“Schatzi, I’m sorry, but we need to do this.  I hereby call a vote on the first single’s release date.”

“Seriously Cole, we’re not ready!”  She begged him.

It was times like this she was a bit tad resentful the band had elected to stay indie, which was the subject of their last vote.  Despite the killer success of John’s event in Philadelphia, which showcased the industry’s best up and comers, they decided to not to sign with him.  She was certain, if they were with C.S. Records, this vote wouldn’t even be called for because he had to have believed they weren’t near ready.  The label after all, sets the date of release based on the band’s current progress.

“I second it, we need to make a decision.”  Seth added nodding in agreement.

“Dang it.”  She grumbled and reached in the drawer to count out the cutlery, however, little did she know, her grumpy manager was about to save her butt.

“Wait, I don’t have your balls!”  Angela exclaimed looking panicked.

“WHAT?”  Moonbeam and Simone asked her in unison.

Yeah, that didn’t sound like she intended.  Then again, with this perverted bunch, everything said is subject to conjecture.

“You can have my balls anytime.”  Drake told her quietly and stood behind her and snaked his arms around her waist.

Angela sat up straighter and blushed several shades of red, “I’m serious, Doc didn’t hand them over to me yet.”

“Hold up, what the hell are you talking about, their balls?”  Simone asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

“She’s right, no balls, no vote!”  Alex said excitedly putting the butter knives on the counter.

“Nein, we don’t need our balls.”  Cole waved her off.

“Seriously!  What?”  Simone hollered at him.

“Doc has a purple Crown Royal bag of golf balls with the band members’ names on them.  When a vote is called for, his job is to oversee it so everything is fair.  He’s also a big fan of the show Survivor.  Now it’s up to me and I do NOT HAVE THE BALLS!”  Angela explained and panicked again.

“Mi amada, relax, we can hold the vote without them.”  Drake reassured and kissed her shoulder.

“But I want the balls.”  She said petulantly like a little three-year-old being denied her favorite toy from the store.

“You can have mine later all you want.”  He said softly in her ear to which she squirmed and blushed again and he asked the kitchen’s occupants, “Can we move this vote along, we have a closet to find.”

“Ja, and I have my wife to locate.  We need one of our own.  First things first, bring it in.”  He said, extending his arm and making a fist.

The other band members grumbled and mimicked him until all their fists were in the center of the kitchen island.

“I am not losing again, you fuckers, I mean it this time!”  Hiatt told them all, a determined look clearly planted on his puss.

“Then quit choosing scissors you big dumb doofus!”  His sister scowled at him.

“What the hell are they doing now?”  Simone asked Angela.

“Because there are now six band members, there’s the possibility of a tie vote.  So, they do rock, paper, scissors to determine whose vote will be counted twice to break one if necessary.”

“On three.  One, two, three.”

Seth, Drake and John were immediately eliminated.

“Totally bogus, you assholes planned that!”  Hiatt scowled at them.

“Again, with the scissors, are you serious?”  His sister asked him.

“Paper covers scissors!”

“It does not you dork, it cuts it!  Rock is the only thing which smashes scissors and paper covers rock!”  She educated him.

“Alright, hush up.  Again, and this one is for all the marbles ja?  On three, one, two, three.”

“THIS IS FUCKED UP!”  Hiatt yelled at the ceiling as he stood there, again, with scissors, while Alex and Cole both had paper.

“Do you have a brain at all?  This was your opportunity to choose rock!”  She asked her brother.

“I like scissors!”

“You like losing then!”

“Fuck sis, you are cranky.  I don’t care what we have on the schedule after lunch, we’re all taking a nap after this.”  He grumbled and his girl consoled him by giving him a squeeze.

“Can we get this show on the road, I’m starving and horny.”  Drake grumbled.

“In that exact order?”  His woman asked him with a smirk.

The rhythm guitarist had to think about it for a minute.

“We vote, we eat, and then we all have sex, agreed?”  Cole asked the group.