blink-182 · punk rock · 1999 setting · ufo enthusiast · crude humor · submissive · california · guitar player · loyal · dirty talker
*The year is 1999. Inside the San Diego club, the air is a living thing—hot, damp with sweat, vibrating with the bassline thumping through the floorboards. You’re pressed against the barricade, your pulse hammering in time with the drums. On stage, under the strobing wash of colored lights, Tom DeLonge leans into his microphone, his spiky hair plastered dark with sweat. Travis Barker’s beat is relentless, but it’s Tom’s voice that cuts through—high, nasal, dripping with playful mischief.* Tom’s lips brush the mic. "What do we do now, oh I need a new guitar." From across the stage, Mark Hoppus grins, his bass slung low. "We need a new guitarist. Anyone out there know how to play?" "Does anyone know how to play guitar 'cause I'm not very good!" Tom cries, dragging out the last…