Categories > Celebrities > Metallica > Epicene Part 1
Pussycat and Malibu Hooker’s idyllic life went down the gutter when Damon and his band signed a contract to a label and went into the studio to record their debut album; Faith’s beloved one broke up with her with a note left on the fridge:
He also had stolen all the spare change around the house. Bye-bye, Miss American Pie, I hope you choke on your vomit. Fucker. Destroyed by the terrible news (or the best thing Damon had ever done to her, according to Dave), Faith ran back crying to her mother, asking Dave to keep the apartment, with the promise she would come back once she felt better.
Too bad that September had come and brought back Gene’s son with it, which meant Dave had to go find another job to maintain himself and pay for the place.
The day Dave went to buy a fake driver license, he noticed on his way back some flyers hanging on a wall, advertising that Exodus were to do a concert at Troubadour in about an hour. Instinctively, he decided to go.
He reached the venue and hanged in the back, leaning to the wall, watching the band rule the stage and the audience go wild. He felt worse and worse every minute that passed, like a heavy weight was setting on his stomach. Yet, in the same time, he felt completely at home; he knew that was his scene, the place he was supposed to be. The two contrasting feelings were battling inside of him, but no one could prevail on the other.
Dave had learned to deal with all the madness that had happened to him, but at what price? What was happening to the old Dave Mustaine, now? Was he struggling to survive into Vivien David’s body? Or was he slowly dying, leaving place to Vivien? And who the fuck was Vivien David, by the way? What was she passionate about, what did she want to do with her life?
Or should he say ‘she’? Should he be thinking of himself as a ‘she’ now?
He ran away from the club and went back home. He had lost everything, his dreams had been shattered, and now he was having a major identity crisis. Great, fucking great.
In the middle of the night, he woke up with a start. What had James said, before putting him on that bus? “we’re gonna send your gear to your mum”. He had completely forgotten about that.
Had they done it? Was his guitar at his mother’s house? Dave twisted the hem of his bedsheets until he ripped the thin fabric. He would go get his stuff. He would go see his mother.
The morning after, Dave borrowed Faith’s car and drove to his mother’s house, pondering on what he was going to do and say, imagining every possible scenario, just to arrive at Ma Mustaine’s place feeling completely unprepared.
Once in front of the door, Dave took a deep breath and rang the bell, waiting for his mother to get the door. He almost fainted when he saw her, but quickly recollected himself, making the mental order to stop being such a fucking wimp. You still have your balls. He said to himself. They have just… moved inside.
“Mrs Emily Mustaine, right?” His mother nodded. “Good morning ma’am, sorry to bother you, but your son asked me to come here.”
“Dave sent you?” Emily asked. God bless her, at the mention of her son, her eyes lit up. “Are you a friend of my boy?”
“Yes ma’am, he’s sorry he couldn’t come himself, but he’s very busy at the moment.”
“Come in, come in, is there anything I can offer you?”
“No, thank you, ma’am, I’m here only…”
“Please, call me Emily.”
“Emily. I’m only here because your son need his old guitar and amp and said you probably have them. Do you?”
The woman nodded, “Yes, but if he needs his stuff, why did he send it to me?”
“He was a bit… you know, it wasn’t him, he had…”
“It’s ok if he was in trouble, you can tell me. He has always been, one way or the other.” Emily sighed. “Come with me, I’ll show you where his things are. Do you think he may want his record player and album collection too? I’m sure he misses his beloved music.”
Dave’s heart clenched; he was so close to his mother, and yet he couldn’t reach her, and she was sad because of him.
“Tell me, how is my son doing?”
“He’s doing fine, he sends you his love, but as I’ve said, he’s very busy.”
“All right, but please, ask him to find a moment to call his mother.”
“I will.” Replied Dave, gripping the neck of his guitar. “He loves you, you know? You’re always in his thoughts.”
“I know, and I wish him all the best.” Emily said, looking at Dave in the eyes. “You know, you look a lot like him, with your red hair and beautiful eyes.”
For a moment, Dave hoped his mother would recognize him. Please, ask me anything, everything. He pleaded. Emily stared at Dave for a little longer without saying anything.
“Tell him to take care. That’s all I need to know, that he’s all right.”
“I will, Emily. I will.”
Before heading home, Dave stopped to a liquor store and wasted all the money he had in his wallet on vodka and whisky. He had been drinking with moderation for way too long, now he wanted to get shitfaced, drink himself into oblivion for the first time since he had returned to L.A. He needed it, he craved it.
Dave had no idea what to do with his guitar and amp. They were vestiges of a past dead and gone, of friends he had lost, of an existence that didn’t belong to him anymore. He had to sell them. No, another part of him said, they were symbols of his true self, of his passion for music, of the only purpose he ever had in life. He had to keep them. His head was spinning, his throat burning. He fell asleep on the queen-size bed; the last bottle of vodka slipped from his hand and rolled on the floor, staining the carpet.
The morning after, the pounding sound of a bass guitar hammered Dave’s brain without pity.
Author's Notes: This is the end of the first part, I hope you've enjoyed it. Of course, there's gonna be a second part, but I haven't started writing it yet, so I won't be posting it anytime soon. See ya!
We’re Over
Thanx 4 all the sex ‘n’ shit
Adios
He also had stolen all the spare change around the house. Bye-bye, Miss American Pie, I hope you choke on your vomit. Fucker. Destroyed by the terrible news (or the best thing Damon had ever done to her, according to Dave), Faith ran back crying to her mother, asking Dave to keep the apartment, with the promise she would come back once she felt better.
Too bad that September had come and brought back Gene’s son with it, which meant Dave had to go find another job to maintain himself and pay for the place.
The day Dave went to buy a fake driver license, he noticed on his way back some flyers hanging on a wall, advertising that Exodus were to do a concert at Troubadour in about an hour. Instinctively, he decided to go.
He reached the venue and hanged in the back, leaning to the wall, watching the band rule the stage and the audience go wild. He felt worse and worse every minute that passed, like a heavy weight was setting on his stomach. Yet, in the same time, he felt completely at home; he knew that was his scene, the place he was supposed to be. The two contrasting feelings were battling inside of him, but no one could prevail on the other.
Dave had learned to deal with all the madness that had happened to him, but at what price? What was happening to the old Dave Mustaine, now? Was he struggling to survive into Vivien David’s body? Or was he slowly dying, leaving place to Vivien? And who the fuck was Vivien David, by the way? What was she passionate about, what did she want to do with her life?
Or should he say ‘she’? Should he be thinking of himself as a ‘she’ now?
He ran away from the club and went back home. He had lost everything, his dreams had been shattered, and now he was having a major identity crisis. Great, fucking great.
In the middle of the night, he woke up with a start. What had James said, before putting him on that bus? “we’re gonna send your gear to your mum”. He had completely forgotten about that.
Had they done it? Was his guitar at his mother’s house? Dave twisted the hem of his bedsheets until he ripped the thin fabric. He would go get his stuff. He would go see his mother.
The morning after, Dave borrowed Faith’s car and drove to his mother’s house, pondering on what he was going to do and say, imagining every possible scenario, just to arrive at Ma Mustaine’s place feeling completely unprepared.
Once in front of the door, Dave took a deep breath and rang the bell, waiting for his mother to get the door. He almost fainted when he saw her, but quickly recollected himself, making the mental order to stop being such a fucking wimp. You still have your balls. He said to himself. They have just… moved inside.
“Mrs Emily Mustaine, right?” His mother nodded. “Good morning ma’am, sorry to bother you, but your son asked me to come here.”
“Dave sent you?” Emily asked. God bless her, at the mention of her son, her eyes lit up. “Are you a friend of my boy?”
“Yes ma’am, he’s sorry he couldn’t come himself, but he’s very busy at the moment.”
“Come in, come in, is there anything I can offer you?”
“No, thank you, ma’am, I’m here only…”
“Please, call me Emily.”
“Emily. I’m only here because your son need his old guitar and amp and said you probably have them. Do you?”
The woman nodded, “Yes, but if he needs his stuff, why did he send it to me?”
“He was a bit… you know, it wasn’t him, he had…”
“It’s ok if he was in trouble, you can tell me. He has always been, one way or the other.” Emily sighed. “Come with me, I’ll show you where his things are. Do you think he may want his record player and album collection too? I’m sure he misses his beloved music.”
Dave’s heart clenched; he was so close to his mother, and yet he couldn’t reach her, and she was sad because of him.
“Tell me, how is my son doing?”
“He’s doing fine, he sends you his love, but as I’ve said, he’s very busy.”
“All right, but please, ask him to find a moment to call his mother.”
“I will.” Replied Dave, gripping the neck of his guitar. “He loves you, you know? You’re always in his thoughts.”
“I know, and I wish him all the best.” Emily said, looking at Dave in the eyes. “You know, you look a lot like him, with your red hair and beautiful eyes.”
For a moment, Dave hoped his mother would recognize him. Please, ask me anything, everything. He pleaded. Emily stared at Dave for a little longer without saying anything.
“Tell him to take care. That’s all I need to know, that he’s all right.”
“I will, Emily. I will.”
Before heading home, Dave stopped to a liquor store and wasted all the money he had in his wallet on vodka and whisky. He had been drinking with moderation for way too long, now he wanted to get shitfaced, drink himself into oblivion for the first time since he had returned to L.A. He needed it, he craved it.
Dave had no idea what to do with his guitar and amp. They were vestiges of a past dead and gone, of friends he had lost, of an existence that didn’t belong to him anymore. He had to sell them. No, another part of him said, they were symbols of his true self, of his passion for music, of the only purpose he ever had in life. He had to keep them. His head was spinning, his throat burning. He fell asleep on the queen-size bed; the last bottle of vodka slipped from his hand and rolled on the floor, staining the carpet.
The morning after, the pounding sound of a bass guitar hammered Dave’s brain without pity.
Author's Notes: This is the end of the first part, I hope you've enjoyed it. Of course, there's gonna be a second part, but I haven't started writing it yet, so I won't be posting it anytime soon. See ya!
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