Gordon Korman Bugs Potter 01 Who Is Bugs Potter

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seeing them that night. Is Iced Tea in town?"
"Wishful thinking," replied Bugs. "But there's a group just as good at this
club called The Hideout. Guess who?"
Adam closed his eyes. "I can't imagine."
"Dorchester Melon!" exclaimed Bugs. "They're a British group, you know, and
their last album was on the charts for twenty-three weeks. It was one of the
best album covers I've ever seen. It had the group walking down the street
carrying umbrellas, and it was raining melons. You could see this big
watermelon splattering right at the lead singer's feet. They're my favourite
group!"
Adam checked his watch. He was long past the stage of arguing with Bugs over
these nightly excursions. "Well." he said, "we've got some time yet. I'm going
to read a little."
"Right. And I'll put on some music." Bugs popped another tape into the deck
and switched the music on. It was a loud, heavy-metal rock song with electric
guitars and blaring vocal.
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Adam looked up suddenly from his book. "Endomorph, right?"
"You bet," replied Bugs. "They're my favourite group!"
Adam laughed until the tears were falling onto the pages of his book.
* * *
"We should have come earlier," Bugs lamented from the sixth row table where
he and Adam had finally managed to find seats. The Hideout was teeming with
humanity. "I should have known. Dorchester Melon is so great that everybody in
Toronto is here tonight."
Adam Webb looked around. The nightclub was indeed jammed beyond capacity, and
almost every single soul in the place was wearing aBUGS T-shirt. What could it
mean? Whatcould it mean?
"Look," he said to Bugs, who was wearing his own new shirt. "Look at all the
shirts. I don't understand it."
Bugs shrugged. "What's to understand?I bought one, didn't I? It's a great
shirt. Boy, Dorchester Melon! I can't believe I'm actually here."
"Neither can I," said Adam, unable to take his eyes from the sea of coloured
T-shirts.
The lights went out, and illuminated by a spotlight, a giant marrow squash
rolled across the stage. A tremendous blast erupted from the speakers and
Dorchester Melon burst onto the stage in a foggy pink mist.
"Class," shouted Bugs. "You can see they've got class!"
Adam coughed and kept coughing until the pink mist dissipated.
On stage the four members of Dorchester Melon were busy pounding out the hard
rock rhythms that Bugs loved so well. The first half of the show was
unexpectedly short only about half an hour, Adam guessed. Maybe it was going
to be a short performance. He hoped so. It wouldn't do to fall asleep at band
practice again tomorrow.
Bugs scooted backstage where Dorchester Melon were relaxing.
"Hi," he said with a big friendly grin. "My name is Bugs Potter, and I play
the "
"Have a seat!"
Immediately all four musicians were on their feet escorting Bugs to a
comfortably padded chair.
"Gee, you guys sure are friendly," said Bugs.
"Now," said the Dorchester Melon drummer, "they have a spare set of drums
just waiting for you. But if you want, you can use mine and I'll use the
spare."
Bugs was overwhelmed. "You mean you'll let me use your set? With the famous
watermelon painted on the bass?"
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"Anything for you, Bugs," promised the lead singer. "I say, do you know any
of our songs, or do you wing it?"
"Do I know any of your songs?" repeated Bugs. "I know all of them. I think
yourSpitting Out the Seeds album is the best thing ever recorded."
"Okay," said the lead guitarist, all business. "Roger, you go out there and
introduce Bugs. Bugs, you open with a long drum roll while we wheel on the
spare drum set. Then we'll break into 'Crazy Cantaloupes.'" He looked at Bugs.
"Is that okay with you?"
"Sure. Hey, it's your show. You call the shots."
"Will you listen to that," said the lead guitarist in awe. "The bigger they
are, the nicer they are."
On stage, the lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated Roger, the lead
singer. "We had a chap drop in backstage "he began.
The crowd exploded. Roger's voice could scarcely be heard, but the
introduction was not necessary. Everybody knew.
Bugs broke into his drum roll, bouncing up and down with the effort of his
drumming, beating out tommygun rhythms that drove the crowd into hysteria. At
one point, when he improvised a dialogue with the regular drummer, the crowd
started banging on the tables. So he dialogued with them too.
"Man," called the regular drummer, "you sure do know how to rile up a crowd."
"Thanks," yelled Bugs. "Let's give them some bass."
The show went on from song to song without any spoken introductions, because
the general uproar never diminished. Suddenly Adam realized that Bugs had
tossed his drumsticks into the crowd. The show was over. Like a bullet, he
shot out of his chair and up onto the stage, grabbing his roommate and heading
for the nearest exit. Again, he was just seconds ahead of the surging crowd.
He flung open the door and stared aghast. The doorway was completely blocked
from the outside with unruly fans. Frantically Adam shoved the door shut and
hauled Bugs away from the exit, back onto the stage. The mob rushed forward.
The two boys darted across the stage, vaulted to the top of an enormous [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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