The six musicians were sitting in the living room, silently lost in their thoughts. They were starving, and all of them had lost hope that one day, they would get out of Trappy Farm. David got used to the idea, and awkardly tried to comfort Jonesy, Charlie, John and Bonzo, who were dying to see their wives and children. As for Keith, he did not worry much about Kim and Amanda: he knew he would not be welcomed home.
Bonzo took a look at his drumsticks he was holding, telling himself that he would not play behind Robert, Jimmy and Jonesy ever again. Just by looking at his face, Bonzo guessed that even Jonesy missed it.
Charlie was staring hopelessly at the broken telephone, which still was plugged. How could he tell Shirley goodbye?
John rested his hand on his grumbling stomach. He sighed and let his eyes stare at his fellow musicians. His thin and long lips pouted, and his eyebrows frowned. This deadly atmosphere had to change.
“Guys?” he whispered, not wanting to scare them.
They all turned their heads and looked at him with their empty eyes.
“I know that you're all... completely lost, but I think that we should do something, just to forget about our shitty situation for a minute or two.”
“And what do you expect to find in this fucking farm?” Charlie's voice snapped.
“You said you found an attic above your room! Perhaps we can find something there!”
Everybody seemed to be pleased about the idea. After all, onlu Charlie saw the attic, and their wish was to see something else than the rooms they wandered in everyday and now knew by heart.
Charlie nodded, and the others immediately jumped on their feet. Bonzo threw his drumsticks on the couch, somehow relieved to think about something else than Led Zeppelin and their situation.
The Stones' drummer led the others to his room, and walked up to the shelf behind whose books he found the button for the ladder to come down.
“Watch out, step back!” he said, removing the books hiding the button.
He pushed it and quickly ran back, avoiding the ladder, which fell loudly and squeaked. The attic was open.
Charlie made a hand sign, and they all followed him, climbing the ladder, some quicker than the others. David pulled the thin strings Charlie showed him, and therefore switched on the light.
Keith was fascinated by the amount of boxes there were. John opened one and smiled at the sight of old pictures and old music sheets. Jonesy noticed a ton of books and sat beside one pile, not caring much if his trousers got dirty. David noticed paintings resting against the wall, and stared at them for long minutes. Charlie pressed his back against the wall, crossing his arms and looking down. Before he reached a box, Bonzo noticed him and sighed. He walked up to his fellow drummer and rested a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Charlie... I know that you feel blue, just try to relax for a minute, huh?”
“I can't. I saw almost everything in this goddamn attic.”
Tears started to form in the Stones' dummer's eyes. Before Bonzo could reply, they heard a voice shouting behind them.
“Look guys! I'm Sherlock Moones!”
Obviously. Keith.
They all turned their heads to look at him and smiled widely when they saw him wearing a long dark jacket and a green Victorian cap. He was holding a pipe, whose edge was stuck between his pouting lips. Charlie allowed himself to chuckle, and even David laughed. Keith started to walk ridiculously in the attic, puffing a bit.
“Oh, there are footprints on the floor! Watson! Where are you Watson?!”
Playing the game, Jonesy jumped beside him, wearing a top hat he found in a box. He lifted up his chin and rested a hand on Keith's shoulder.
“Here I am, Mr. Moones!”
“Ooooh! My friend, I thought you got lost in the forest!”
“The only forest I got lost in turned into a book!”
“What a relief, Mr. Watson! I got scared for a moment!”
John was laughing, taking a look into the box they found clothes in. He rummaged through it and took out a sort of dark blue cape, which he tied around his neck. Charlie was laughing, and so was Bonzo.
“Oh, my dear Watson! I can feel that one of our arch enemies is coming!”
“Oh, really? Where's he?”
“HEEEERE I AM!”
John jumped before Keith and Jonesy, holding a broken piece of wood. Jonesy faked being terrified, and Keith chuckled.
“Oh my God! This is Count Deakyla!”
David covered his grinning mouth with a hand, feeling his stomach hurting badly.
“I am the one and only Count Deakyla! And what a surprise to meet Sherlock Moones and his dear Watson on my way!”
“My real name is Jonesyon, by the way” the Zeppelin's bassist laughed.
“VERY GOOD! Now, watch out, Count Deakyla may attack you!”
“Oh, I didn't know you were married to Brian!” Bonzo shouted.
“What?”
“You said 'Count Deakyla May'!”
John burst out laughing and high fived Bonzo. They removed their costumes, and looked at other things in the boxes. Bonzo patted Charlie's back. Charlie walked up to the boxes and looked at what it contained as well. Bonzo shouted, taking something out of one box.
“Oh my! A RUGBY BALL!”
“You play rugby?” Keith asked.
“Come on, guys, who doesn't play rugby?”
Charlie, Jonesy, David, Keith and John raised their hands, blushing. Bonzo looked surprised, but a grin quickly grew on his face.
“Okay, let me teach you.”
He took the ball and told them to stand in line before him. He showed them how to hold the ball, how to throw it, and explained them some crucial rules of the game.
“Don't forget, guys, you don't throw the ball forward, you do it backward!”
“What happens if you throw it forward?” David said, frowning.
“It's a foul.”
Seeing that they didn't remember everything, Bonzo turned his back to them, and threw the ball to Jonesy, who clumsily caught it. Therefore, his bandmate taught the group how to get ready to catch the ball in every situation. He made them throw the ball at him, congratulating them happily when they did well.
After they trained a bit, laughing and tripping everywhere on the old wooden floor, Bonzo gathered them and spoke.
“Alright, how about we play a match?”
“But Bonzo, you said that rugby can only be played with seven, thirteen or fifteen players!”
“Yeah, but the other players aren't there, so... We'll manage to play. We're six, so it will be easy to build two teams.”
Bonzo frowned and slightly closed his eyes, rubbing his moustache with a finger, pondering about who the teams would be made of. He smiled and pointed at his fellow musicians.
“Alright. Jonesy, David and Keith, you're the first team. Pick a name.”
“Uuh... A team name?”
“Yeah!”
Jonesy pouted, and so did the two others.
“We don't know what to choose.”
“Then, you'll be called the Buttholes.”
“WHAT?!”
“Okay, Charlie and John, you're with me.”
“BUT WE DON'T WANT TO BE CALLED THE BUTTHOLES!”
Bonzo spun round to look at Keith, David and Jonesy. His lips stretched into a cunning smirk, and his eyes were shining a bit.
“If you couldn't come up with a name for your team, I came up with one for you!”
“I'll take a revenge, Bonzo” Jonesy grumbled.
“I'm waiting for you, darling!”
“Alright, what's your team name, then?”
“Mmh... Any ideas, fellas?”
“I don't have any” Charlie shrugged.
“I don't either, I let you choose.”
“We'll be the Motorbikes.”
John and Charlie grinned. Bonzo showed everybody where to stand, holding the ball and looking at the three others who faced him. He spun round to look at Charlie and John.
“Boys, step back, otherwise we'll have a problem if we want to throw the ball.”
They nodded and stepped back; John, who was at the edge, stepped back a bit more, so Charlie could throw him the ball if he needed to.
“Alright. Three... Two... One... Go!”
Bonzo touched the ball with his foot and immediately left his spot, running forward. Keith, who was right before him, quickly got him and wrapped his short arms around the other drummer's waist. Bonzo spun round and nodded at Charlie, who got ready to welcome the ball. He caught it and ran forward, skillfully avoiding Jonesy running after him. Charlie managed to go to the other side of the attic, and made the ball touch the floor.
“Well played, Charles!” Bonzo congratulated him. “John, come where Charlie stood before, I don't want you to be put aside.”
“Alright.”
John smiled and high-fived Charlie, before standing where the drummer did before. Bonzo stood behind John, and Charlie replaced him.
“You can change your spots too, if you want, Buttholes.”
David raised his middle finger to Bonzo, who burst out laughing. They quickly changed their spots and faced the Motorbikes. Charlie gave a light kick in the ball, before jumping forward. As David was about to catch him, he turned his head.
“JOHN!”
John got ready to catch the ball and Charlie threw it to him. John caught it well and ran forward, before finding himself pinned to the floor by Jonesy. He remembered what Bonzo taught him about when a player is pinned to the ground, and gave him the ball. Bonzo headed for the other edge of the room, but Keith stole the ball and ran across the pitch. John wrapped his arms around Keith's waist but failed to pin him down. Keith threw the ball to Jonesy, who reached the edge of the attic. He made the ball touch the floor and smiled.
“We're going to beat you, Motorbikes!”
“I wouldn't be too sure about that” Charlie grinned, “we have Bonzo.”
Jonesy laughed and kept the ball, joining his team and changing spots. The Motorbikes took place and stared at the Buttholes a bit hungrily, as if they were about to eat them. Jonesy started the game and ran forward. Seeing Bonzo rushing toward him, he clusmily spun round and tried to throw the ball at David. Unfortunately, his hands slipped as he tripped over something, and the ball flew right to the small window of the attic. It knocked on the glass and broke it, disappearing on the roof.
Everybody stopped moving, and Jonesy was staring at what he had done. John cringed and gulped.
“Who said he didn't want broken windows to escape?”
The others turned to Jonesy, who was shivering, hating himself for what happened. They started to laugh, and Keith led them out of the attic. Bonzo patted Jonesy's shoulder, laughing loudly.
“Too bad you'll have to pay, now!”
Author's note:
Rest in Peace John Bonham (31.5.1948 ~ 25.9.1980) ♥