Chords, claws and coffee on the road...

Author: Thane Page 3 of 20

Hometown Ruckus

The sun was just dipping behind the buildings in downtown Columbus as the crowd filled in tight around the small outdoor stage—set up right beside the neighborhood rec center where Jonah had spent most of his childhood afternoons drumming on plastic chairs and soda crates. It wasn’t a massive festival. It wasn’t a fancy amphitheater. It was better.

It was his block.

Thane stood behind the mix station at the side of the stage, double-checking every line and trim level. Mark adjusted the front light rig with his usual calm precision, letting the sunset do most of the work. Gabriel paced with a wild grin and an extra shot of espresso in his system, completely giddy. Cassie stretched out her voice with Maya and Rico nearby, all of them smiling at the scene. There were kids on shoulders. Families hanging off porches. Dogs barking. The kind of crowd that knew each other and knew Jonah—even if they didn’t know he was about to walk out onto that stage.

He stood just offstage, frozen, staring.

Gabriel nudged him. “You okay, man?”

Jonah was blinking fast, lips pressed together. “That’s Marcus. He’s here. And Dee. And—holy crap, that’s Luis! I haven’t seen him since we graduated. And they’re all—they’re all wearing Feral Eclipse shirts?!

Thane’s voice came through the in-ear comm. “They’re fans, Jonah. You’re a hero here. Go give ‘em a show.”

Cassie leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “C’mon, percussion prince. Time to break your own sound barrier.”

The lights flickered. The stage fog spilled low. Jonah stepped up to the kit, heart pounding louder than the kick drum.

The crowd exploded.

From the second they kicked into the opening song, the neighborhood turned into a riot of joy. Jonah’s friends were front row, screaming the lyrics, arms in the air, jumping so hard the barricade flexed. Marcus held up a cardboard sign that read “FROM MILK CRATES TO LEGEND” with duct-tape lettering. Luis was air-drumming in perfect sync—he remembered every fill.

Rico let loose a searing solo and the whole front row threw up the devil horns. Maya barked into her mic with fire. Cassie pointed straight at Jonah’s old crew mid-song and shouted, “This one’s for the ones who never gave up!” And Jonah… Jonah was flying.

Each beat hit like a memory. Each crash cymbal was a chapter closing. He was crying halfway through the second song and didn’t care who saw. His friends chanted his name between songs. Even the older neighbors, who used to yell at him for “making too much racket,” were clapping along.

They played a full set. No holding back. Even slipped Burn the Brakes into the encore, because the crowd demanded chaos. By the time the final chorus hit and Jonah flung a stick into the crowd, the entire block looked like it had survived a rock ‘n roll hurricane.


Backstage was a makeshift area under an old gazebo strung with café lights. The band sprawled out on folding chairs, sweaty and glowing.

Jonah sat in the middle of it all, a paper plate of barbecue in one hand, and a nearly-empty bottle of soda in the other. He hadn’t stopped smiling in over an hour.

His friends filtered in slowly, one by one. Marcus gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Bro. You didn’t just make it—you brought us with you.

Luis laughed, wiping his eyes. “You used to bang on trash cans outside this rec center. Now you’re making the pavement shake!”

Dee shoved a wristband in his face. “You gave us ALL ACCESS? You serious right now?”

“I told them to treat you like royalty,” Thane said from the edge of the circle, crossing his arms with a small grin. “You deserve it.”

Mark nodded once, standing beside him. “We take care of our own.”

Cassie passed Jonah a warm towel and a bottle of water. “You just baptized Columbus in rhythm, dude.”

Jonah looked around, eyes shining. “This… this is the best night of my life.”

Gabriel dropped into the seat beside him, bouncing a leg with leftover adrenaline. “So. We thinking Columbus gets its own leg of the next tour?”

Jonah burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You maniacs. You actually did this.”

“We’re pack,” Gabriel said, bumping shoulders with him. “This is what we do.”

As the night settled in and the stars blinked on over the skyline, laughter and music drifted from the gazebo. Friends reconnected. Bandmates rested their bones. And Jonah, once just a broke kid with a dream, now sat surrounded by love, sound, and everything he never thought he’d have.

And somewhere in the distance, a group of neighborhood kids banged on trash cans like drums, just loud enough for Jonah to hear.

He smiled.

A Beat From Home

The tour bus rolled steady down the interstate, somewhere between Missouri and their next booked venue. The world outside was all blurred farmland and gray sky, but inside the bus, things were unusually quiet.

Jonah sat at the little dinette near the kitchenette, his usual chaotic energy gone. He wasn’t tapping his sticks. He wasn’t juggling energy drinks. He wasn’t even humming. Just… staring out the window, eyes distant, fingers idly tracing the rim of an empty cup.

Mark watched him for a while from across the lounge. At first, he said nothing—just sat there, arms crossed, brown eyes quietly observant. But when Jonah passed up his usual third helping of mid-afternoon snacks and let the coffee pot beep without jumping for a refill, Mark stood up.

He dropped into the seat across from Jonah with all the subtlety of a falling amp.

“You’re too quiet,” he said flatly.

Jonah blinked, startled. “Huh?”

“You haven’t annoyed me once today. I’m concerned.”

A ghost of a smile passed across Jonah’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

Mark didn’t reply. Just waited. The kind of silence that invited honesty without pressure. Jonah sighed and leaned back.

“It’s just… this life is amazing, y’know? The bus, the fans, the shows… but I keep thinking about home. Columbus. My old block. My buddies who never got out. We used to bang on trash cans and plastic tubs just to pretend we had drums. Now I’ve got a kit worth more than my old apartment, and they’re still there—same clothes, same jobs, same problems.”

Mark was quiet for a beat longer than usual. Then he nodded.

“You feel guilty.”

Jonah looked away. “Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t. But I get it.”

Mark didn’t say much else. He just stood, gave Jonah a firm clap on the shoulder, and walked straight to the back of the bus where Thane and Gabriel were sitting over a shared muffin.

“Jonah’s off,” he said bluntly. “Thinking about Columbus. Missing his people. Blaming himself.”

Gabriel’s ears perked up immediately. “What?”

Thane looked up too, his brow furrowing. “How bad?”

“He’s not tapping.”

Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s serious serious.

There was half a second of shared silence before Gabriel slapped the table. “Okay. Change of plans.”

Thane blinked. “You wanna reroute the entire tour?”

Gabriel nodded. “Damn right I do. We’re playing Columbus.”

Thane raised a brow. “You mean schedule a future show?”

“No,” Gabriel said firmly, already reaching for his phone. “I mean we go now. Screw the routing. We’ll find a venue near Jonah’s old neighborhood, we’ll comp every single one of his friends, and we give that boy the most chaotic, heartfelt, homegrown, boot-stomping show of his life.”

Mark crossed his arms and nodded once. “He’ll never see it coming.”


A few days later, the tour bus pulled into Columbus under cover of night. Jonah thought they were en route to Chicago. He didn’t even realize they’d gone off course until Gabriel dropped a folded map in his lap that just read “Welcome Home.”

Thane was already at will-call, handing over a folded list of names. “All-Access passes and VIP wristbands. Make sure every single one of them gets the red carpet.”

When Jonah finally stepped onto the small stage tucked into the heart of his old neighborhood rec center—draped in lights, packed with screaming locals, and the smell of hot food and cheap beer wafting through the summer air—he just stood there for a second, overwhelmed.

Gabriel stepped up beside him, whispering, “We didn’t just bring the music. We brought your people too.”

Jonah swallowed hard, then nodded.

And then, with a wide, shaky grin, he raised his sticks… and brought the house down.

Jimmy the Ska Goat

(Inspired by true-ish events and Diesel’s caffeine-fueled trauma)


[Intro – Spoken, Cassie, over light upstroke guitar]
“Gather round…
This one’s for the horned hero who skanked into legend…”

[Cue brass: trumpet blares, trombone wah-wahs, full skank beat kicks in]


[Verse 1 – Cassie]
He was born in the shade of a Ferris wheel,
With a rebel heart and hooves of steel.
Stole some beer, caused a scene,
Joined the band at just fifteen (months).


[Pre-Chorus – Gabriel, yelling]
Bell on his neck, ska in his soul!
Headbutt rhythm with zero control!


[Chorus – Full Band]
🎺 JIMMY THE SKA GOAT! 🐐
Drank a keg and stole the show!
🎺 JIMMY THE SKA GOAT!
Blew a solo on a traffic cone!
🎺 JIMMY THE SKA GOAT!
Never missed a beat or a bar fight!
Now he’s skankin’ in the spotlight—
Legends wear fur and horns tonight!


[Verse 2 – Cassie]
Caught a twister outside Scottsbluff,
Band was screaming, roads were rough.
Jimmy stood with eyes ablaze—
Climbed the amp and raised the bass!


[Bridge – Rico (shouting over brass mayhem)]
Cow flew by the passenger door!
Trumpets blared, the goat wanted more!
I swear on my strings and my spine—
That freakin’ goat kept us in time!


[Chorus – All, now with crowd call-backs]
🎺 JIMMY THE SKA GOAT! (GOAT! GOAT!)
King of chaos, lord of brass!
🎺 JIMMY THE SKA GOAT! (BLOW THAT HORN!)
Turned that storm into a backstage pass!
🎺 JIMMY THE SKA GOAT!
Now he’s got a llama wife,
Living that retired life—
But he’ll always skank in our hearts tonight!


[Final Breakdown – Jonah’s drums go wild, brass riffing chaos]
Gabriel shouts between slaps:
“I SAW HIM DO A BACKFLIP OFF A SNARE DRUM!”
Cassie: “He headbutted the mayor!”
Rico: “He ATE MY SETLIST!”


[Outro – Soft horn fade, Cassie whispering]
Some goats eat cans…
Jimmy ate encores.


[Cue crowd chanting:]
🎺 JIMMY! JIMMY! JIMMY! 🐐

The Goat That Skanked Through a Tornado

(As told by Diesel, with wildly questionable accuracy.)

It was a late night on the road somewhere between Wichita and nowhere, and the bus was quiet—too quiet. Gabriel was passed out in a pile of blankets with a coffee cup still in his hand. Rico and Jonah were mid-chess match using bottle caps and guitar picks. Cassie was journaling by the soft glow of her bunk light, and Thane sat at the back monitoring levels through a tablet, one ear always tuned for feedback.

Then Diesel’s gravelly voice echoed from the front lounge.

“You ever outrun a tornado with a ska band and a drunk goat on board?”

Dead silence.

Mark poked his head out of his bunk. “…What.”

Gabriel sat up slowly. “Okay, wait. Back up.”

Diesel leaned back in his seat, took a slow sip of coffee, and stared into the middle distance like a man who had seen things.

“1997. Nebraska Panhandle. I’m driving this mid-tier ska band—real energetic types, always wore matching vests, had a brass section that could knock your teeth out from fifty yards. Band name was Third Degree Skank.”

Jonah immediately lost it laughing.

Diesel continued, unfazed. “We played a county fair gig outside Scottsbluff. It was one of those ‘pay in corndogs and exposure’ deals. They crushed it—blew the bluegrass band off the stage. We were just about to leave when one of the trumpet players shows up holding a goat.”

Cassie blinked. “…Like, a real goat?”

“Yep. Real goat. Horns. Bell. Name was Jimmy.”

“Who names a goat Jimmy?” Mark muttered.

“This guy. Anyway — turns out Jimmy was the unofficial fair mascot. Somehow got into the beer tent, drank half a keg of warm Miller Lite, and then refused to leave the brass section. Followed ‘em right into the bus. I tried to kick him out, he headbutted the amp rack and made himself a nest in a pile of gig towels.”

Gabriel clutched his stomach, already wheezing. “He drank beer and joined the band?!”

Diesel nodded solemnly. “Wouldn’t let the trombone player out of his sight. Started headbanging to the offbeats like he was born in a Jamaican basement. But then…”

He paused. “Storm rolls in. No warning. Sirens start blaring. I look at the radar—it’s spinning like a blender full of angry bees. Tornado drops right behind us as we’re pulling out. So here I am: hauling a barely-tuned RV full of brass instruments, a half-sober ska band, and a completely blitzed goat, doing ninety-five down a gravel highway with cows flying past the windows.”

“NO WAY,” Jonah shouted.

“I yell at everyone to stay down, and what do they do? They start jamming. Jimmy starts headbutting the wall in time. Trumpets blaring, drums slamming. It’s the most off-the-wall ska set I’ve ever heard, and it’s happening inside the bus while I’m dodging barn debris and praying to every deity known to man.”

Cassie was crying with laughter. “What happened to the goat?!”

“Pulled over an hour later. Tornado missed us by maybe half a mile. Band wrote a song about it called Jimmy the Ska Goat. Minor underground hit. Jimmy retired a hero and now lives on a llama farm in Oregon.”

Gabriel was howling. “WE NEED TO COVER THAT SONG.”

Mark mumbled, “I don’t believe a word of this.”

Diesel just sipped his coffee, deadpan. “Believe what you want. But I still got goat hair in the ventilation system of that rig.”

Thane, from his console, didn’t even look up. “Add that one to the tour scrapbook.”

Boise Blowout

The city lights of Boise glimmered beyond the tinted windows of the tour bus as it glided into the alley behind the Knitting Factory Concert House. The crowd out front was already swelling—hundreds of fans buzzing with anticipation, their voices echoing down the street as they shouted lyrics and howled in playful tribute to their favorite band.

Inside the bus, the energy was electric. Gabriel paced the lounge, espresso in one hand and bass slung over his shoulder. “This is going to be legendary,” he muttered, eyes gleaming with caffeine-fueled chaos. “If I don’t slap this bass hard enough to summon Jorge’s ghost, what are we even doing?”

Cassie sat cross-legged on the floor near the bunks, finalizing a lyric change with a smirk. “We literally wrote this thing two days ago, and they’re already chanting the chorus outside.”

Thane tightened a cable wrap in his hands, grinning at the sound of the crowd. “That’s how you know it’s got staying power. Tacos and tragedy—it’s the perfect rock recipe.”

Mark stood silently near the door, adjusting the lighting cues one last time on his tablet. “I’ve programmed a strobe hit for every mention of hot sauce. You’re welcome.”

Diesel was already out front by the time they stepped off the bus, standing beside the security crew with his arms folded, watching the chaos unfold with that same unreadable expression. The moment Gabriel caught his eye, he raised his cup like a toast.

Backstage was all motion and adrenaline. Techs scurried to their stations, the smell of fog juice clung to the air, and the final click of wireless packs and guitar tuners filled the narrow hallway. Then, the house lights dropped, the room roared to life, and the band took the stage to an eruption of cheers.

Thane stepped up first, gripping the mic. “This one’s for a legend… and the best damn hot sauce Idaho ever saw.”

The band exploded into the opening verse—gritty guitars and pounding drums setting the stage as Cassie belted the story of a doomed taco stand and a skydiver named Jorge with the power of a metal siren. Gabriel leaned hard into the slap-bass groove, howling backup lines between grins, while Jonah threw his whole body into the beat with relentless, joyful energy.

“Burn the brakes!
Don’t stop the flame!
Hot sauce flyin’ like a runaway train!”

The audience chanted every word, jumping and howling in sync. At the bridge, Rico unleashed a blistering solo that practically smoked the strings, while Gabriel screamed, “THE SALSA LIVES ON!”

On the side of the stage, Diesel watched with a single brow raised, then—just barely—cracked a smile.

The song ended in an eruption of lights and distortion, the crowd roaring in approval. Cassie stepped back from the mic, winded and grinning. “That’s what happens when you let the bass player near an espresso machine.”

The crowd laughed, still screaming and stomping their feet.

Gabriel leaned into the mic again, still catching his breath. “Alright… okay… we’re not done with you yet, Boise.”

Without missing a beat, Jonah counted them into the next number, the opening kick and snare hits driving the crowd wild again as the band launched into a fan favorite—an old-school track from their first viral EP. Gabriel slammed back into rhythm with a full-throttle grin, while Mark’s lights painted the venue in pulsing red and violet.

The set roared forward like a train with no brakes. They hit five more songs in a blistering finale, each one tighter and more intense than the last. Every band member leaned into it—sweat flying, muscles burning, hearts pounding with the rush of a show gone right.

When the last note of the final song rang out and the lights dimmed to a low amber glow, the band stood in silence for just a second, letting the crowd’s cheers wash over them.

Gabriel stepped up beside Thane, bumping shoulders. “We have to keep that one in the setlist,” he said between gasps. “The people need to know about Jorge.”

Thane laughed, slinging a cable back over his shoulder. “Yeah. But only if we follow it up with a serious track. Balance.”

“Balance is boring,” Jonah shouted from behind the kit, “but okay!”

They took their bows as the lights rose, the crowd chanting their name again and again. Somewhere in the back, someone held up a hot sauce bottle like a lighter, waving it triumphantly in the air.

Backstage, Diesel met them with a rare full smile and a slow nod. “You kids just made salsa history.”

Thane clapped him on the shoulder as they filed back onto the bus. “Next time, we’re telling the goat story.”

Diesel just grunted and walked to the front of the rig, muttering, “Better start brewing coffee for that one.”

Burn the Brakes (Save the Salsa)

Later that night, the bus was parked at a scenic rest stop overlooking a pine valley. Everyone was still buzzing from Diesel’s taco truck tale, and somehow, somewhere between Gabriel’s fifth espresso and Jonah’s sixth soda, the idea was born.

“We have to make that a song,” Jonah declared, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a snare practice pad. “Like… a full-on, crunchy riff, dramatic vocals—this is the kind of story that demands distortion.”

Rico chuckled from his bunk, flipping his pick between his fingers. “I’m in, but I swear if you make me sing about salsa in a minor key again…”

“I’ll write it!” Cassie said, grabbing a notepad. “Title’s already gold. Burn the Brakes, Save the Salsa. How’s this for the first verse?”

We were ghosts on the road with nowhere to be,
A metal band crashing through destiny,
Stopped for tacos, fate took the wheel,
Now Jorge’s gone ninja, and this is real.

Thane was behind the console station with a smirk, nodding along. “You know what? It slaps.”

Gabriel jumped up, air-bassing dramatically, tail flicking wildly. “I’m putting in a slap solo! Jorge deserves slap!”

Mark didn’t even look up from the lighting console where he was programming mood settings for the studio. “I want a strobe light every time someone says ‘hot sauce.’”

Cassie scribbled furiously. “Okay, chorus, chorus… how about—”

Burn the brakes!
Don’t stop the flame!
Hot sauce flyin’ like a runaway train!
Jorge jumps and the stand goes down—
But the salsa lives on in this town!

Gabriel howled in laughter. “YES! YES!! This is art!”

Diesel, sitting quietly in the front lounge, cracked the barest grin. “You kids are ridiculous.”

Jonah tapped his sticks together. “Bridge time. We need a breakdown where Rico just wails on a guitar solo while someone yells about spicy peppers.”

Rico raised a brow. “I mean… I could channel some serious chipotle fury.”

Gabriel nodded gravely. “Let the spirit of Jorge possess your fretboard.”

Thane, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his cup, reached over to the soundboard and hit RECORD. “Alright. Let’s do a scratch take. If this ends up on the next album, I’m blaming the driver.”

Cassie grinned. “We’ll call it The Diesel Sessions.”

Diesel sipped his coffee. “Just don’t spell my name wrong on the credits.”

Diesel Tales & Dashboard Legends

The sun was hanging low over the Oregon forest as the bus rolled smoothly along a twisting mountain highway. Inside, the lounge was unusually quiet—everyone half-comatose from too much espresso and too little sleep. The smell of coffee still clung to the air, but the vibe had mellowed into that late-afternoon calm where no one wanted to move unless it was absolutely necessary.

Then the bus slowed a bit, not braking, just gliding more gently along the road.

Rico peeked up from his phone. “We breaking down?”

“Nah,” Diesel rumbled from the cockpit. “Just easing up before the hairpin. Saw a logging truck flip on this stretch once. Took out three cars and a taco stand.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Gabriel was the first to sit up, ears perked. “Wait, what?!”

Cassie leaned her head out from behind a bunk curtain. “Taco stand?”

Mark, already seated with his tablet, raised a brow. “All right. You’ve got our attention.”

Thane chuckled, standing and moving up toward the front with his coffee in hand. “Okay, spill it, old man. What happened?”

Diesel kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other gesturing loosely as if he were just ordering a sandwich, not reliving total chaos. “’93. Northern Idaho. I was haulin’ a metal band in an RV that smelled like beer, leather, and unresolved childhood trauma. They made me pull over for tacos from this roadside cart at the base of Cougar Pass.”

Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Solid decision.”

“Yeah, except the taco guy was this ex-skydiver named Jorge who used to hang his hot sauce bottles from the ceiling by parachute cord. No idea why.”

Mark muttered, “You’re makin’ this up.”

Diesel ignored him. “So we’re standing there, tacos in hand, when this overloaded logging truck comes barreling down the pass like it’s late for Armageddon. Misses the curve. Tips the whole rig into the stand. Tacos go flyin’. Jorge dives through the service window and somersaults into a ditch. Like a ninja.”

Thane’s eyes widened. “You’re serious.”

“He had a broken wrist and a bag of jalapeños in his teeth when we found him.”

Jonah gasped. “That’s the most metal thing I’ve ever heard.”

“And the band?”

“Wrote a song about it,” Diesel said, smirking. “Called it ‘Burn the Brakes, Save the Salsa.’ You’ve probably heard it. Big on college radio in the late ‘90s.”

Everyone stared.

Cassie snorted first. Then Gabriel cracked up, tail wagging. Mark just shook his head. “I need to start writing this stuff down.”

Diesel kept his sunglasses on, completely unfazed. “I’ve got stories from twenty-eight states, four countries, and one really sketchy ferry crossing in Newfoundland. Y’all sit tight long enough, I’ll tell you ‘bout the time I outran a tornado with a ska band and a drunk goat.”

Thane grinned and leaned against the dashboard frame. “You’re hired for life, old man.”

Diesel just grunted, shifting gears. “Yeah. I figured.”

All Aboard the Chaos Express

That night, after a killer show in Portland, the crew piled into the new tour bus, their gear already stashed neatly in undercarriage bays and locked-down racks. Inside, the soft glow of ambient LED lights wrapped the cabin in a calming hue as the engine purred quietly beneath them.

Thane stood in the middle of the main lounge, arms stretched wide. “Welcome to the rest of your lives, folks.”

Cassie was already sprawled across one of the L-shaped couches, head back, sipping from a chilled soda. “This is so much better than that sweaty van.”

Jonah was bouncing from couch to bunk to kitchenette, poking everything. “Yo, the shower has water pressure! Like… actual water pressure!”

Mark was in his bunk already, curtain pulled, muttering, “If any of you wake me up tonight, I’m rewiring the DMX console to scream.”

Rico found the back lounge and groaned with happiness as he sunk into a recliner. “Yeah, I’m never going home.”

Gabriel, meanwhile, was still at the espresso bar, fawning over the stainless-steel machine like it was sacred. “This thing’s got dual boilers… I can steam and pull at the same time… this is… I don’t even have words.” He looked up at Thane with soft, misty eyes. “I love you more now.”

Thane chuckled, leaning on the frame. “You say that every time I give you caffeine.”

Diesel, behind the wheel, called out without turning around, “You wake me up after midnight, you better be bleeding or on fire.”

Everyone laughed.

Later that night, Gabriel climbed into his bunk across from Thane’s, a mug of fresh espresso still in hand. “Cozy,” he murmured, eyes closing, claws curled over the soft blanket. “I could get used to this.”

“You’d better,” Thane replied with a yawn. “We’ve got a thousand miles to go.”


At 6:47 AM, the entire tour bus jolted awake to the sound of whirring, hissing, and a maniacal giggle.

Gabriel, wearing nothing but basketball shorts and a Feral Eclipse hoodie, was behind the espresso bar like a mad scientist. Four mugs steamed in a row. Milk frothed. Espresso poured. The smell of roasted beans hit the bunks like a tidal wave.

Jonah staggered out, hair a mess. “Dude. Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” Gabriel grinned wide, tail swishing. “I’m achieving perfect crema on a Kenyan single-origin ristretto pull. Look!”

Cassie stumbled out next, squinting. “You’ve been up for how long?”

“Since five. I wanted to dial in the grind size. Also, I made you a flat white. Extra vanilla. You’re welcome.”

Diesel emerged from the driver’s bunk, fully dressed, sunglasses already on, and looked at the scene without a word. He grabbed the mug labeled “Driver’s Only” and downed it in one go.

“I don’t not like him,” he muttered, nodding at Gabriel.

Mark appeared last, wrapped in a blanket, holding up a handwritten sign that read: “NO SOUND BEFORE COFFEE.”

Then a sudden BANG! echoed from the back lounge.

Rico’s voice: “Okay, I think the espresso made Jonah speed up the Xbox fans. Or maybe the fans made him speed up. I dunno!”

Gabriel held up a fresh cup to Thane, tail still swishing. “Double shot? Triple? Cinnamon dusted?”

Thane took the mug with a groggy smile. “You’ve turned into a barista werewolf.”

Gabriel beamed. “I regret nothing.”

We Ride in Style Now

The Portland morning was cool and misty, the kind of Pacific Northwest gray that clung to your fur and made your coffee taste even better. The band had just wrapped sound check at the Keller Auditorium, groggy from another night crammed into the battle-worn tour van.

Everyone stood in the parking lot, bleary-eyed and half-awake—until Mark stepped forward and clapped his hands loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “Hey,” he said with a rare grin, “We figured it was time.”

That’s when the sleek, custom black-and-silver tour bus pulled around the corner with a deep rumble, chrome polished to a mirror shine, LED underglow lighting winking faintly in the fog. The back bore the Feral Eclipse logo, massive and proud.

Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “No way…”

The door hissed open, and out stepped a grizzled, stone-faced man in a black leather vest, faded jeans, and mirrored aviators. Silver beard, weather-beaten skin, and an air of pure “seen it all.” He nodded once, slowly. “Name’s Diesel. I drive. You don’t bother me before coffee. And you never puke in my rig.”

Thane grinned wide, arms crossed. “Told ya we were done slumming it.”

Inside, the bus was a dream: high-end lighting, plush seating areas with fold-out tables, a soundproof back lounge with console hookups, and eight pristine sleeping bunks with personal reading lights and charging stations.

But what made Gabriel actually yelp with joy? The full Starbucks-grade espresso bar tucked near the kitchen, gleaming and humming.

He bolted straight to it. “I AM NEVER LEAVING THIS BUS.”

Cassie blinked. “Is that a—does that say La Marzocco?!”

Rico muttered, “Oh, we’re gonna live on this thing.”

Diesel just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold with an amused grunt. “Y’all are gonna be fun.”

Ink Me Like One of Your Werewolves

The documentary crew had just wrapped their final day on the road with Feral Eclipse, and to their credit, none of them had quit—though their sound guy had developed a persistent eye twitch and their assistant editor quietly vowed never to film another live music act again.

Their goodbye interviews were a mess of tangled cables, spilled coffee, and Maya threatening to tattoo a QR code linking to their worst gig. Brennan, the ever-stoic director, finally snapped his clipboard in half during a shot ruined by Jonah launching a beach ball across the lounge mid-interview.

By the time the crew rolled away in their rented Suburban, Thane had one clawed hand covering his face and muttered, “They survived. Barely.”

“Honestly,” Gabriel said from the counter, licking peanut butter off a spoon, “they should’ve thanked us. We gave them a career.”

Cassie snorted. “Yeah. Or trauma.”

Rico looked up from his phone with a slow grin creeping across his face.

“Speaking of trauma…” he said.

Thane groaned. “Oh no.”

Rico spun his phone around. “So I may or may not have just posted a contest on all our socials.”

Mark looked up. “What did you do.”

Gabriel perked up immediately. “Oooh, is it illegal?”

“Better,” Rico beamed. “Fan tattoo contest.”


Within twenty-four hours, #FeralInkEclipse was trending globally.

Thousands of submissions poured in. Some were expected—lyrics, pawprints, Gabriel’s signature, Cassie’s mic silhouette. Others… not so much.

A guy in Cincinnati got a full-back mural of Thane in silhouette howling at a blood-red moon.

A woman from Sweden inked Maya’s entire face across her bicep with the caption: “My patronus.”

Someone in Brazil got a tattoo of Mark’s scowling face in hyper-realistic detail… on their thigh.

Jonah found one of himself, cartoon-style, riding a flaming drumkit over a werewolf-shaped rollercoaster. He cried laughing. “I’m majestic.”


The band decided to host a live reveal party at a small venue outside Portland—full media coverage, prizes, meet-and-greet, and a few tattoo artists on standby for spontaneous entries. Gabriel even insisted on a fog machine. “For ambiance,” he claimed.

Fans arrived with sleeves rolled up, pants legs pulled up, and nervous grins on their faces. Some were elaborate. Some… deeply regrettable.

One girl had the entire lyrics to Blood Moon Revival spiraling down her spine in crimson script. Cassie burst into tears.

A hulking biker dude named Tank stepped forward with the band’s logo burned across his chest. “You guys saved my life,” he said softly. “I was at rock bottom until I heard your music. Now I’m clean. Haven’t missed a show since St. Louis.”

Gabriel hugged him like a brother. “Dude, you rock harder than we do.”


Then came the chaos.

A college student lifted his shirt to reveal a tattoo of Gabriel’s face… mid-howl… covering his entire stomach. It was slightly warped and oddly shaded.

There was a long silence.

Thane blinked. “That looks like if Gabriel and a velociraptor had a child.”

Gabriel couldn’t breathe. “Oh my GOD. That’s a crime.”

Jonah pointed. “Why are the eyes that wide?!”

Mark, utterly deadpan: “Looks like it saw itself in a mirror and died.”

The crowd lost it. The guy grinned proudly. “No regrets!”


In the end, the grand prize went to a shy, blue-haired girl with a tattoo of the full band lineup inked around her ankle—each member drawn as adorable chibi wolves in their signature outfits. It was flawless.

“Your pack keeps me going,” she whispered.

Gabriel gave her a signed bass pick. Cassie kissed her forehead. Maya gave her backstage passes to every show on the next leg.


Later that night, as the band loaded out into the cool Oregon evening, Gabriel nudged Thane with a smirk.

“Think we should do another contest next month?”

Thane gave him a tired but fond look. “Only if the winner doesn’t get my face on their butt.

“Too late,” Gabriel grinned. “That entry was from Montreal.

Mark walked by, sipping soda, and muttered, “We’re gonna need a legal department.”

And somewhere, in a tattoo parlor far away, an artist etched the words “Claws and Chaos Forever” across someone’s collarbone… while humming Blood Moon Revival.

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