There is a long hallway and the band is playing to a packed house. My apartment is very cheap because it's situated in the back of a giant concert hall. I keep trying to use the bathroom in peace, but am interrupted by drunk fans needing to pee. My bathroom is huge, and one end is a more private tub and shower for just these occasions. The problem being its cleanliness: covered in mold, mildew and crawling bugs.

As I'm getting ready to shower, a man knocks on the bathroom door. 'Hey buddy, it's the singer. Can I please come in?' I mumble an affirmative and in walks Kurt Cobain wearing only boxers, covered in a light blue silk robe. He hurriedly runs to a urinal and I hear him begin to pee.

'Careful out there, man,' I say. 'There's a lot of pitfalls.' He disappears and two fat and sweaty women barge into the bathroom wearing magenta tubetops which barely keep their heaving teets covered. 'Oh my god, where is he?' one exclaims. I get very angry and try to start the shower but no water comes out.