FicWad

Duff

It was time for us to return to LA.We were supposed to start working on a new album. I wish we didn't have to leave. It's been so peaceful down here. And as appealing as it sounds to become Mexican, we can't. We couldn't let the guys down like that. We left without saying anything to them. They might be worrying about us. They might hink fucking Sixx has us. They may think we're dead. Hopefully they haven't reported us missing or anything. I know how much they hate involving cops.

So we packed up the Vette which was overflowing with fucking shit we'd bought down here. A Corvette isn't made for ccargo. Like not at all. We started the long journey back to southern California. As much as I loved it down here I am looking forward to a radio station that plays a language I understand. I was a little tired of that authentic Mexican music. Now that I've rested, I'm ready to make some music.

I glance down at the gas Gage and it's almost empty. I should have gassed up before we left. Down here you might go two hours without seeing a gas station. I sure hope we make it to one. We are in the middle of a desert, and there's absolutely nothing for miles and miles. But I keep driving. I don't want to worry Slash if I don't have to. But I can't help but feel like we're gonna run out of gas out here in the desert. Thank God it's January and not summer time. January here feels more like spring. If it were summer we'd be dead withing half an hour out here.

So I drive. I must look at the gas Gage every two seconds. It's like I was waiting for it to flip me off, "Fuck you McKagan!" Eventually the warning light comes on showing a little gas pump. Yeah, I know. Where the fuck is the next gas station? But I never see one. I just keep driving until the Vette starts to hiccup. Slash looks at me wondering if we're breaking down. Then the engine dies and the car rolls to a stop.

"What's wrong?" Slash asks me.

"Um... we're kinda out of gas," I say still gripping the wheel like I might be able to will this motherfucker to keep going. But that ain't happening.

"What the hell do you mean?" He looks at me with great concern.

"I mean we have no gas. I guess we'll have to walk to the next gas station?" I shrug.

"That might be a hundred miles in every direction! How did you let us run out of gas?" He leans over me and taps the gas Gage. I guess he's hoping it broken. But if that were the case that would mean we had a much worse problem. I'll take out of gas any day.

"Well maybe somebody will pass us and give us a lift. If we can hitchhike to Seattle then surely we can get a ride to a gas station." Surely, right?

"Maybe so, but we can't speak Spanish to ask!" And now he's shouting because he's scared and worried.

"At least the weather is nice," I sigh looking up at the sky.

Slash opens his door and gets out. He grabs his shades off the dashboard and puts them on. He sighs as he shakes his head. He starts walking.

"Wait up Baby Boy,I've gotta put the top up and lock it," I call out to him.

"Oh yeah, wouldn't want all these FUCKING CARS going by to steal anything!" He snaps and keeps walking.

So I lock up the car and have to jog to catch up with Slash. "Sorry about this babe, it was an honest mistake."

He just nods, "Yeah, it's not a big deal. At least it's not too hot. We technically don't have anywhere pressing to be."

"You know, you just might pass as a Mexican," I tell him.

"What's that make you then?"

I chuckle, "Irish or Scottish I guess."

We walk a good while before we hear a vehicle coming. Let's hope they offer us a ride. We both stick out our thumbs when it's in our sights. It doesn't even bother to slow down. A thick trail of dust follows it and fogs the air around us for a few minutes. I look down at my black boots and can see the layer of dust settled on them. My nose is going to get really really dry if this keeps happening.

An entire hour passes before the next vehicle comes along. Slash looks over at me, "Maybe the white Irish/Scottsman should hide and let the Mexican handle this one," he snorts.

Turns out that I probably should have listened to him because this car speeds up to pass us, kicking even more dirt and dust all over us. Maybe Mexicans don't hitch hike. There sure as hell isn't anyone offering us a ride. Maybe it's the way we look, that had been a factor when we were trying to hitchhike to Seattle.

I look at Slash, "Right about now I'd drink your piss if it came out 80 proof and cold."

"No you wouldn't cuz I'd beat you to it."

"Too bad we don't know how to make tequila out of Agave plants, they're fucking everywhere," I note.

"But you don't drink tequila," he says.

"No, but I don't see anything to make Vodka with."

"Did you leave the dope in the car?" He asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because all this walking is making me sweat out my last fix. God knows how long we'll be out here."

I try not to smile because I have one of his rigs in my boot for emergencies. But I won't tell him. If he knew I had it he would want it, and if something happens and he really needs it it won't be there. Now the sun is directly overhead. It's hard to tell which way is East and Which way west is. Not that it fucking matters cuz we're headed North. Slash kicks a larger rock. He takes a few steps to catch up with it and kicks it again.

"Duff, I don't think Mexico likes us. Every time we come here some shit happens."

I quirk my eyebrows, "Hadn't thought of that. It does doesn't it?"

"I totally vote we take our next vacation in Key West or the Bahamas."

"Sure you don't want to go to Lynchburg, Tennessee?"

He gives me a strange look, "Why the hell would I want to go to Tennessee?"

"Because that's where the Jack Daniels Distillery is."

"No shit?" He asks seeming to be pretty interested now. "Well fuck yeah, we gotta go there."

"Ok, we'll go, but right after that we're going to Russia for Vodka."

"If we ever make it out of fucking Mexico," Slash sighs. "You are so fired from driving."

I look up hearing a vehicle coming from behind us in the distance. "Show them your dick," I tell Slash, "Maybe they'll stop."

"Nah, wouldn't want them to wreck." He sticks his thumb out and I do the same.

Thank God they start slowing down. They pull up next to us. "Hola," a guy says to us. "Yo habla Espanola?"

"No, we're American," I say.

"Americanos. You lost?"

Thank God he speaks English. "Yeah, we ran out of gas a while back. Could you give us a lift to the nearest gas station?"

"Yeah, sure, get in."

I get in first because it's a truck and I know Slash would feel more safe by the window. The guy starts making small talk. "You vacation?"

"Yeah, we were down south. We're just going back to LA."

"Ah, go Raiders. You like to party?"

"Fuck yeah," Slash says and sits up to look at the guy.

He reaches over to the glove box and starts to open it. I half expected him to be reaching for a gun. So I'm pretty happy when he pulls out a bag of pills. "What are those? Speed?" I ask because they looked like Black mollies.

"No no, better. Make you happy and want to make amore. You take," he says shoving them to me.

"How much?" I ask because nobody just gives drugs away.

"No dinero. Gift. Take to America."

I look at Slash and he just shrugs at me. Im always up for a new drug experience. If i dont like them I'll just give them to Izzy to sell off. So I take them, there had to be at least five hundred pills here. Then there was what was left of the smack and coke back at the car. How the fuck was I going to stick all this up my ass?

We ride for probably forty five minutes until I notice a lone gas station in the middle of nowhere. We have to buy a two gas cans and fill them and even that might not be enough gas to get us back here. Fortunately the guy who gave us a ride takes us all the way back to the car. We thank him and he leaves. I have to make a fucking funnel out of an oil container but I manage to get the gas in the tank. Then we drive back to the gas station and fill up. I mean full too, I fill it until it overflows. We'll be getting high off gas fumes for an hour.

We get back to LA around noon the next day. We find that our apartment has thousands of things taped and pinned to it. It looks like a fucking shrine or something. Damn, do they think we're fucking dead?? Turns out it's fan mail. What a nice welcome back home. We go inside, throw our luggage aside and I start making phone calls to let the guys know we're home. Slash thumbs through our mail.

Something has Axl's feathers ruffled because he seems very irritable and short when I talk to him. I wonder to myself what Izzy could have done to piss him off today? That tends to usually be the number one thing that pisses him off. Anyway Axl demands that we come straight over and to pick up Steven on our way. I look at the bag of pills from that Mexican guy. I think this would be a perfect occasion to spike Axl's drink. Maybe the pills will put him in a more compromising mood.

So we stop by Stevie's place and pick him up. He's not as bubbly as he normally is. No he's high as fuck. It takes him five minutes of turtle speeds to in. I already know Axls gonna be pretty fucking pissed about it too. Slash just gives me a worried look. "We can't show up with him like this. We've gotta give him some coke."

I couldn't agree more so I pull out a bindle. I tap some out on the dashboard and roll up a bill.

"Popcorn," Slash shakes him, " do this line man."

Steven doesn't say anything. He just takes the bill and funbles with it like he doesn't have a fucking clue what it's for.

"This isn't gonna work," I shake my head. "We've gotta shoot him up if we're gonna get it in him. I reach into my boot and pull out an empty syringe.

Slash mixes it up then passes me the needle. He grabs Stevise arm and squeezes his bicep as I hunt a vein. As I'm doing it I find track marks. They're not quite as bad as Izzy's, but they're worse than Slashs. I shoot steven up and he starts coming around pretty fast. "You ok buddy?" I ask him.

just nods, "Yeah, let's go."

Slash gives me one final worry then goes back to his Vette and we continue on over to Axl's place. The coke kicks in even more on Steven and he starts to talk my fucking ear off about his New Year's was. He never bother to ask how mine and Slash went. I don't think he even knows we left town.