House Band
by: Joeanne (joeanne_b@hotmail.com)
betaed by Bodger
rated PG for some slightly suggestive dialogue

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There was a loud RRRRIIIPP as the fabric of time and space was pulled asunder, allowing five Canadians to step onto the sidewalk. They were a band on the run from their "Authors," a group of sadistic women who wrote really bizarre stories about them. Barenaked Ladies were on the move.

"So, this is Subreality," Ed Robertson said. The dark haired guitarist surveyed the area with his bright blue eyes. The sun was high in the multicolored sky, which was rather unusual since it was pouring rain. Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped again.

"It's really . . . um . . ." Words failed Jim Creeggan, the tall redhead.

"This place bites," Tyler Stewart, the large bald drummer snapped. "Why the hell are we here anyway?"

"Because, Tyler, if we weren't here, we'd be at the Authors' mercy," Steven Page explained as he cleaned his glasses.

Kevin Hearn looked at his bandmates with wide blue eyes. He said, giggling, "My Author's cute." The other four looked at him in disgust.

"KHR," they said in unison.

"So what do we do now that we're here?" Jim asked.

"Well," Steve started, "from what I was able to get from one of the Authors, there's a place called the TTPCTS Club. We'll be safe there."

"The TTPCTS Club?" Tyler asked.

"I have no idea what it is, I just know the abbreviation," Steve said.

"So how do you know we'll be safe there?" Tyler snapped.

"Because none of the other Authors know about it. The only reason that Author knew about it was from other fandom work. She's never visited Subreality so she won't suspect we're here," Ed explained.

"I love jumping from one unknown to another," Jim commented.

"Hey, whose turn was it to watch Kevin?" Steve asked.

"Mine, why?" Jim asked.

"Because he's run off again," Steve said. The others groaned.

"Great, five minutes and he's already gotten himself lost," Ed grumbled.

"We need to keep a leash on that boy," Tyler said.

"Only part of the time," Jim reminded.

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler snorted.

"How much do you want to bet that we find Kevin, we find this club?" Ed asked. They knew better than to bother betting.

After encountering three different versions of Scully, a burning bush, several British guys carrying towels and dragging around a depressed robot, and a young man who inexplicably turned into a woman, the foursome found their missing bandmate standing in front of a building. A brief glance at the sign above the door confirmed that this was in fact the TTPCTS Club.

"'Takes the Plot Concept Too Seriously' Club," Jim read aloud.

"Sounds perfect," Tyler said.

"Wait, do we have a plot concept?" Ed asked.

"Whatever it is, it's taken much too seriously," Steve said. The band shuddered as they remembered the horrific things they had been subjected to in the past few
stories. All except for Kevin, who was giggling and muttering something about raisons and his cousin Harland.

"We can't just walk in there without having a good reason for them to hide us," Jim pointed out.

"We ask for a job doing dishes or something?" Tyler asked.

"Or we could do what we do best," Ed said. He turned to Kevin, "Kevin, can you make something for me?"

"Okay," the keyboardist said with a wide smile. Ed whispered some instructions in his ear and Kevin nodded briskly. The keyboardist sat on the ground, pulled out some crayons and some sheets of paper and began to work.

"Where was he keeping them?" Steve asked.

"I don't want to know," Tyler replied. Kevin smiled in triumph as he put the last finishing touches to his masterpiece.

He held up a beautiful poster that read:

Wanted
Band to Play at TTPCTS Club
Rock and Roll Preferred
Name Own Price
Inquire Within

"That's a great poster, but what are we going to do with it?" Steve asked.

"We'll hang it outside and pretend that the management put it up. We'll 'inquire within' and--" Ed snapped his fingers, "Instant gig."

"Ed, what makes you think that this will work?" Steve asked.

"Look at this place," Ed gestured around. A young warrior sitting on top an eagle flew by with a little yapping dog following behind them.

"Let's go in," Tyler said, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. After hanging the poster up the others followed suit and the band entered the bar.

It was surprisingly empty and only a few bruised videogame fictives sat in the corner nursing their drinks. At the bar was a little red robot that looked like a gumball machine. He was holding up a newspaper and reading it, which was quite a feat for a 'bot with inoperable limbs.

Behind him a golden spindly robot was pacing back and forth, obviously bored.

Ed strolled up confidently to the bar and said, "Hi, we're Barenaked Ladies and we're here for the job."

The robot looked up from his newspaper at the five men. "Funny, you don't look like women," the robot said.

"And you aren't naked either," the golden robot cracked. "Thank God," he whispered to his companion.

"That's the name of our band," Ed explained.

"You've never heard of us?" Steve asked, slightly incredulous.

"We're robots, we don't get out much," the gold one snapped.

"You know, Brian Wilson? If I Had a Million Dollars?" Steve prodded.

"Jane? Enid?" Tyler added.

"Straw Hat and Old Dirty Hank? Spider in My Room?" Jim said.

"The Old Apartment? It's All Been Done?" Kevin said.

"One Week?" Ed asked.

"That last one sounds familiar," the red robot said.

"The Chickety China song?" Ed supplied dryly.

"That's it!" the red robot cried out, "Aren't you guys one hit wonders?" The band groaned in disbelief. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Deciding to ignore the abuse, Ed repeated, "We're here for the House Band job."

"What job?" the red robot asked. He turned to his golden companion, "Crow, do you remember Joel saying anything about hiring a house band?"

"No, but Joel doesn't tell me that kind of stuff anyway. You're the bartender, Tom," Crow reminded.

"Where did you see the ad?" Tom asked, feeling a little suspicious.

"On the poster outside," Jim said, helpfully.

If Tom had been built with eyes, he would have blinked. "There's no poster outside," he said evenly.

"I didn't draw it!" Kevin blurted out. The other four men stared at him in horror.

"KEVIN!" they yelled. The skinny man ducked his head in surprise at his friends' outburst.

"Um, what's going on here?" Tom asked. Normally, he was pretty up to speed on the comings and goings of Subreality, but this was still pretty strange.

The blonde frontman sighed. "I'm Steven Page, the guy with the loud mouth is Kevin Hearn, Tyler Stewart's our drummer, Jim Creeggan is the redhead, and this is Edward Robertson. We're in a band called Barenaked Ladies."

"We got that part," Crow snapped.

"We're on the run from our Authors--" Ed started.

"Authors? Around here we call them Writers," Tom explained.

"They are Canadian," Crow cracked.

"I thought you'd never heard of us," Tyler accused.

The golden robot shrugged, "I lied."

Ed groaned in frustration. "Our 'Writers' have been putting us in these horribly angsty situations and we--"

"Don't touch that!" Jim cried out. The bassist grabbed Kevin around the waist as the smaller man tried to climb over the bar to play with the beer tap. Jim hauled him away and sat him in a chair in the corner.

"What's with the Wonder Spaz?" Crow asked.

"Don't worry, once he phases out of 'child-like Kevin' he should be fine," Jim said.

"Phases?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, Kevin has three different versions of himself that he phases through," Jim explained. "There's 'child-like Kevin' who can hardly get out of his own way."

"And he's vulnerable to kidnapping or capture," Ed added.

"And there's 'regular-guy Kevin'," Jim started.

"He has a tendency to insult me," Tyler said.

"He also got laid when the rest of us didn't," Ed grumbled.

"You guys are married!" Jim protested.

"So?!" Tyler, Ed and Steve chorused.

"I would have slept with Ed," Steve joked.

"If we were lesbians?" Ed teased.

Steve scowled, "Don't go there."

Jim rolled his eyes. "And the last Kevin is 'soul-guy Kevin."

"He's the newest one so he's not fully developed yet," Steve said. "He's more. . . whole almost than the other Kevins. And he's a really cool guy too."

"How long do these phases last?" Tom asked, carefully watching Kevin as he rocked back and forth on his chair.

"It depends. They go away for a while when we perform, but we don't usually do that in stories," Jim said.

"So what do you want from us?" Tom asked.

"We want protection," Tyler said.

"Protection from what? You're band fictives, how bad can it be?" Tom asked.

"I sold my soul to the devil," Ed said evenly.

"I was taken to the Underworld and the others had to rescue me," Steve added.

"I was caught in an animal snare and nearly shot," Tyler said.

"I was nearly run over by a herd of caribou," Jim added.

"I fell off a cliff and got laid!" Kevin said eagerly. The others looked at him in disgust.

"Anyway. . . I was nearly beaten to death by a ghost," Ed said.

"We were all almost choked to death by the same ghost," Tyler said.

"We've been in a few car accidents. Some more serious than others," Jim added.

"Kevin's died and been turned into a werewolf," Ed said.

"I nearly had to reenact a scene from 'Deliverance'," Steve shuddered.

"Was it fun?" Tyler teased.

"Bite me, Ty," Steve snapped.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Hey! Steve is mine, Ty!" Ed joked, "Unless you want a threesome?"

Steve and Tyler launched into an impromptu version of "The Boy is Mine." Jim shook his head. "Guys, could you lay off the homo-erotic banter until after we get hired? You're scaring the robots."

Actually, the robots looked pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. Hearing the slight commotion, the sleepy-eyed manager of the TTPCTS Club stepped out of
the back room. Former janitor Joel Robinson ran a hand through his brown hair. "What's going on out here?" he asked, eyes widening at the small crowd by the counter.

Tom looked at his creator, "The Barenaked Ladies want to be our house band."

"It's just Barenaked Ladies," Steve reminded.

"Yeah. Anyway, they're hiding from their Writers and they'll play for a place to stay," Tom said.

"But aren't they a real band?" Joel asked.

"Yeah, but they're fictives too," Tom said.

"I'm not going to ask," Joel said. "So you're band fictives. I mean, it can't be that bad."

"We've been turned into women, turned into kids, turned into animals, shrunk to only a few inches tall, become superheroes chased by a mad scientist and been turned into Renaissance festival rejects," Tyler said.

"Those sound more like plots for a comedy," Joel pointed out.

"Have you ever had a period?" Steve asked. Joel shook his head. Steve leaned over the counter and pressed a finger to his lips. "Then close your mouth little man."

"Do we get the job?" Ed asked eagerly.

"I don't think we have much choice. We do need to see you play though," Joel said.

"Do you have instruments?" Jim asked. And lo and behold, thanks to the miracle of plot convenience, there were in fact musical instruments in storage. The band
quickly raced to set everything up.

Once Tyler set up his drums, he casually strolled over to Joel. "Hey, you want to see something?" he whispered. Joel raised an eyebrow and Tyler took it as an
affirmative. The drummer pulled out some photographs from his shirt pocket. They were of a scantily clad buxom woman trying on underwear.

Joel felt his face turn red. Trying to distract himself, he asked, "Who is she?"

"Remember when I said we turned into women? That's Steve in Victoria's Secret. He has no idea I have these," Tyler snickered under his breath. "You can have one if you want," Tyler said, shoving the photo into Joel's hand.

"Uhhh--" Joel wasn't really sure how he was going to get out of this.

"What are you looking at?" Ed asked, walking over. Tyler showed him the pictures and Ed nodded. "Can I have one?" Tyler handed him a picture.

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Jim asked, looking over Ed's shoulder. He looked up expectantly at Tyler and the drummer handed him a picture. Soon, Kevin
joined the little group.

The keyboardist giggled. "Can I have one?" Surprised, Tyler handed Kevin the last of his pictures.

"What the hell are you doing over there?" Steve asked.

"NOTHING!" the group of men chorused.

"Well, let's get started then," Steve said. The band had set up in a bar corner of the club that was just big enough for Steve and Ed to dance around in. After a few moments of preparation, the band was ready.

The band's greatest strength was its live performances and this one was no exception. They rocked and they rocked hard. It wasn't rock that was so hard as to be unobtainable though. The energy was high and Jim played his bass for all it was worth. Kevin performed his Britney Spears/Imperial Death March, much to the delight of the steadily growing number of patrons and Tyler beat out his "Not a Drum Solo" to hyper perfection.

"If I had a million dollars," Ed sang.

"We wouldn't have to run from our Writers!" Steve improvised.

"Or 'Authors' if you're Canadian," Kevin joked.

"Maybe we could hire hitmen for their plot bunnies," Ed said.

"Hell, I'd hunt them for free!" Tyler called out from behind the drumset.

"I thought you didn't like that kind of violence," Jim teased.

"Plot bunnies are fair game!" Steve retorted. The audience ate it up and started ordering more drinks.

Tom found himself bustling around like mad trying to take care of the glut of customers. Crow looked up at Joel, "What do you think?"

"I think this is a very good idea," Joel said simply and enjoyed the show.

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Disclaimers: The TTPCTS Club belongs to Bodger. Subreality was created by Kielle. Barenaked Ladies belong to themselves and Reprised Records. The characterizations, plot lines, and conceptualizations of BNL fictives belong to Coneycat, bnl-di, BNLGD, KevinHearnRules, ETTC, Raven, Barenaked Kat and myself.