I am Lou, and here is my story:

It was the seventh day of the eighth month of the ninth year of the second millennium, only fifteen thousand, thirty-two years and three hundred thirty-eight days since the fall of the Roman Empire.  It was a fine August evening in Los Angeles, California.  The blood orange sun was setting, the palm trees were snoozing in the breeze, and the sweet sound of sirens could faintly be heard screaming in the distance…but I was dead inside.  The meeting with Shaimus left a bad taste in my mouth, nay; it shattered my every perception of the world around me.  I still had not been officially accepted into the band.  What more could I do?  How long could I wait?  Was it all worth it?

It was now the eighth day of the eighth month of the ninth year of the second millennium, on the one hundred and forty-sixth anniversary of the resignation of Robert E. Lee from the Confederate cause shortly after the Battle of Gettysburg.  It was a fine August morning in Los Angeles, California.  The smog was cleared, the squirrels were reading on the sidewalk, and the cockroaches were out and about in the kitchen as if to greet everyone with a smile and a stink.  I was still dead inside, but rehearsal with Shaimus was scheduled at noon.  A little music always does the trick.

Johannes and Evan left for rehearsal early, both stuttering and talking a mile a minute as they did so.  I thought nothing of it at the time, only that they must have really tied one on the previous night.  My brother, Phil, and I start going to the rehearsal space, when he exclaims in horror that he forgot to pick up his microphones from a friend.  After fifteen minutes of anxiety, profanity, and tears, I told my big brother that it wasn’t his fault…that sometimes these things just happen.  Little did I know it was a brilliant Hollywood performance.

We soon arrived to a quaint little pub in El Segundo at around 12:30 in the afternoon.  Apparently, my brother’s seemingly alcoholic friend was meeting another friend for drinks and happened to bring the microphones with him.  I don’t know how I didn’t see any holes in this story. We then walked in the pub and I saw Shaimus sitting at a table.  ‘Why weren’t they at rehearsal?’ I wondered.  What a bunch of slackers.  It was at that moment, when every shard of my shattered world awakened and reformed before my eyes.  That was the biggest ‘oh’ moment of my life.

So now, I am a brother Shaimus.  That is my story.  Thank you guys, I love you all.  Shaimus is new and revamped.  This world survived the fall of Rome.  This world survived the American Civil War.  But live in fear, my friends, because this world may not survive The Return Of Shaimus!