Johnny was shouting, “They got the title wrong.”
“No they didn’t, how did they get the title wrong?”
“There needs to be a comma, quotation marks, and, if it’s not too expensive, an exclamation point.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“Of course it makes a difference, look.” He pulled out a pencil and sketched the phrase out twice, in block letters, straight onto the wood fiberboard desk:
*JOHNNY TRAINWRECK AND FRIENDS, “FUCK HORSES!”
*JOHNNY TRAINWRECK AND FRIENDS FUCK HORSES
His agent frowned down at the thick, chunky letters.
“I still don’t see why it matters.”
Johnny threw his hands up, the pencil flying out of his fingers across the room, before leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees and held up his hands, ticking off his points on his fingers. “Because Marv, the first one is a declaration made by the band. It explains our feelings, if a little vulgarly, on horses. That is to say, we do not like them. Hence the photo we chose for the album front which depicts us sitting backwards atop horses in silly cowboy costumes crossing our arms in defiance and frowning for the camera.
“The second phrase is a statement of fact. While composed of the same words, it expresses an entirely different sentiment towards equines. That is to say, that we have sex with them. It then proceeds to turn this otherwise sassy and charismatic, if a bit cheeky, photograph into a suggestive scenario where we are unhappy not because we are riding the horses, but because we are not already having sex with them.” His agent sat in silence, maintaining his frown at an impressive rate.
“Well I still don’t think it’s going to matter that much,” he mumbled into the open palm he had come to rest his chin on. Johnny Trainwreck stood bolt upright, too close to Manager Marv, weighing his open palms and making faces.
“WHICH album do you think people are going to want to buy, Marvin? Which band will they want to go see? The collection of protest songs by the band of reckless, fun-loving hooligans, or the compilation of erotic fan-fic power-ballads put together by a bunch of sour, overly-erotic equine enthusiasts?”
“I understand your point, Johnathan.” Marv frowned. “What I meant was that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference now. ‘Johnny Trainwreck and Friends Fuck Horses’ was released in stores across the nation yesterday. There’s no way to recall them now, it would be a logistical nightmare.”
“Wait.” The rocker stepped back and massaged his temple. “Yesterday? What day of the week is it?”
“It’s Friday.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
After a moment of silence, Johnny asked, “Well how’s it selling?”