So Beautiful and Wild

by MichellePomPom

After "The Flesh Curtains" met their astonishing performance peak, Rick is faced with a person from his past, someone that will tornment him more than Rick could ever expect. Two worlds colliding, two stories that are more than they seem to be, one strange relationship based on drugs, violence and pyshical and emotional abuse that has to get over many barriers.

1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

She never took the train alone,

She hated being on her own,

She always took me by the hills,

And say she needs me.

(...)

So beautiful and wild... So beuatiful and wild...

- Reamon - "Tonight"

'THE FLESH CURTAINS! GOODNIGHT NEW JERSEY!'

The lights went on and off as the hardcore tunes stopped and were replaced by some elevator-type music. That's a peculiar way to end a concert, but that's how the flesh curtains did it. They were the new sensation and whatever they did seemed perfect. Screaming fans, bras and panties thrown on the stage, even insulin-charged pens could be seen on the stage after just one song. Fans are crazy, that's for sure. But the band were not bothered by that.

'Let's see the LOOT BITCHEEES!' screamed the guitarist and main-vocalist inside the dressing room. 'Let's see what those bi-booorp-bitches got us this time!'

'I have personally checked them. 14 pairs of panties, 8 bras, 11 teddybears, a lot of flowers' the man with both wings and arms pointed to a huge bucket full of flowers 'and some other things that I am not sure where to categorise them.'

'A-ARRRRR-and alcohol?' burped the vocalist.

'You have a bottle in your hands.' Bird-Person said.

'Nah, that's just some-buuuuuurp-some beer with cocaine. This shit ain't strong enough to make this bi-biiiiirrrrrghhh-bitch tipsy.'

'I am not familiar with lifestyle on Earth but I am pretty sure that that still categorises as alcohol.'

'Suck a di-diiiiiick man.'

'In bird culture, that is considered a dick move.'

'Whatever. I'm gonna go take a shit.'

Just as he wanted to get up, a cat-like creature entered the dressing room. He was walking on two legs, looking rather trashed.

'WHADDUP SQUANCHIEEEEEE!' the vocalist yelled.

'Hey Rick! Hey Bird-Person! Whad'ya doing?'

'Just some –buuuuurp-some loot checking'

'NICE! What kind of squanch do we have here?'

'Nothing good.'

'No alcohol?'

'Just beer a-aaaand cocaine.'

'That's weak man! Ain't nobody gonna get squanched by that squanch!'

'Told ya.' said Rick while shoving the green bottle in Bird-Person's face.

'I have to learn more about the Earth.'

'Where were you Squanchie?'

'Just squanching some chicks in the backstage. Sqanched them a really good squanch.'

'Niiiiiiiceeeeee!'

Rick and Squanchie high-fived each other just as a member of the guard staff peeked his head inside the dressing room.

'Rick Sanchez?'

'Whadd'ya want?'

'Some fan wants to meet you.

'Tell th-thaaaaaaaat bitch you can't be here for meet-and-greet without a bracelet.'

'But he says he knows you.'

'All of them do apparently.'

Right behind the guard, a tall, muscular man with a mullet-like haircut was trying to get past the guards.

'RICK YOU SON OF A BITCH YOU BETTER LET ME IN OR ELSE I'M GONNA TELL THE MEDIA ABOUT THE PIRATES THING!'

Just as he finished listening to those words, Rick got up from the couch and made his way to the door. He pushed the guard away and looked outside. The man with the mullet haircut was battling some of the security staff, punching one of them right in the left cheek. He was a really solid man, really muscular and had a little beer-belly. However, he was wearing a shirt that was obviously a little too thight at the chest and somewhat too loose at the bottom, that clearly has seen better days in its life, with the words "The Flesh Curtains" written on it.

Rick looked at the man, and made the first guard a sign with the finger that meant it was time for the security staff to back the fuck off.

'Sup you fucker. Got here for another round of Sanchez a-aaaaaass?'

'I like my balls in the state they are now thanks.'

'I'm not sure you under-staaaaaand how much of a little bitch you are for coming here.'

'The last time I checked you were the one that got a dick inside you so you should re-think who the bitch is.'

'Wow! So many big words here! Did you get accepted to your brotheer's stupid sch-oool too?'

At that point, the man with the mullet lifted his fist, and with a fast swing he punched Rick in the face. Baffled and still tipsy, Rick swung around for 1-2 meters and covered his cheek with his hand.

'Deserved it.' he admitted.

'Fucker.'

'So I'm taking a wild guess here. You are not here to punch me in the face, right?' said Rick sobering up.

'No... I am here for...'

'Money, right?'

'How did you know?'

'I didn't think you missed me too much and the only thing that made me remotely think that your worthless piece of ass would come to the concert's dressing room would be to borrow money for your strange good-to-nothing "bussinesses" and your bath salts addiction.'

'Look – just one grand! I swear this is the last time- '

'Whoa-whoa-whoa – Stanley. I thought you were smarter than begging for money from me.'

'Fuck you.'

Rick reached out to the back-pocket of his skinny leather pants and grabbed a stack of pack dollars. He counted them. 1000$. He took the stack of money and flauted it in front of the man who looked really annoyed by that. He was clearly not having it and was not going to accept this kind of behaviour.

'Suck a dick Rick.'

'Oh you upsetty? Ye you little weeny bitch? You want some of these bucks?'

'You really like to kill me from inside don't you?'

'I bet you'd like to suck my dick for this stack of money, don't ya you little prick?'

'Come on Rick cut the crap just tell me what I have to do to get that fucking stack of fucking money.'

'You know, there are a few things that will make me give you this. And I think you know what I mean.'

'I told you I'm not going to do this again. I have a girlfriend.'

'Had. You HAD a girlfriend. Don't lie to me Pines I know what you've been up to lately.'

'Are you STALKING ME?'

'It's not stalking. It's "investigating for personal interests"'

'That's still stalking.'

'Whatever you say Stanley. The fact is that none of the things that you think matter matter. So you can continue being a little bitch and give up forever on your hopes and dreams that will make your time on Earth look like mattered for a while or you just suck my dick and continue making shadow to the ground in what seems like a little help to the economy.'

'Damn.'

'So?' and Rick pulled out of his pants, or maybe said, underpants, a lighter and opened it, revealing golden flames.

As the flames started approaching the stack of money, Stanley knew that Rick wasn't messing around. He was the smartest man in the universe ( whatever that meant ) and knew that at this point in his life he was the only financial support available without involving fiscal evasion or prostitution. Not like he didn't do those already, but let's just say the law enforcement wasn't really on his side during this time of his life.

And although he knew that this stack wasn't the only one that Rick had, the actual burning of 1000$ for him was more like a metaphor. It meant that if he decided not to accept his offer, Rick would never give him a single coin again. And at this point in his life... this was NOT an option. The lighter was getting closer and closer so he had to make a decision fast.

'Fine. But only this one last time.'

'That's what you said the last four times.'

'Fuck off. Where?'

'At the Telegraph Hotel. Ask for Sanchez and say you deliver the special a beer bottle and wear a cat collar with a bell attached on it. Also, bring some cocaine too. You still have some right?'

'Don't you have your own?'

'I miss cheap ass cocaine like peasants.'

'Did you just call me a peasant?'

'I did.' and Rick lit himself a cigarette.

'That's even stranger than the last time.'

'Want money? You'll do it.'

'Fuck me.'

'Later bitch. WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUB!'

'Fuck you too.'

'At 2. Don't forget. I surely won't.'

Rick turned around and got inside the dressing room, closing the door behind him.

There was so much silence inside the dressing room. At first, Rick wanted to ask why, but as he looked at the radio on the nearby table, all he could hear were these things, spoken by a woman with a coarse voice:

'Rick Sanchez – well, not much is known about him. He just kind of appeared around Seattle and from there, the rest of The Flesh Curtains got around too. And then their fame rose to the top. Rick's style and unconventional nihilism made him appear on the cover of "Top Men", and fans, all the genders included, wanted to have him inside their pants. And the thing is, Rick lets them all have it. So obviously, a lot of rumours about his strange sexual prefferences are starting to appear here and there, which makes him more popular.'

Another person, this time a man, continued:

'The truth is, he has some kind of aura that is really attractive to most of the Earth's population. Who could blame them though? His long, messy hair, probably chemically dyed blue, his nonconformist way of dressing up and nonchalance could swing anyone off of their feet.'

'What?' the woman asked.

'N-Nothing... Not that I would know... He...he... Uhm HOWEVER! Something strange is to this character as well. It is rumoured that he does not enjoy showing affection to anyone and anything and being sober is just an unknown concept to him. Despite the manager's efforts to make him at least be sober during the concerts, nothing seems to stop him from at least sniffing some cocaine at the back of the stage.'

The woman continued:

'Not to say that his fellow band members are strange as well. The member that dresses up as a walking cat is really popular among fans as well. And the one in the bird costume is even more popular. But that's besides the point. We were talking about Rick. Basically, he is a strange fellow. But a hot one. Not that I would have an opinion as well... hehehe...'

'Turn that off until it gets to your head.'

'Rick ' said Bird-Person ' are you sure about this Stanley Pines?'

'Why wouldn't I b-beeeeee sure?'

'Rick. I have known you for many years. And never in my life have I ever seen you so tornmented over someone.'

'Yeah, I thought I look like this all the time I – buuuuuurp – take a piss.'

'Are you going to go and meet him?'

Rick did not want to answer so he decided to go to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he approached the mirror, supporting all his weight at the edges of the sink. Looking in the mirror, his eyes were placed upon the dark circles aroud his eyes, then on his hair, which was before slikly groomed, but now messy and frizzy. His stage-makeup was smeared all around the face, and his muscle top torn here and there.

He opened the faucet, took some water and splashed it across his face.

His face and hair wet, water dripping down his neck and chest, made him shiver for a second, as a breeze came from the opened bathroom window. Rick fell on his behind, legs spread on the floor, and with a hand on his face. Flipping around the floor, his other hand soon found a half-empty beer bottle. Though, from the smell of it, it didn't seem like there was only beer inside that bottle. There was certainly more vodka inside that recipient than plain beer.

Not giving much of a fuck, Rick took a strong gulp from the bottle, growled at the taste and let his head fall and hit the door on which his back was supported. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted far away, to the old days. However, whatever he was thinking about, he was not happy remembering it, as he took another gulp fromthe bottle. And another gulp. And another gul. And another. More. And more. Until the bottle was empty.

Having nothing to drink anymore, Rick threw the bottle across the bathroom, which hit the sink and shattered in a dozen pieces ( both the sink and the glass ). Taking his jacket from the bathrom's hanger, he left one more growl before he rose up. He put it on and looked at himself one more time in the mirror.

'Wubba Lubba Dub Dub...'

Inside the main room, the silence was still so thick you could cut it with a knife, until the doorbell rang. Bird-Person got up, walked to the bathroom door and knocked a few times.

'Rick. Pizza has arrived.'

No response.

'Rick?'

The door creaked as it revealed an empty bathroom, full of green glass shards and the window opened.

'Wubba Lubba Dub Dub Rick. Why are you doing this to yourself...?'

...

The air in the street was cold. The breeze giving shivering down the spine was only adding to the blue feeling he had. The cab's wheels schreeching on the asphalt was the only thing that he could hear. Turning around the street, the Telegraph Hotel's sign was shining in the dark corner of that secluded New Jersey area.

'Keep the change.' he said getting outside the car.

As the cab drove off, a new sound could be heard. The unmistakable ring of the hotel doorbell. He looked down to the wrist watch. 1:45 A.M.. The night was still young.