Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Through The Eyes Of...
Nikki
Dear fucking diary, MAYDAY! MAYDAY!! Something's wrong! I'm floating around on the fucking ceiling! What in the hell?! Is this for real?! And...and I see myself under a fucking sheet! Am I fucking dreaming? One minute I can hear Slash and Steven, they're arguing about whether or not to help me. Well that sucks. I notice that they slowly start to sound distant, like they were fading. Then the next minute I can see them. I think I'm starting to come around until I see me under that sheet. If that's me then why the fuck am I seeing this!? Holy shit, what's going on?! Who's doing this? This is some strange yet convincing illusion right?! Somebody's playing a trick on me! They have to be! This shit does just randomly happen! There's gotta be an explanation!
I hear a paramedic next to my body say, "He's gone."Gone?! What the fuck does that mean?! I want to shout no I'm not! I'm right here! But I have no voice beyond what's in my head. Which I can tell you is fucking weird, especially when you have something to say. I try swinging at them but i have no arms, just a lingering memory of once having them. Is this my soul floating around? Is that the reason I see everything but can't communicate? Then I watch a sheet cover me. Now here I am, just floating around on the ceiling watching the spectical. Am I dead? Is this what it's like to die? Wheres that stupid bright light they talk about? Yeah, I think this is really it. Ladies and gentlemen, Nikki Sixx has left the building. Wow that's funny, I don't really feel anything.
If this is heaven or hell I must say I'm a bit disappointed. No golden gates. No brimstone. This just justified that everything you learn in church is total bullshit. You don't see St. Peter. No creepy demons waiting to rip me to shreds. Where's all the shit you hear about?! I feel like the tourist who payed for the full package and didn't get it. Maybe neither god nor the Devil wanted me. That's about how my luck goes. Am I supposed to be like this forever? Voiceless? Bodyless? Just a name on a yet undug grave? The mortician will never get my fucking hair right. Nobody gets my hair right but me. That too would be my luck.
So I watched them wheel me down the crowded hallway. People line it gawking at my dead body. Take a fucking picture people! Get the fuck away! They put me in the elevator and take me through the deserted lobby. The doors open to outside and I can see a crowd of people being held back by the cops. Wow is all this for me? They gasp as my body becomes visible. Some cry, others just look in morbid curiosity. A few plead with paramedics to save me. They tell them who I am. One looks down at my body and lifts the sheet from my face and looks at it. "Holy shit, it is Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue!" He seems shocked he didn't recognize me before.
So my body's quickly loaded into the ambulance. They slam the doors shut with me inside. The paramedic wastes no time, he rips the sheet from my body and grabs this huge syringe. It looks like something a vet would use on a fucking horse! He sucks something into it and slams it down in the center of my chest like it's a fucking knife. Hey buddy! Take it fucking easy! That's gonna bruise! He again checks my nonexistent vital signs. Then he loads up another needle leaving the previous one sticking out of my chest. Did you forget something there Mr. paramedic? Then, without warning comes another fucking needle at brute force. This one he slams it into the side of my chest. Ouch! I fucking felt that!
At that moment I feel a hand grab my leg and violently it jerks me down. Who's down there doing that?! I see no one except the paramedics whose hands look pretty full at the moment. Then I suddenly gasp and am staring down at two needles in my chest. I'm back in my body! I'm back! I'm not dead! "I've got a pulse," says the second paramedic. Yes! I made it! I'm alive! My body falls back on the gurney and I feel totally wiped out. Yet at the same time the fight or flight response is really kicking in. But I'm too weak. I just listen to the paramedics congratulating one another. "Nobody dies in my ambulance." Then I guess I pass out. It was a lot to take in but I just fucking died! Nobody's gonna believe this shit!
When I've come around again a nurse is shoving IV's in me. Shes apparently having trouble finding a vein. I'll be sure to remember where it is so I can use it myself. A doctor is shining a light in my eye while prying my eyelids wide. His hands are forceful and freezing. "Where'd you get the drugs!?" A cop asks all up in my face. Fucking fuck the LAPD. With what very little strength I have left I raise my arms trying to get them to all back the fuck off me. I've gotta get the fuck out of here! I'm ok, I'm alive, I'm fine see! Back the fuck off of me!
"Fuck off!" I manage to shout at them. Probably not the nicest thing to say to a bunch of people trying to save my life, but that's what comes out. I'll send them a thank-you card later.
They all take a step back and just stare at me a second before looking at each other in confusion. They're looking at me like I'm a goddamn medical miracle or something. Fuck...am I? I don't know but I'm getting the fuck out of here. I grab the IV in my arm and jerk it out. They start trying to stop me. And naturally I start fighting them. I feel all my energy coming back and just forced into me with this huge whoosh! I rip the oxygen from my face. A doctor tries stopping me and i punch him in the rips. I hear a crack and shove him to the floor. I get up out of that bed and just stare at them. They stand back carefully like I'm a lion or something.
"Sir I need you to get back in the bed," says a nurse reaching for my arm.
"No," I jerk away, "I'm outta here." And I start walking. I'm barefoot, shirtless but i seem to still have my pants. Fuck it, I've escaped in less.
"Sir you shouldn't leave," a doctor says, "you aren't well."
I just huff to myself, like this is a fucking news flash. If that guy only knew. I'm sure he would change him mind about wanting to help me. I shove open the front doors and walk out of that motherfucker. I still need to find Izzy. I go into the parking garage. I'm not sure if I'm hiding, looking for a car to jack, or just someone friendly to take me home. What I find is two crying chicks in a Toyota. They see me and look at me like I'm a fucking ghost.
"Hey, what's up?" I ask scratching my head and moving my hair out of my face.
"Oh my god the radio said you were dead!" They start going on. They seem pretty shocked to find out I'm still alive.
"I'm pretty sure I have at least three lives left," I smirk, "Say, can you guys give me a lift?" Like they'll say no. So they assess whether or not I'm a ghost. And naturally they don't tell me no and I find myself folded up in a back seat obviously designed for a toddler sized person. They drive me back to Van Nyes and my ass feels every last bump. This car is such a piece of shit! Don't these chicks know the shocks are gone? But I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to end up on the road. This particular seedy neighborhood is like the dark side of the fucking moon.
Then I hear my name on the radio. It's really strange hearing you're dead when you're not. At the same time, fuck it, records sales will go up now. I know it's a serious thing, but I just can't help but see the humor in it. Everybody thinks I'm dead! Now's the time to rob a bank or murder someone. I couldn't have done it, I'm dead. Wow, I wonder if anyone I know is worried? My answering machine has probably blown up with messages.
So I get back to my house. I race to my answering machine to see if anyone's called. Not one call. To some degree I understand that, but I'm still a bit pissed and hurt by it. Not one person cares enough to just call, even if they just get a machine. I quickly press the button to record a new message. "Hey, this is Nikki, sorry I can't come to the phone right now cuz I'm dead." I stare long and hard at my phone wishing it would just ring and be Izzy on the other end, but it doesn't happen.
I knew where Izzy was. I'm not a fucking fool. I go upstairs to my bedroom. You'd think that a guy who just died might want a shower first. No. Maybe I could use a good rest. Yeah, but I don't go to sleep. I go into my closet. My dope cornucopia. You're probably thinking to yourself that this probably isn't the best move to be making. And you're probably right. Yet something just wills me in. The pain in my heart maybe, both literally and figuratively. Yeah they stabbed me in the heart, but so did Izzy and that hurts more. I knew that wherever he was he was with Axl. I shoot the biggest load of my life. Maybe it'll kill me, maybe it won't. Right now I just don't fucking care.
Dear fucking diary, MAYDAY! MAYDAY!! Something's wrong! I'm floating around on the fucking ceiling! What in the hell?! Is this for real?! And...and I see myself under a fucking sheet! Am I fucking dreaming? One minute I can hear Slash and Steven, they're arguing about whether or not to help me. Well that sucks. I notice that they slowly start to sound distant, like they were fading. Then the next minute I can see them. I think I'm starting to come around until I see me under that sheet. If that's me then why the fuck am I seeing this!? Holy shit, what's going on?! Who's doing this? This is some strange yet convincing illusion right?! Somebody's playing a trick on me! They have to be! This shit does just randomly happen! There's gotta be an explanation!
I hear a paramedic next to my body say, "He's gone."Gone?! What the fuck does that mean?! I want to shout no I'm not! I'm right here! But I have no voice beyond what's in my head. Which I can tell you is fucking weird, especially when you have something to say. I try swinging at them but i have no arms, just a lingering memory of once having them. Is this my soul floating around? Is that the reason I see everything but can't communicate? Then I watch a sheet cover me. Now here I am, just floating around on the ceiling watching the spectical. Am I dead? Is this what it's like to die? Wheres that stupid bright light they talk about? Yeah, I think this is really it. Ladies and gentlemen, Nikki Sixx has left the building. Wow that's funny, I don't really feel anything.
If this is heaven or hell I must say I'm a bit disappointed. No golden gates. No brimstone. This just justified that everything you learn in church is total bullshit. You don't see St. Peter. No creepy demons waiting to rip me to shreds. Where's all the shit you hear about?! I feel like the tourist who payed for the full package and didn't get it. Maybe neither god nor the Devil wanted me. That's about how my luck goes. Am I supposed to be like this forever? Voiceless? Bodyless? Just a name on a yet undug grave? The mortician will never get my fucking hair right. Nobody gets my hair right but me. That too would be my luck.
So I watched them wheel me down the crowded hallway. People line it gawking at my dead body. Take a fucking picture people! Get the fuck away! They put me in the elevator and take me through the deserted lobby. The doors open to outside and I can see a crowd of people being held back by the cops. Wow is all this for me? They gasp as my body becomes visible. Some cry, others just look in morbid curiosity. A few plead with paramedics to save me. They tell them who I am. One looks down at my body and lifts the sheet from my face and looks at it. "Holy shit, it is Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue!" He seems shocked he didn't recognize me before.
So my body's quickly loaded into the ambulance. They slam the doors shut with me inside. The paramedic wastes no time, he rips the sheet from my body and grabs this huge syringe. It looks like something a vet would use on a fucking horse! He sucks something into it and slams it down in the center of my chest like it's a fucking knife. Hey buddy! Take it fucking easy! That's gonna bruise! He again checks my nonexistent vital signs. Then he loads up another needle leaving the previous one sticking out of my chest. Did you forget something there Mr. paramedic? Then, without warning comes another fucking needle at brute force. This one he slams it into the side of my chest. Ouch! I fucking felt that!
At that moment I feel a hand grab my leg and violently it jerks me down. Who's down there doing that?! I see no one except the paramedics whose hands look pretty full at the moment. Then I suddenly gasp and am staring down at two needles in my chest. I'm back in my body! I'm back! I'm not dead! "I've got a pulse," says the second paramedic. Yes! I made it! I'm alive! My body falls back on the gurney and I feel totally wiped out. Yet at the same time the fight or flight response is really kicking in. But I'm too weak. I just listen to the paramedics congratulating one another. "Nobody dies in my ambulance." Then I guess I pass out. It was a lot to take in but I just fucking died! Nobody's gonna believe this shit!
When I've come around again a nurse is shoving IV's in me. Shes apparently having trouble finding a vein. I'll be sure to remember where it is so I can use it myself. A doctor is shining a light in my eye while prying my eyelids wide. His hands are forceful and freezing. "Where'd you get the drugs!?" A cop asks all up in my face. Fucking fuck the LAPD. With what very little strength I have left I raise my arms trying to get them to all back the fuck off me. I've gotta get the fuck out of here! I'm ok, I'm alive, I'm fine see! Back the fuck off of me!
"Fuck off!" I manage to shout at them. Probably not the nicest thing to say to a bunch of people trying to save my life, but that's what comes out. I'll send them a thank-you card later.
They all take a step back and just stare at me a second before looking at each other in confusion. They're looking at me like I'm a goddamn medical miracle or something. Fuck...am I? I don't know but I'm getting the fuck out of here. I grab the IV in my arm and jerk it out. They start trying to stop me. And naturally I start fighting them. I feel all my energy coming back and just forced into me with this huge whoosh! I rip the oxygen from my face. A doctor tries stopping me and i punch him in the rips. I hear a crack and shove him to the floor. I get up out of that bed and just stare at them. They stand back carefully like I'm a lion or something.
"Sir I need you to get back in the bed," says a nurse reaching for my arm.
"No," I jerk away, "I'm outta here." And I start walking. I'm barefoot, shirtless but i seem to still have my pants. Fuck it, I've escaped in less.
"Sir you shouldn't leave," a doctor says, "you aren't well."
I just huff to myself, like this is a fucking news flash. If that guy only knew. I'm sure he would change him mind about wanting to help me. I shove open the front doors and walk out of that motherfucker. I still need to find Izzy. I go into the parking garage. I'm not sure if I'm hiding, looking for a car to jack, or just someone friendly to take me home. What I find is two crying chicks in a Toyota. They see me and look at me like I'm a fucking ghost.
"Hey, what's up?" I ask scratching my head and moving my hair out of my face.
"Oh my god the radio said you were dead!" They start going on. They seem pretty shocked to find out I'm still alive.
"I'm pretty sure I have at least three lives left," I smirk, "Say, can you guys give me a lift?" Like they'll say no. So they assess whether or not I'm a ghost. And naturally they don't tell me no and I find myself folded up in a back seat obviously designed for a toddler sized person. They drive me back to Van Nyes and my ass feels every last bump. This car is such a piece of shit! Don't these chicks know the shocks are gone? But I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to end up on the road. This particular seedy neighborhood is like the dark side of the fucking moon.
Then I hear my name on the radio. It's really strange hearing you're dead when you're not. At the same time, fuck it, records sales will go up now. I know it's a serious thing, but I just can't help but see the humor in it. Everybody thinks I'm dead! Now's the time to rob a bank or murder someone. I couldn't have done it, I'm dead. Wow, I wonder if anyone I know is worried? My answering machine has probably blown up with messages.
So I get back to my house. I race to my answering machine to see if anyone's called. Not one call. To some degree I understand that, but I'm still a bit pissed and hurt by it. Not one person cares enough to just call, even if they just get a machine. I quickly press the button to record a new message. "Hey, this is Nikki, sorry I can't come to the phone right now cuz I'm dead." I stare long and hard at my phone wishing it would just ring and be Izzy on the other end, but it doesn't happen.
I knew where Izzy was. I'm not a fucking fool. I go upstairs to my bedroom. You'd think that a guy who just died might want a shower first. No. Maybe I could use a good rest. Yeah, but I don't go to sleep. I go into my closet. My dope cornucopia. You're probably thinking to yourself that this probably isn't the best move to be making. And you're probably right. Yet something just wills me in. The pain in my heart maybe, both literally and figuratively. Yeah they stabbed me in the heart, but so did Izzy and that hurts more. I knew that wherever he was he was with Axl. I shoot the biggest load of my life. Maybe it'll kill me, maybe it won't. Right now I just don't fucking care.
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