Categories > Celebrities > Slipknot > Heartache every moment
Chapter 7 - 'In Joy and Sorrow'
At 4:30pm, Mick knew he had to wake Joey up. The bus was leaving in 10 minutes, and he still had to get dressed. As slowly and gently as he could, as if in an effort to not wake Joey up at all and thus leave him be, he shook his shoulder. Joey murmured in his sleep but didn’t wake.
“Joey?” Mick whispered.
Another rub on the shoulder, and the small man began to stir. He found it hard to wake - he felt as though he was fighting through thick water, trying desperately reach the sunlit surface that taunted him above, so close and yet so far.
Mick rinsed the cloth in cold water in the bathroom, and patted it around Joey’s face. The chilly sensation brought Joey to the surface, and he opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and rimmed by dark circles. Joey looked like the living dead. Another time and place and Joey would have loved that, but right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.
“What?” he mumbled.
Mick looked at him in sympathy.
“Bus leaves soon. Do you want to play?”
Joey had forgotten about the show tonight. Dammit
“I have to, don’t I?”
“You’re really sick, Joey.”
Joey wasn’t having any of it, He sat up, and was immediately hit by a bus. Or so he thought. His head swayed on his shoulders and he saw the room fly around him, and 3 Micks. One of the Micks came to his side and held onto him, and slowly the dizziness evaporated.
“Do you want to try having something to eat?” Mick asked. He had ordered a sample of just about everything on the meal from room service, and most of it was still sitting on the tray. Joey reached for a sandwich, hoping food would help and not hinder him. He choked down several mouthfuls and felt a bit better, enough to risk standing up. Holding onto Mick, he stood up slowly, and almost instantly felt his knees buckle. Mick grabbed him and sat him down again.
“I just need more food,” Joey insisted.
Mick wasn’t fooled. Joey looked awful. It would take more than food to help him.
Joey managed the rest of the sandwich, and sat for a few minutes. The next attempt at standing was better, he managed to stay upright this time. Walking was a whole other story, though. The room swayed, and quite alarmingly, started to lurch from side to side, making it awfully difficult for Joey to walk in a straight line. Holding onto Mick, he made it to the bathroom, and then into his boilersuit. By that stage he was exhausted, and felt more ill than he had in the last few days since he caught this damn bug. At least his stomach hadn’t decided to expel its contents just yet.
A knock on the door startled them, and Shawn came in.
“Holy hell! You look like shit!”
Joey managed a glare, and so did Mick.
“You going to be ok?” Shawn asked.
Joey nodded. Mick had other ideas. He shook his head at the percussionist.
“He can barely stand. There’s no way he can drum,” Mick said.
“I want to try,” Joey said, trying to sound angry and managing to sound like a dead man instead.
“You and your sense of duty, Joey. It will kill you one day. Let’s hope today ain’t it.” With that, Shawn opened the door. Mick reluctantly picked Joey up, preferring to leave the drummer right where he was. They made their way downstairs, Shawn with the bags Mick had packed. The others were waiting on the bus, and even Sid fell silent when he saw the state of Joey. The look on Mick’s face kept them quiet.
Mick held Joey in his lap on the way to the venue. Joey had drifted off again, which Mick was thankful for. He knew there was no way Joey could play. He just couldn’t see tonight’s gig going off as planned.
*
Fans were lining up around the block, and Mick couldn’t help but feel bad. They had no idea tonight’s concert would either be drastically different, or at worst, cancelled. He hoped there would be no riots. He knew if he was lining up to see his favourite band, he would be gutted and angry if they couldn’t play.
Pulling up around the back, Mick lifted a very light Joey in his arms. The tiny man didn’t move as Mick carried him downstairs and to their dressing room. Mick brushed past their manager, who looked alarmed at the sight of Joey.
Laying Joey on a couch, Mick sat down next to him with his head in his hands.
“Joey can’t play.”
There was no argument. Whether that was because they all could tell Joey was in a bad way, or because they thought Mick would thump them if they disagreed, Mick didn’t know. But they knew they would be without their drummer that night.
Mick let the others discuss their options, and instead watched Joey. At one point, Chris drifted over, and stood watching over him too.
“He needs a doctor.”
Mick had never agreed with anything so much in his life.
Chris lay a hand on his back. “It’s gotta be so hard for you.”
Mick turned to face him. What was Chris talking about? Did he know? But it was obvious from the look on his face that he did know. Mick swallowed, and nodded, turning his glance back to the sleeping figure on the couch.
Sudden loud expressions of agreement occurred from the huddle of Slipknot members on the other side of the dressing room. Mick told them to shut up harshly, even though he was sure Joey wouldn’t wake up to an elephant storming the room. Paul apologised, and explained that Shawn would drum.
They rearranged the setlist to the songs that Shawn knew well on the drums, and Corey was nominated for explaining to the crowd their new line up.
*
Mick thought they pulled it off quite well. Although there was some booing and yells from certain parts of the crowd when Corey explained about Joey, most of the fans were understanding. It wasn’t quite a normal Slipknot show, On two occasions they got things bungled up and had to stop, but the audience members seemed to think they were witnessing a one of a kind Slipknot show and put up with it, so they could brag to their friends later that they had seen that Slipknot show with Shawn on drums. At least, that’s what Mick figured.
He spent most of the gig worrying about Joey. A medic was sitting guard with him, and Mick knew he was in good hands, but he didn’t want Joey to wake up and realise what was happening without Mick there to talk to him, He knew the drummer would be livid. But Joey really wasn’t in good enough shape to come out here and play, and Mick figured they’d have had to stick Shawn behind the kit at some point anyway. He tried to concentrate on playing, but ended up just going through the motions. His heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t the same without Joey, and Mick knew he wasn’t the only one thinking that.
The last song came as a relief. He had spent the last 90 minutes waiting for it to be over. He had tried to be enthusiastic, he really had, but the truth was he couldn’t have cared less about the gig. He just wanted it to be done, so he could be back where he belonged.
Joey was still asleep. He hadn’t woken up at all, which was probably a good thing. The medic had inserted an IV, and Mick was thankful to see he was getting some rehydration. He was quite prepared to sit down and take his rightful place next to Joey when Shawn stopped him and made him take a shower first.
“10 more minutes won’t kill either of you,” he pointed out, smiling softly.
Mick had a very quick shower, but had to admit he felt better afterwards. Anxiously he headed back into the dressing room, where of course, Joey was still sleeping like the dead. Mick noted he had barely moved from his original position on the couch. Hoping that wasn’t a bad sign, he sat down, and gratefully took hold of a plate of pizza their manager had brought in. He ate slowly, not tasting the pizza at all, and it took him 5 minutes to notice the bottle of beer Craig sat down next to him. Chris shot him a sympathetic look as he kept his vigil over Joey, and Mick gave him a wan smile in return.
He couldn’t talk about that day. About the guilt that sat inside him like a caged tiger, haunting his thoughts. He had been far too careless with Joey that morning. He was supposed to be taking care of him, and instead exhausted him to the point of collapse. Mick vowed to never again let his cock rule his head. Even though it was what Joey had wanted, it wasn’t what he needed, which was sleep and water. He knew he wouldn’t feel any better about it until Joey had recovered.
“Ok boys, we need to move out!” Their manager’s voice rang out through the dressing room, and Mick stuffed the last mouthful of pizza into his mouth. The medic took out the drip and repeated the mantra - sleep and water, food eventually - and Mick tenderly took Joey into his arms again. The small man gave no indication of rousing, which didn’t surprise Mick.
He made the familiar way to their couch on the top deck of the bus, now adorned with various pillows and blankets. No hotel tonight; they were driving right through to the morning. He made Joey comfortable, settling him amongst the cushions and laying a rug over him. Mick grabbed another beer and sat down in the couch opposite, not feeling the need to sleep despite the lack of it last night. He ignored the TV and video games. Instead, he sat watching Joey as the bus pulled out into the night, and as they ate up the miles he lost himself. It was somewhere near the border that he finally drifted off.
At 4:30pm, Mick knew he had to wake Joey up. The bus was leaving in 10 minutes, and he still had to get dressed. As slowly and gently as he could, as if in an effort to not wake Joey up at all and thus leave him be, he shook his shoulder. Joey murmured in his sleep but didn’t wake.
“Joey?” Mick whispered.
Another rub on the shoulder, and the small man began to stir. He found it hard to wake - he felt as though he was fighting through thick water, trying desperately reach the sunlit surface that taunted him above, so close and yet so far.
Mick rinsed the cloth in cold water in the bathroom, and patted it around Joey’s face. The chilly sensation brought Joey to the surface, and he opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and rimmed by dark circles. Joey looked like the living dead. Another time and place and Joey would have loved that, but right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.
“What?” he mumbled.
Mick looked at him in sympathy.
“Bus leaves soon. Do you want to play?”
Joey had forgotten about the show tonight. Dammit
“I have to, don’t I?”
“You’re really sick, Joey.”
Joey wasn’t having any of it, He sat up, and was immediately hit by a bus. Or so he thought. His head swayed on his shoulders and he saw the room fly around him, and 3 Micks. One of the Micks came to his side and held onto him, and slowly the dizziness evaporated.
“Do you want to try having something to eat?” Mick asked. He had ordered a sample of just about everything on the meal from room service, and most of it was still sitting on the tray. Joey reached for a sandwich, hoping food would help and not hinder him. He choked down several mouthfuls and felt a bit better, enough to risk standing up. Holding onto Mick, he stood up slowly, and almost instantly felt his knees buckle. Mick grabbed him and sat him down again.
“I just need more food,” Joey insisted.
Mick wasn’t fooled. Joey looked awful. It would take more than food to help him.
Joey managed the rest of the sandwich, and sat for a few minutes. The next attempt at standing was better, he managed to stay upright this time. Walking was a whole other story, though. The room swayed, and quite alarmingly, started to lurch from side to side, making it awfully difficult for Joey to walk in a straight line. Holding onto Mick, he made it to the bathroom, and then into his boilersuit. By that stage he was exhausted, and felt more ill than he had in the last few days since he caught this damn bug. At least his stomach hadn’t decided to expel its contents just yet.
A knock on the door startled them, and Shawn came in.
“Holy hell! You look like shit!”
Joey managed a glare, and so did Mick.
“You going to be ok?” Shawn asked.
Joey nodded. Mick had other ideas. He shook his head at the percussionist.
“He can barely stand. There’s no way he can drum,” Mick said.
“I want to try,” Joey said, trying to sound angry and managing to sound like a dead man instead.
“You and your sense of duty, Joey. It will kill you one day. Let’s hope today ain’t it.” With that, Shawn opened the door. Mick reluctantly picked Joey up, preferring to leave the drummer right where he was. They made their way downstairs, Shawn with the bags Mick had packed. The others were waiting on the bus, and even Sid fell silent when he saw the state of Joey. The look on Mick’s face kept them quiet.
Mick held Joey in his lap on the way to the venue. Joey had drifted off again, which Mick was thankful for. He knew there was no way Joey could play. He just couldn’t see tonight’s gig going off as planned.
*
Fans were lining up around the block, and Mick couldn’t help but feel bad. They had no idea tonight’s concert would either be drastically different, or at worst, cancelled. He hoped there would be no riots. He knew if he was lining up to see his favourite band, he would be gutted and angry if they couldn’t play.
Pulling up around the back, Mick lifted a very light Joey in his arms. The tiny man didn’t move as Mick carried him downstairs and to their dressing room. Mick brushed past their manager, who looked alarmed at the sight of Joey.
Laying Joey on a couch, Mick sat down next to him with his head in his hands.
“Joey can’t play.”
There was no argument. Whether that was because they all could tell Joey was in a bad way, or because they thought Mick would thump them if they disagreed, Mick didn’t know. But they knew they would be without their drummer that night.
Mick let the others discuss their options, and instead watched Joey. At one point, Chris drifted over, and stood watching over him too.
“He needs a doctor.”
Mick had never agreed with anything so much in his life.
Chris lay a hand on his back. “It’s gotta be so hard for you.”
Mick turned to face him. What was Chris talking about? Did he know? But it was obvious from the look on his face that he did know. Mick swallowed, and nodded, turning his glance back to the sleeping figure on the couch.
Sudden loud expressions of agreement occurred from the huddle of Slipknot members on the other side of the dressing room. Mick told them to shut up harshly, even though he was sure Joey wouldn’t wake up to an elephant storming the room. Paul apologised, and explained that Shawn would drum.
They rearranged the setlist to the songs that Shawn knew well on the drums, and Corey was nominated for explaining to the crowd their new line up.
*
Mick thought they pulled it off quite well. Although there was some booing and yells from certain parts of the crowd when Corey explained about Joey, most of the fans were understanding. It wasn’t quite a normal Slipknot show, On two occasions they got things bungled up and had to stop, but the audience members seemed to think they were witnessing a one of a kind Slipknot show and put up with it, so they could brag to their friends later that they had seen that Slipknot show with Shawn on drums. At least, that’s what Mick figured.
He spent most of the gig worrying about Joey. A medic was sitting guard with him, and Mick knew he was in good hands, but he didn’t want Joey to wake up and realise what was happening without Mick there to talk to him, He knew the drummer would be livid. But Joey really wasn’t in good enough shape to come out here and play, and Mick figured they’d have had to stick Shawn behind the kit at some point anyway. He tried to concentrate on playing, but ended up just going through the motions. His heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t the same without Joey, and Mick knew he wasn’t the only one thinking that.
The last song came as a relief. He had spent the last 90 minutes waiting for it to be over. He had tried to be enthusiastic, he really had, but the truth was he couldn’t have cared less about the gig. He just wanted it to be done, so he could be back where he belonged.
Joey was still asleep. He hadn’t woken up at all, which was probably a good thing. The medic had inserted an IV, and Mick was thankful to see he was getting some rehydration. He was quite prepared to sit down and take his rightful place next to Joey when Shawn stopped him and made him take a shower first.
“10 more minutes won’t kill either of you,” he pointed out, smiling softly.
Mick had a very quick shower, but had to admit he felt better afterwards. Anxiously he headed back into the dressing room, where of course, Joey was still sleeping like the dead. Mick noted he had barely moved from his original position on the couch. Hoping that wasn’t a bad sign, he sat down, and gratefully took hold of a plate of pizza their manager had brought in. He ate slowly, not tasting the pizza at all, and it took him 5 minutes to notice the bottle of beer Craig sat down next to him. Chris shot him a sympathetic look as he kept his vigil over Joey, and Mick gave him a wan smile in return.
He couldn’t talk about that day. About the guilt that sat inside him like a caged tiger, haunting his thoughts. He had been far too careless with Joey that morning. He was supposed to be taking care of him, and instead exhausted him to the point of collapse. Mick vowed to never again let his cock rule his head. Even though it was what Joey had wanted, it wasn’t what he needed, which was sleep and water. He knew he wouldn’t feel any better about it until Joey had recovered.
“Ok boys, we need to move out!” Their manager’s voice rang out through the dressing room, and Mick stuffed the last mouthful of pizza into his mouth. The medic took out the drip and repeated the mantra - sleep and water, food eventually - and Mick tenderly took Joey into his arms again. The small man gave no indication of rousing, which didn’t surprise Mick.
He made the familiar way to their couch on the top deck of the bus, now adorned with various pillows and blankets. No hotel tonight; they were driving right through to the morning. He made Joey comfortable, settling him amongst the cushions and laying a rug over him. Mick grabbed another beer and sat down in the couch opposite, not feeling the need to sleep despite the lack of it last night. He ignored the TV and video games. Instead, he sat watching Joey as the bus pulled out into the night, and as they ate up the miles he lost himself. It was somewhere near the border that he finally drifted off.
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