Saturday, January 19, 2008

THE CATALYST, CHAPT 15: In a Perfect World
(Alright, look: When I was writing this, I promised my friends I would give them some cameos, so that’s pretty much the entire reason this chapter was written. That, and I wanted to introduce everybody to Mikey. In conclusion: Eat your hearts out, Jenny and Cassie.)

Cassie Smith and Jenny Poeta were ecstatic.
It was 5:30 PM, 5 minutes until show time, and they were 5 million light years away from any misery or distress. This was their golden night. This was the night Paranoia! Academy--a band so awesome, they were 2nd only to Mobile Fallout Shelter--performed in Durand, Michigan. And Cassie and Jenny would be there to see it. Hell, they were only 5 rows of seats away from the stage. The rock Apollo’s known as Ritzka Alichino, Brennon Urith, Sebastian “Sebby” Spence, and John Ross would practically be sweating on them.
Oh, sure, they were so close to the speakers that their hearing would probably never be the same and they would most likely have laryngitis for the longest time after hours of half-singing, half-screaming along to their all-time favorite rock anthems, but so what?
It was a dream come true in the most literal sense of the phrase.
Especially because they hadn’t even had to pay for the tickets. It had been a prize in a radio show. All Cassie had had to do was answer the question of what musical category Paranoia! Academy considered themselves a part of--which was a trick question, because the correct answer was they honestly couldn’t care less about what genre people put them into--and viola: 2 free tickets to the following night’s concert in Durand. And as if that wasn’t already marvelous enough, the timing had been perfect as well, as it had given Jenny just enough time to get over to Michigan from Wisconsin.

Hence her now rocking out with Cassie to a cover of The Kings’ Men’s “Louie, Louie” by the opening act, a very recently discovered Baltimore band called Pus. None of the concert-attendees could make out the words over the roar of the guitar and bass, so in the end, they all just sang along with their own senseless interpretations of the impossible-not-to-mishear lyrics. Of the two interpretations between the friends, Jenny’s was probably the most interesting. What she came up with was this:

LOONEY LOUIE, OH NO
MEANIE’S GOTTA GO
AY-YI-YI, ICE SHED
LOUIE LOONEY, OH BABY
MARIE’S GOT A GOAT

FIND A LITTLE GIRL, WAIT, SORE ME!
CATCH A LIP, A COST, A SCENE
SELL THAT LIP ABOUT A LOAN
3 KNIGHTS ALL DAZED, ICE ALL’D THE SEA
FINGER GIRL, CONSTANTLY
ON THAT SLIP, I DEEM SEETHER THERE
I SMELL THE MOSES IN HERM’S HAIR [3x]
[guitar solo]
ALRIGHT, LET’S GIVE IT TO ‘EM!
[INSERT AWESOME-TASTICAL ROCK OUTRO HERE]

And thus Jenny and Cassie ended up spending the remaining 5 minutes of Pus’s set wondering what Moses was doing in Herm’s hair and how much the lip, the cost, and the scene was sold for.
But this curiosity was soon easily remedied as Paranoia! Academy was the next to perform. An eruption of enthusiastic cheers and chanting filled the concert hall as the band took their place on stage and began to play an ultra lively version of “When I Say Shotgun…” During the techno, instrumental intro, Brennon Urith, the vocalist, screamed out: “HEEEEEEEEEEEY, DURAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNND!!!! HOW Y’ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT???!!!!!” The response mostly consisted of very loud, very annoying, shrieked “I LOVE YOU, BRENNON!!!”’s and “OHMY----INGGOD, THIS IS AWESOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMME!!!”’s from the fans. The hype was so dominating that the concert craze didn’t die down until the 2nd to the last song, when the majority of the fans throats were too exhausted to scream anymore.
And obviously there was a Hell of a lot more to the concert, but it was all just so over-whelmingly brilliant, that no amount of fancy adjectives or adverbs could even begin to describe it. Let’s just say, according to Cassie and Jenny, it was easily the best night of their lives.
And not just because of the concert. Oh, not that it wasn’t the dictionary definition of awesome, but after the concert ended, the night somehow managed to get even better.
You see, as the two were driving home, they decided to stop by McDonalds for some late dinner, as both of them were quite ravenous by then. And although they knew it would be more prudent to simply go through the drive-thru and continue down the road toward home, they were both pretty sick of being coped up in the car after 2 and a half hours of non-stop driving, so they decided to eat inside the restaurant.
“Dude,” Jenny sighed, as they trudged into the building. “I am SO ---ing tired. That show was freakin’ crazy.”
“I know, right?” agreed Cassie. “I still smell like beer and patchouli oil from when that one Goth ass-hole threw his drink all over me and gave me a hug.”
At the mention of this fiasco, Jenny cracked up and attempted to impersonate the aforementioned alcoholic Antichrist-wannabe by contorting her face into a half-dead-looking zombie stare and drunkenly swaying from side to side. “Oh, I issssh sorryyyyyyy, girlehhhhhh,” she slurred. “I didn’ seeeee you therrrrrrrrre. Gimme a huggggggg.” And then she pretended to practically knock Cassie over, as the inebriated Goth had done. This, of course, caused yet another small fit of laughter; after which, the 2 managed to contain themselves long enough to order 2 large orders of fries, a few burgers, and some soda.
As they were ravenously inhaling their food, Jenny couldn’t help noticing the man seated in the cubicle next to theirs, who was raving on his cell-phone, sounded strangely familiar.
“Jay! I can’t believe you!” he exclaimed, obviously upset. “How could you hire a co-lyricist and not tell me?!” 10 seconds of silence passed, as whoever was on the other side of the familiar voice’s conversation responded.
Jenny’s appearance was now completely meditative at this point, as she began racking her brain, wondering where, oh, where had she heard that voice before?
“Well, yeah, of course it’s ---ing important!” went on the next-cubicle-ranter. “I mean, you could’ve at least shown me the dude’s work before you just flew ‘im over to Illinois and hired him!… Huh?…. Oh, I’m sorry: you could’ve at least shown me HER work before flying HER over and hiring HER.”
It was at this point that Cassie stopped inhaling her fries long enough to notice her friends deeply absorbed-looking thinking-face.
“Jenniesh? Wha’s wrong?” she asked, with a mouthful of fries.
“Shh!” hushed Jenny, trying to hear what was being said on the other side of the cubicle. “Listen,” she whispered. And Cassie obeyed.
“And what’s the girl’s name, anyway?” said the strangely familiar voice. Then, after a pause, he thoughtfully repeated, “Belinda Sacko. Hmm… Never heard of her.” But Cassie and Jenny had. Matter of fact, they had both known and had been communicating with Belinda for over 2 years, via the internet.
So, of course, at the mention of her name, they both automatically shot a look over the wall separating the 2 cubicles and, to their utter shocked-into-silence awe, discovered that Mikey Ralphson, the sandy blonde, chin-length-haired, brown-eyed vocalist and main composer of Mobile Fallout Shelter, was seated in the cubicle RIGHT. FREAKING. NEXT. TO. THEIRS!!!
They were so paralyzed with shock at being a mere 5 meters away from one of their favorite rock stars that they forgot to sit back down before Mikey discovered them gawking at him. But, luckily, being a obsession-worthy celebrity for 7 years, Mikey was obviously used to being gawked at. So when he noticed the 2 girls awkwardly hovering above his table staring at him as if he had just grown blue tentacles and devil horns out of his ears, all he did was give them a friendly smile and a casual wave. (Which, of course, looked bloody adorable. ) Cassie and Jenny sheepishly did the same and awkwardly sat back down. But it definitely wasn’t one of their “as you were” moments. They didn’t forget about being in speaking/hearing distance of one their all-time favorite pop/punk rockers, they didn’t go back to stuffing their faces, and they definitely didn’t forget about what it must mean if guess-which-super-cute-blonde was talking to someone named Jay. He was on the phone with Jason Wenterz. Jason Wenterz, who had just told Mikey he‘d hired one of their best friends as a co-lyricist! If Cassie and Jenny hadn’t been busy being driven into a Bedlam-banishing anxiety attack by this news, they would’ve broken into an excited screaming fit that would’ve gotten them kicked out of the restaurant.
“She goes by what?…. Yuki….?” said Mikey. “….Uh-huh…. Okay…. And how old is she, again?” There was pause, and then: “19? She’s a little young to be a pro, isn’t she?” Actually, in Cassie and Jenny’s minds, she was a little old. They happened to know for a fact that “Yuki” was only 15 or 16. So why was Jason lying about her age? Cassie was about to ask herself out-loud that very question when she stumbled upon the answer. “Child labor laws,” she mouthed to a still confused Jenny.
“Oh…” Jenny mouthed back, with a knowing nod and an admiring smile at the cleverness of Wen-Wen. They both knew it was much more than the legal aspects of Yuki’s youth. It was also the fact that Mikey wasn’t half as scandalously liberal as Jason. He was far too virtuous to allow a mere 15/16-year-old to work for the band and thus plunge yet another perfectly healthy child into the filth that is modern-day Hollywood. Same probably went for Bob Sparroth, The Human Shields manager. After all, we‘ve all seen what happens to kids when they grow up too fast and too long in such unhealthy environments. Oh, sure, Yuki probably wouldn’t turn out to be another Mary Kate Olsin, especially since she’d be the farthest thing from a child star anyway. But just because she most likely wouldn‘t be famous, that didn‘t mean the whole celebrity/rockstar scene would be any more child-friendly. (Not that the whole child labor laws issue would’ve been much help, either.)
“And where’d you find her, anyway?” Jennys‘ ear was pressed so intensely to the wall separating her and Cassie from Mikey that when she‘d detach her face from the plastic an hour later, the imprint would be stuck on her skin for 2 weeks. “The internet? Well, how do you know she’s not some weirdo just POSING as a 19-year-old girl?….. What? YOU MET HER?! Well, why didn’t you invite me?! I wanna meet her too.” Another pause. This time, the 2 sensed movement from beyond the wall. Jenny darted another glance at their neighbor, this time much more discreetly. He was writing something on a napkin. Whatever it was, judging by the confirming “Uh-huh“’s he was muttering, it was probably being dictated to him over the phone. Once she had obtained this information, she instantaneously ducked back into her seat. No way in hell was she going to be caught staring at Mikey twice in the same 10 minutes. Not only would it be embarrassing, but the rocker might figure out her and Cassie were eaves-dropping and would probably continue the conversation elsewhere.
“Oh, Jay, hold on a minute, I got another call.” And a syndicated “beep” sounded from Blondie’s side of the wall as he put Jason on hold. (And even though the following conversation isn’t really important, this chapter has been unbearably dull so far, so I’m including this banter to make it a bit more entertaining. Sorry.)

Mikey: “’Lo?”
“WHY, HELLURZ, RALPHSON!!!” came the screamed, over-flamboyant response. It sounded almost like William Shatner trying to sound cordial on StarTrek, only not as convincing.
“VASH!” Mikey exclaimed louder than he needed to, obviously not-so-pleasantly surprised. Then he noticed a few people in the place where now staring at him, alarmed at his mini-out-burst and half-whispered, half-hissed into the phone: “Where did you get this number?!”
“I have my sources. Now, I assume Jay Wen already told you about the girl? Uhhhh, what was her name? Yuki? Ah, yes, lovely girl. Had the pleasure of meeting her 2 days ago. Rather cute, actually. A bit insecure for my taste though.”
“Vash, what did you do to her?” Mikey asked threateningly. It was a hard, emotionless, expect-the-worst question that demanded an answer.
But Vash refused to give it and went on in the same sneeringly conversational tone.
“Although I must say, for such a sweet child, her high-school is pretty unfriendly. They certainly didn’t welcome me. I swear, you wouldn’t believe what I had to go through just to get inside.” A sinister chuckle was the next thing to make the air-waves shudder. “Public schools sure are getting paranoid these days.”
“Malluste, I ---ing swear to God if you layed a finger on her, I’ll…” But then Mikey realized what Vashoutoh had said. “Wait, what do you mean her HIGH SCHOOL? She’s 19!”
“19?!?!” Vashoutoh cackled. “Ralphson, have you even MET her? She doesn’t look a day over 16! I mean, with a little make-up, maybe 18, but still.”
Silence, silence, silence. Jason had lied to him. Mikey was sick with disappoint.
“Ohhh, I see. You haven’t met her yet, have you?” drawled the spawn of Satin on the other side of the line. “Well, not to worry, hon. I’ll tell you all about her.” At this point Mikey knew another out-burst was imminent and he preferred not to have it in public, so, still holding the phone to his ear, he got up and began walking towards the parking lot where his midnight blue Civic Honda was parked. But as he did this, he accidentally tripped on a stray ketchup packet on the floor right as he was walking past Jenny and Cassie’s table. The impact of the fall was so unexpectedly powerful that his fingers accidentally slipped and put Vash on speaker before the phone flew out of his grip altogether. It landed with a “plop” next to Cassie.
“She‘s got emerald eyes, dark brown hair, and a long, willowy face that looks absolutely adorable when it‘s contorted in agony,” said the light blue dropped Motorola darkly, as the screen glowed ethereally on Cassie‘s seat. “She has no style and probably gets everything she wears from Kmart or Goodwill. Almost everything is baggy and rumpled. Which is odd, considering word on the street is, she’d rather puke up everything she eats than be anything but skinny. You’d think she’d be proud to display the fruits of her starvation.” Another sinister chuckle. “Pun unintended,” Vash added, when he realized the irony of mentioning food and starvation in the same sentence.
“Anyway, she doesn’t wear make-up that much because she tries to be as unnoticeable as possible. I guess she’s scared of what might happen if everyone realized she’s special. Then again, she’d have to realize it first, of course. In which case, I suppose Belinda Sacko will always be a Faceless loser. So I feel sorry for ya, Ralphson. I mean, first your bassist goes insane enough to hire a 15-year-old bulimic human insecurity blanket and then, well… he hires a 15-year-old insecurity blanket.” By this time Mikey had painfully gotten to his feet, briefly apologized to the elder lady he had unfortunately landed on, and was now reaching for his phone. But before he could grab it, a very out-raged Cassie swiped it up and shouted angrily into the poor thing like a microphone: “ALRIGHT, LOOK, YOU SMUG SONOFABITCH!!! I DON’T KNOW ABOUT HER WEARING NOTHING BUT GOODWILL OR KMART OR ANY OF THAT SHIT, BUT I’VE READ EVERY POEM BELINDA’S POSTED AND SHE’S A ----ING GENIOUS!!! HER STUFF’S WAY BETTER THAN ANY SONG YOUR PUSSY BAND COULD EVER WRITE, MALLUSTE!!! SO DON’T GO SAYING SHIT LIKE THAT, BECAUSE IF JAY HAD REALLY GONE INSANE, HE WOULD’VE ASKED YOU TO BE THE CO-LYRICIST!! AND SHE’S NOT BULIMIC, SHE’S JUST GOT A FAST METABOLISM, YOU OBNOXIOUS BASTERD!!!!”
“Um….YEAH, WHAT SHE SAID!!!” Jenny hollered at the phone from her side of the table.
Cassie then turned to Mikey, smiled sweetly, held the phone towards him, and returned it with a complacent “Here ya go. All yours.” Her transformation from furious, screaming ranter to friendly, harmless fan was so swift she could’ve probably been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
“Okay, okay! Damn, Ralphson, your friend’s VIOLENT!” exclaimed the phone. Then, right before Mikey hung up on him, Vashoutoh added, “Oh, and I’d prefer if you didn’t put our conversations on speaker. It ruins the intimacy.” Click. So long and good night, Vashie-kins.
“So…. You 2 know Belinda?” Mikey asked, looking bewilderedly at Cassie and Jenny.
They nodded. “Don’t listen to a word Vash says about her. Every word of that was total bull,” Jenny assured him. She thought about telling him Vash had, however, been telling the truth about Belinda’s age, but decided against it. She didn’t want to ruin Belinda’s shot at a lyrical career.
Mikey opened up his mouth to say something, but then remembered Jason was still on hold and put the phone back to his ear. It turned out he had to hurry over to the studio right away, so he didn’t have time to say good-bye, much less question Cassie and Jenny further.
“Man, we should’ve gotten his autograph!” Cassie groaned once he had left.
“Yeah.” Jenny sighed. “Oh well. We better get back on the road.”
Cassie nodded and looked at her watch. She swore. “It’s almost past my curfew! C’mon, we gotta go!” So the two threw the remains of their meal into the trash, raced out the door, got in the car, and arrived at Cassie’s place around midnight central time. And thus ended the best night of their lives. The best night of theirs and the worst night of Belinda’s.

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