Browsing Poison Fiction

“I’m stuck in Newark, Bret!” I squawk through my phone speaker after finally getting some kind of reception, “Of all places, it had to be here!”

~~~

CC's plans of spending a day off from touring to visit a friend are dumped down the drain after he's thrown off the train early for being too loud.  Left stranded right in the middle of one of the worst cities in New Jersey, he has no choice but to struggle through navigating the misfortune.

Follow this elaborate account as he dramatically attempts to find his way out of the "hood" and back to the rest of his band.

He’s up there, selling himself to every single person at this goddamn joint, strutting around, swaying his hips, and kicking his muscular thighs in the air like some fuckin’ go-go dancer.  All the while, he’s surrounded by a herd of horny groupies with their hands all over the fucker, rubbing him and grinding against him…as he performs the most outrageous rendition of the dance that Madonna made famous.  With the stage fans blasting on him, he looks like he’s tryin’ to be a top tier runway model…and he probably thinks he is, too.

“Nothing happened,” I grit my teeth and hiss in an uncharacteristic low tone, cutting off any possibility of the others saying another word, “Nothing bad happened so leave it alone!”

“Imagine all of our hard work gettin’ here and makin’ it big just to die here,” Rikki jokes awkwardly while shifting his feet from side to side with an uneasy laugh, “Heh, wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

I can’t help but ruffle my platinum rat’s nest with amusement at the statement as I let out a bombastic cackle, even though the truth is that I’m really just as freaked as he is about the fiasco we’re all in right now.

“Oh, it’d be something alright,” Bobby mutters under his breath, “It’d really be—“

“Dyin’ from the wind?!  C’mon now!”  I shake my head and shrug off the fear with an animated wave of my arm before planting both hands on my hips.  “We didn’t come all the way ova’ here to die from somethin’ dumb!  At least let it be extravagant—“

“CC, what in the world are you wearing?!”

The strong exasperation seeping off of Bret’s tongue induces a wide smirk to spread along my lips as I take in his flabbergasted expression, and it’s right now that I can’t help but think to myself how ridiculous I’m being…

‘Cause honest to god, who would have thought I’d be knockin’ on this dude’s door so early in the morning dressed in what most guys would consider unconventional clothing?!

“Playing the wrong damn song?!?  Twice?!?   And unplugging your goddamn guitar?!  On live fucking TV?!?!  The drugs are frying the only brain cells you hav—“

“You said Talk Dirty To Me!” I scream through the throbbing in my body, bringing enraged tears of disorienting confusion to my eyes, “You told the crowd—“

~*~

*AKA: CC's perspective of the 1991 MTV Video Music Awards disaster and the events leading up to the infamous meltdown*

And so I drink more, to wash the feelings away, and I snort more lines to bring me to the partying escape land.  And I spend my nights at the club, or at the bar, or hidden in some desolate abandoned drug den in the middle of nowhere, drowning myself in toxins that serve as my protection and dreamland; where none of this terrible reality exists.  It tricks me into believing that I’m okay and capable of going through life this way.

As long as I don’t feel, I can survive.

That friggin’ jackass is staring at me with these hungry fuckin’ eyes and if I thought Gerard was on the prowl for Frank then I don’t even know what Bret’s attitude towards me is right now. I just know that to him, what I’m about to do is gonna feel like a goddamn prize. And he’s about to get off on me being a piece of meat for the entire crowd while I’m gonna wanna do nothing but shrivel up into nothingness and die.

But there’s also a very strong part of me that wants to know what attention this will reward me with, and I sure as hell know Bret’s gonna be draggin’ me off this fuckin’ stage the very second this goddamn show is over.

Punishment.

That’s the only word that swims through Bret’s mind as he drags a drunken CC down the hallway of a grungy run-down decrepit warehouse that someone decided to call a hotel with Gerard doing the same to Frank not far behind.  

Bret can’t say this was all his idea, though.  In fact, Gerard was the one who chose this place.  The immediate idea of punishment, however, was all Bret’s doing, and he knows he has a damn good reason for it.

With my leg shaking underneath the table and my heart pulsating out of my chest, I dart my head over to Rikki, who looks invested in the elaborate opinion he thinks I’m about to share.

“I mean, I think it showed the good and bad parts,” I force a casual tone with a crooked smile even though I feel the opposite of nonchalant right now.  “Ya know, it had all the drama and juicy stuff—“

“Juicy my ass, CC!” Bret screeches from the far back of the bus as his pacing quickens, “You’re callin’ a load of bullshit—“

Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be here, ready to surrender to the only thing I thought I couldn’t live without, and I’m not gonna lie…I’m scared as shit right now but this is what I gotta do to get better. I don’t have any other choice now. If I don’t take the leap now, then who knows if it’ll ever happen, and if it doesn’t happen then what will?

I’ll be gone.

“CC,” Bret sighs and clasps his hands together, as slight impatience seeps out of his body. “We didn’t come here to fight—“

“Oh, you didn't?” I feign surprise with sarcasm-tinted words. “Well that’s a first for you isn’t it? Congrat-a-fuckin-lations!”