup of coffee.

Mr. Laypus stepped out of the SUV and studied the five teens. Billy wasn’t sure