Rockin’ Boulders

By Sebastian Velasco Diaz

I don’t need a shirt, girl, no, don’t need a shirt. I don’t need a shirt, girl, ‘cause I got you. Don’t need no shirt, girl, ‘cause I’ve got your love.

The crowd went berserk as four men on barbershop uniforms finished their a-cappella playing. It was the 20th annual music festival at New York City, and everyone was psyched out to either participate or attend the event. A guy with a microphone came into the stage, “The Barbershop Berbelles, everyone. A big hand for them!”

The four men were met with cheers and whistles as they exited the stage.

“Now, hold on tight, people, because we are about to turn up the volume to 11! Our next musical guests will blow you away with their energy and their passion! Please give it up for Rocky and the Rockin’ Boulders!”

The crowd began to cheer loudly as fog surrounded the stage. From the fog emerged a familiar face, Rocky, wearing a green shirt, jeans, and carrying a 1965 Fender Jaguar. Along with him, were his bandmates: a boy about his size with orange hair and blue shades on bass, a girl with emo-like purple hair and earrings on keyboard, and a boy with a sleeveless shirt, shaggy wavelength blonde hair, and sunglasses on the drums.

“Good evening, New York City! We’re the Rockin’ Boulders, and we’re about to turn the volume to 11!” As Rocky spoke these words, he began strumming down his guitar wildly, and the rest of the instruments joined later.

My heart is black, and my lips are cold. Cities on flames with rock n’ roll! Three thousand guitars they seem to cry. My ears will melt, and then my eyes!

Oh, let the girl, let that girl rock n’ roll! Cities on flames now, with rock n’ roll!

Rocky didn’t stop jumping around the stage while the people cheered on.

Gardens of nocturne, forbidden delights. Reins of steel, and it’s alright. Cities on flames, with rock n’ roll! Marshal will buoy, but Fender control.

So, let the girl, let that girl rock n’ roll! Cities on flames now, with rock n’ roll!

Rocky couldn’t stop smiling. What a way to let his energy out and to present his talent to the world. His fellas stopped playing so that he could do a wild guitar solo.

My heart is black, and my lips are cold. Cities on flames with rock n’ roll! Three thousand guitars they seem to cry. My ears will melt, and then my eyes!

So, let the girl, let that girl rock n’ roll! Cities on flames now, with rock n’ roll!

The song ended as the crowd went wild. Rocky smiled as he panted and wiped the sweat from his forehead and then smashed his guitar.

Suddenly, a creak was heard. The door opened as Jonah entered the room.

“Rocky?!” he shouted. Rocky turned away. He still held the guitar in his hands. On the TV screen, the words “LEVEL COMPLETE” appeared in big bold white letters. Rocky was in front of the Xbox 360 holding the guitar in one hand and the microphone in the other, and he had been jumping around the room wildly. Jonah looked around. It was almost as if a whirlwind entered Rocky’s room: It was a mess! Magazines scattered across the floor, chairs knocked over, and messed pillows and sheets. Jonah then looked and the TV screen, which now displayed the words “MAXIMUM SCORE”, against the backdrop of a cheering crowd.

A little ashamed, Jonah turned off the TV, grabbed one of the magazines, and started reading as if nothing had happened. Jonah just laughed and closed the door. Rocky inspected to make sure he was no longer been watched, grabbed the guitar once more, and turned the TV on again!

“RESUME?” big bold letters said. Rocky pressed “OK” and continued rocking.