Pigeon Core

You are teenage pigeons.

You have a punk band. Or emo. Something like that.

In one hour, you’re playing your first gig ever—your chance to prove to all those conformist sparrows, stuck-up crows, and fucking seagulls that PUNK IS NOT DEAD.

There’s just one problem.

You don’t have a single song.

So you write one.

And then things get weird.