“So what’s the name of this band?” Jeanette asked.

“The Bad Electronic Twilight Cowboys,” Leif replied.

“Okay, what is is about bands these days?” Jeanette said, waving her arms. “Is it asking too much for a normal name, or does every single one have to be spat out of a Weird Word Generator? It’s like freakin’ Mad Libs, only they get taken seriously.”

“No,” said Leif, “the Mad Libs are playing in the second set.”

“What genre do the Bad Electronic Twilight Cowboys play?”

“Punk/ska/rock fusion.”

“That’s another thing!” Jeanette cried. “Why does every freakin’ band have to be its own genre? Why can’t we just call them punk? Or ska? Or rock? And why fusion–is that some sort of magic word that makes genres that have nothing to do with each other get along? What are the Mad Libs, a hair metal/chamber music fusion? Or maybe country/Andean panpipes/Tibetian yak horn fusion?”

Leif calmly took a sip from his energy drink. “I’m sensing a little hostility here. We still going?”

Jeanette sighed and gave her head a shake. “…it’s just the coffee talking. Let’s go.”