Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2000 12:53:00 -0400 (EDT) From: Christ Sol <webtrash@unpunk.com> Subject: Trapped part 5 Disclaimer: This story contains drug culture, male/male and female/female sexual references. Don't like it, look at something else. Or play some tennis. Buy a goldfish. Indulge in some heavy alcoholic drinking. The world is your oyster. I in no way infer the sexuality of the members of the band Jebediah. They do a pretty good job of it themselves. Fan mail to webtrash@unpunk.com -5- Ryan regarded Snowy and I on the couch, my hand so far down his pants it looked like I was prospecting for gold, for the longest ten seconds I have ever experienced. His face was swamped with confusion. I slipped my hand out of Martin's shorts, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. Eventually, my nerves began to crack. "Say something, Ryan." "Something." my best friend mumbled, hands in pockets. I laughed nervously, then glanced from Snowy, back to Ryan. "You know Snowy." "G'day." "G'day." I slipped off the bed and grabbed Ryan's shoulder. "Ry, man - you ok?" Ryan looked at me, bewildered, then his eyes slowly moved back to Martin, still sitting on the couch. He chuckled. "Poofters. You're all around us." My face broke into a grin and I laughed heartily, followed soon by Ryan and Martin. Ry sure knew how to break the ice. The moment defused, I gave my mate a playful shove and we all wandered down the hall to my room. I shuffled the cards around in my hand a little more. "Two fives, three fours. You?" "Aw shit, I only got a pair of queens." Ryan replied, shooting Martin and I a dirty look. "Behave." I growled, throwing a butter-soaked piece of popcorn at his head. I was bored. Poker wasn't my strong point, and mum was going to be home soon. Turning the situation over in my head, I realised things weren't going quite as bad as I had imagined. Ry wasn't freaking out, Snowy had kept his hands off me since his inpromptu appearance and I - well, maybe things weren't all peaches and cream. Cold sweat was still pouring down my forehead, over my brow, and I felt a burning tingle down my spine. I hadn't had a fix in nearly two days now, and I knew from experience it would only get worse before it got better. I needed to get out, to do something, anything to get me away from the memories of last night. "You guys wanna go into town and grab some food?" Snowy looked over at Ryan, who shrugged, and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through the ample notes. Having a father as a lawyer apparently paid off in more ways than one. "My multirider's run out. Don't wanna get busted by the train cops again." "What you talking 'bout, fool? Snowy's got a car, man." "Ah right. Well you wanna go then?" I nodded. "Lemme change." I stood up and turned away from them, flipping thru the shirts on my desk. Something shiny rattled out of the pocket of one and landed on the floor. Bending over to pick it up, I nearly had it when Snowy leaned forward and snatched it. He squinted to read the back of the capsules, before tossing it back to me. "Morphine? What's that for?" "Nightmare insurance." I brushed off his question and pulled a Dead Kennedy's shirt over my frail, sickly body, before giving my cartlidge ring a perfunctory twist and turning the radio off. This was a secret signal between Ryan and I. I normally never turned my stereo off during the day, and when I did, he knew I was in pain, and to take care of me. He nodded ever so slightly and ambled out the door. Pulling my other Blundy onto my foot, I was following Ryan out when a meaty, tanned arm grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into a warm grasp. I looked deep into Snowy's piercing eyes, expecting a kiss or something profound to escape his lips. All he said was "Sorry." I managed to keep myself cheery enough as we roared down the Canning Highway, singing along to a punk CD of Martin's. Occasionally, he would go silent and serious, a dark cloud seeming to pass over his face and through his mind. But then he would just sort of shrug and grin again, hooting when one of his favourite songs came on. As we pulled into Victoria Park, Ryan said "Hey let's get Maccas", and the Falcon swung into the Heart of the Park shopping centre carpark to tune of Love Camp 7: "He's a weird motherfucker and he's not much fun to talk to, He has the strangest introduction lines, Wouldn't be suprised if he used them to pick up children, And show them which appendage really shines..." Snowy turned down "I'd like to see him go 20 rounds with Satan in a Fistfight" as we pulled up to the drive thru. "Welcome to McDonalds Victoria Park, can I take your order please?", the tired, disembodied voice crackled at us from the intercom. "Yeah, if you give it back!" "What do you want, sir?" Ryan crawled up to the front seat, and assumed his best Beavis voice. "Uh, heh heh, we want, hehe we want chicks, yeh, hehe, hehehe, hehe!" Grinning manically, I joined in. "Shut up Beavith. Urrh, can you like, put the microphone on your butt?" "Heheheh, yeh, I wanna hear your butt! hehe, heheh hehe!" Disembodied Voice Girl grew more agitated. "I'm going to have to get the manager if you don't place your order." The three of us "oooooohed." "In that case, we'll have two big macs, two quarter pounders, three large fries, two cokes and a chocolate thickshake." "I have your order as two quarter pounders, two big macs, two cokes, a chocolate shake and three large fries." "No, we said two big macs." "Yes, that's what I have here." "You said three." "I did not say - two big macs. That comes to $15.65. Drive forward when ready please." We cruised forward, laughing and joking. The delay in getting our meal out was phenomenal, so we waited into the bay for our food to be brought out. Eventually, a tubby girl stormed out with two bags and a tray of drinks. I regarded her for a moment, before saying "She looks like she eats children!" In fake horror, Snowy looked at me, and Ryan cracked up. "Give me my baby back baby back baby back ribs!" he crooned, imitating Fat Bastard from Austin Powers. The mood had definitely lifted even more by the time "Arlene" made it to our car. "Here's your order. Sorry about the wait." The voice was definitely familiar, and it took us a while to realise it was the same girl with the disembodied voice. "It's OK, you'll lose it." Snowy replied, gunning the engine and screeching out of the carpark at top speed. We cruised down towards Perth City, eating our lunch and flipping off pedestrians. By and by, Snowy's hand rested on my leg, and my hand rested on his, squeezing it gently now and then. I looked up at his chiseled face, but his Raybans hid his eyes and expression so completely I nearly snatched them off in frustration. We decided to check out 78 Records first, and pulled into the alley on 573 Hay, turning over Martin's forged CITY PARKING PERMIT. I loved 78 Records. It had the greatest atmosphere. The retro clothing store upstairs, the local bands playing constantly on the stage, the magazines, couched. The whole place rocked. It was the only place to go on a Saturday afternoon. As we entered, I idly checked out who was there. Stefan, Andreas and Katherine were working today, and a couple of baby goths were ogling the new Placedo albums, no doubt trying to work out how to get the security packaging off. I saw Ian from Anodyne 500 and waved, but he was too cool to notice me today. "Oh, shit!" I turned around to see what Ryan had seen. He was looking at an poster-sized photocopied letter from Naked Ape Management. I sucked in my breath. Jebediah's manager, Stan Constantine. NAKED APE MANAGEMENT - PRESS RELEASE ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- We regret to inform the fans of JEBEDIAH that due to illness (Brett Mitchell), JEBEDIAH have cancelled their 25TH MARCH appearance at BURSWOOD SUPER- DROME. Kevin, Chris, Brett and Vanessa wish to apologise for any disappointment this may have caused, and will reschedule the appearance as soon as possible. The tickets are also refundable from the usual outlets. Thanking you for your understanding, EMMA LEFROY for STANLEY CONSTANTINE. I hung my head in dejection. I felt like crying. My hands balled into fists and my eyes grew misty. I was angry and sad and frustrated and disappointed, and so many other emotions. Ryan put his arm around me. "S'ok man. I know it sucks, but they'll play soon. Come on, cheer up." "Cheer up? CHEER UP?" I cried, backing away from Ryan. Martin stood close by, unsure of what to do or say. I noticed the attention I was drawing to myself, and hissed under my breath. "I have been waiting for two years of my life for this day, and they fucking cancelled. They cancelled. How could they. How could Kevin---" I sank to the floor slowly. Time seemed to slow down and stop. I shivered, hugged myself, and then a wave of blackness washed over me. ...to be continued...