Maylor One-Shots

Bad Day

Curses weren't real. As a man of science, he knew that as fact. They weren't real and they never would be.

It was just a bad day.

First, his guitar string had snapped and slashed his cheek, then his car wouldn't start when he tried to go to the music store to get new strings. Deciding to take the bus, he waited in the rain for a whole hour before it arrived...only for it to pass him. At the bus stop.

He debated giving up, crawling into bed and away from the cruel thing surrounding him that was life, but no, Brian had shit to do. He couldn't go to practice with five out of six strings, Freddie'd have his head!

Ignoring the loud claps of thunder, he treaded on through the dreary London streets. A little rain never killed anyone.

'Unless you were a medieval peasant.' he thought bitterly.

After a long, indignant walk, he found himself at the music store. Most of the anger had past when he reached the door, the pure anticipation of being in a warm, dry store enough to give him hope and just enough happiness to relax his angrily scrunched up eyebrows.

He hated to walk around with such an angry expression, his height was intimidating enough without the sour look. He'd never wish to scare anybody.

Raising his arms to push open the door, it wouldn't budge. It was then he saw it.

'Sorry! We're Closed!' The red and white sign hung brightly in the clear glass door, mocking him.

"So sorry you are." He grumbled, turning on his toes to walk away from the wretched building. There were other music stores in London, countless even.

But that wasn't the point, the next closest one was a thirty minute walk from him and he'd already seen a bird get struck by lightning.

He even caught himself envying the roasted bird he saw, lying on the sidewalk.

Not able to leave the poor animal there, he pulled a previously discarded tissue from his pocket to pick up the blue bird, intending to move them to a better, more respectful spot. One where they wouldn't be absolutely trampled flat.

Seemed easy enough.

Only the bird wasn't dead and was now filled with insatiable vengeance and violence.

Brian yelled out in pain as the bird peck at his hand, scratch and flapped at him as he covered his face with one arm and waved his other arm around in a feeble attempt to get the bird away.

Seeming satisfied with the scratches he'd gotten in, the bird flew away to take full advantage of his second chance at life.

Brian found himself hoping the bird would slam into a window, his mind disregarding any kind vegetarian, animal lover thoughts.

Taking in a deep breath in attempt to calm the complete breakdown that had been pushing its way up his throat and began stinging in his eyes.

He couldn't cry, not in public. Not today.

Pulling himself together the best he could, he pushed forward. He headed onward to the next closest music shop, taking an eternity to finally reach the building.

The wave of relief that hit him when her saw the glowing 'open' sign was almost enough to make him cry.

Walking to the door with an almost manic smile, he heard a loud noise approaching, looking behind him just in time for a large truck to spray half the contents of a puddle onto him, the rainwater and muck coating his entire body, head to toe.