Heavy bass lines in 100 words

A slightly incompetent jazz band, a cell phone with a dead battery and a pair of dice. That's all I've got ('cepting Esmerelda) to keep me entertained. Locked away for days now. It's not so bad, in this Beirut dive bar. It's a bar after all. We are underground. It's safe. There's beer. All the other customers left, days ago, but we all had no where else to go. The streets are not safe and frankly I'm a pussy when it comes to guns and war and violence of any kind. I said this to Esmerelda, "I'm a lover, not a fighter". She rolled her eyes and said something that sounded dismissive. She's too voluptuous anyway, not my type. All I've really got is this slightly incompetent jazz band. They aren't good. They don't really understand bebop. They are all squeaky and squawky. They play like they've individually read different books on jazz and grasp the concept, just barely. Kind of like me and sex. Kind of like most people and painting. They think they are pretty good at it, but really they make a lot of mistakes. All I've really got is these dice, and they are the reason I'm here.