"Is Herr Lindemann present?"
"He’ll be along shortly," Richard said. "he’s a baritone."
"I suspect that that’s not exactly the case,” the organizer of the show remarked dryly, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I’ve been told that a couple of worrying things happened at the show - namely, Herr Lindemann, in an attempt to pay homage to Herr Lorenz’s recent marriage, recalled an ancient custom and threw an entire wedding cake at him for ‘reasons of fertility’. What’s more, I’ve also been made aware of the fact that he then proceeded to set him on fire; iif I recall correctly, there was no clause involving burning your bandmates to death in our agreement. Could you care to explain?”
Paul snorted. “Quatsch! I don’t believe a single word of it. It’s not in Till’s character to throw wedding cakes. He’s a baritone.”
"It’s not about what you believe, you were there, surely the fire-“
"Ah yes, the fire,” Olli exclaimed, sounding aggrieved. “yes, that. That was a thing that happened. What a shame, Till went entirely too overboard. Imagine all of that cake. Pounds upon pound of cream and strawberries and sweet sweet calories. Wasted. I tell you, I think we’re taking the decadent rock star stereotype a bit too far.”
"But that’s not the point, your keyboardist-“
"Present," Flake said, emerging quite unscathed and deadpan (with Till in tow) from the doorway behind them. "shame about the actual cake, I do agree, there aren’t any slices with cherries on left anymore - sorry, Risch - but there’s a smaller one catered especially for us that I ordered. Take a look."
Schneider’s eyes had already gained an unholy gleam to them. “Holy mother of God is that a fantastic cake. Would you like a slice, Herr?”
The man simply took his glasses off and buried his head in his hands. This was going to be an awfully long night.
Our cover girl. ;)