James Hetfield flashed a craggy smile at Lars. "Pay me twelve hundred bucks! You landed on Marvin Gardens and I have a hotel."
"Lars, you shouldn't have bought all those worthless railroads - now you're short on cash," tisked Kirk Hammet, looking scarecrow thin and with hollow eyes.
Robert Trujillo lit up a Padron Maduro 1964-edition cigar as he organized his play money into tidy piles. Lars wined, "Why do you have to light up that stinky thing?"
"It's my only giddy pleasure on the road," said Robert as he savored a deep, smooth draw.
Kirk rolled his eyes and said, "Well, it's not the only proclivity that annoys us."
"Really? How else do I bug you?"
"You're eating habits are disgusting!" said Kirk. "Yesterday, you were hawking greasy shish-kabobs on the tour bus and today you were munching salmon tartare cornets at breakfast."
"Yeah, Robert - when you auditioned, you were really cool, but as soon as we got on the road, you adopted a comical air of smugness," said James.
Lars jumped on the bandwagon. "Plus, you've become an eyesore - you've packed on some extra pounds and I have to look at your sweaty bubble butt every damned night on stage. The truth is... we've been talking and we've decided to fire you from the band."
Robert began sobbing uncontrollably. "Please, no! I love this band - joining Metallica has been the piece de resistance of my career. You pay me oodles of money to do what I love, we travel the world, and sell millions of records." Robert's complexion turned seasick green. He buried his face into his hands. The band sat in silence around the Monopoly board. Suddenly, James, Kirk, and Lars burst out laughing. Robert looked up - his face stained with crocodile tears. "You bastards!" he yelled as he chased after his band mates who were running away in hysterics.
*****
Color words: craggy, tisked, scarecrow thin with hollow eyes, giddy pleasures, proclivities, hocking shish-kabobs, salmon tartare cornets, adopted a comical air of smugness, eyesore, piece de resistance, oodles, seasick green
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