Recording songs are usually fun. However, it isn't in this case. Freddie has some outrageous ideas that literally makes my jaw drop. "Operatics? Freddie, are you high again?"
"Not at this current moment, darling. Now, Roggie-poo, you're going to be fantastic. Come on now, my dear," Freddie ushered me into the vocal booth. I squirmed, but eventually gave in. Once Freddie has set his eye on something, there's no opposing him. This was the moment before I lost all of my masculinity.
"Galileo! Galileo! Galileo Figaro!" I sang in the highest voice I could muster. Freddie had a determined look on his face. As if there were room for growth. Oh lord.
"Higher."
I looked at Freddie in disbelief. The other 2 band members just had this sickening smug smirk plastered on both of their faces. But I knew how much Freddie's cowboy song meant to him. So I tried again. And again. And again. I sounded like a fucking whistle, I swear to god. When Freddie gave me a smile and a thumbs up through the window, I felt as if all of my problems in my life had just been solved. Oh wait. They did. Fuck you Farrokh Bulsara.
"Didn't know you were an opera singer," John sniggered. I threw a pillow at his smug face. Brian didn't say anything stupid, but I knew he wanted nothing more but to mock me. I took a seat next to him on the rather small 2 seater couch. I was a bit surprised when Brian completely tensed up as we made contact. I peered at him and it felt a lot as if he were trying really hard to avoid my eye contact. Weird fella, I thought.
Freddie's cowboy song was coming along. Honestly, it was actually kind of beautiful but also really fucking weird. We had completed the operatic section by dusk (thank god) and decided as a group to go home and get shitfaced.
"Here's to Galileo!" I raised my glass. The other 3 followed suit, and we all downed our vodka shots. It burnt my throat going down, the strong bitter taste lingering on my tongue. I whooped loudly. I probably had around 5 shots before I was drunk enough to not feel any shame in anything.
"John! Dance with me!" I demanded, pounding my fist on the counter. Deaky is an incredible dancer. I put a hand on his waist and another on his shoulder, and we slow danced to Elvis. Freddie stood up, marched towards us and split us up. "MY TURN WITH ROG!" He drunkenly exclaimed. "BACK OFF!" We danced together for a bit, our bodies so close our chests were touching. After a few songs, he squeezed my butt cheekily and walked off to pour himself another shot.
My world was spinning as I danced to some 60s disco song. John was passed out on the couch and Brian was dancing a few metres away from me. I approached him and gave his bottom a good ol' slap. He turned around and flashed me a big smile. Freddie handed us each a shot and we quickly downed them, eager to get absolutely fucked. Freddie was doing his own thing elsewhere when I started grinding against Brian's behind. That was the last thing I remember doing that night.