"Razorblade Catheter" belongs to Regurgitation. None of the bands
mentioned in this chapter are my creation-they are ALL real,as
is Last Days Of Humanity,in the other chapter. The Phantasy is also
real,as is Lakewood,Ohio. Any sarcasm herein is out of love. I put myself in this chapter,but tried to avoid any Mary Sueisms. Jim is real,as is Steve Makita.
"Y'better shop before ya get dropped."
-Schnauzer,"The Franchise Freak"
9.
Lakewood,Ohio
1:15 AM
Apparently,the band onstage went by the name Regurgitation.
Smoke hung in the air; some of it was from Nunslaughter's fog machine. The vapors clung to everything,even the walls. Voldemort had apparently missed their set. He would probably never hear "Bring Me The Head Of God" now. He hadn't caught the names of the first two bands.
"...there's nothing in the world like making love to a beautiful
woman...ESPECIALLY AFTER SHE'S DEAD!"
Well,Voldemort thought,that's certainly a sudden contextual shift.
"We call this one...'CADAVERIC...IMPREGNAAAAAATION'..."
"Did they play 'Razorblade' yet?" someone asked him. Actually,they
had to yell it over the noise.
"I'm sorry?"
The stick-thin young man blended in with the darkness of the club. He wore a hooded sweatshirt with the word BRODEQUIN emblazoned on the front. Voldemort couldn't help thinking that all the good band names had to be gone if musicians were naming their groups after Medieval
torture devices.
"Dude,'Razorblade Catheter.'"
"I just got here," Voldemort said.
The kid nodded and wandered away.
Voldemort had wandered into the place-the Phantasy Niteclub-on a whim; there was a concert going on. The man screaming into the microphone for Regurgitation had promised that this would be their
last song. A crowd had filtered in,and they were all talking about
a band called Schnauzer. Apparently,they were local favorites.
Regurgitation eventually wound down and stopped playing.
Voldemort wandered through the sea of people; some of them were wearing costumes; some of them wore black leather bondage gear.
He supposed there were no taboos in this place. He walked by the
pirate ship-that's right,a life-size pirate ship that looked as if
it had once been seaworthy. It sheltered the soundbooth and split
the dark club into several zones.
In the back,a merchandise table had been set up. People milled
around it; Voldemort noticed the drummer from Nunslaughter. His
name was Jim Sadist. He was well-built, his hair set back
in a ponytail. He wore orange jeans and a shirt equipped with a
dangling eyeball. Above that it read LOOKING GOOD. He wore squarish
metal eyeglasses. He did a double take when he saw Voldemort.
"Interesting," he said.
"You find me interesting?" Voldemort asked.
"Going out on Halloween dressed like John Wayne Gacy, I mean."
He tried to remember the name.
"I don't remember him," Voldemort said. "Listen,how many bands-"
"...am I in right now?" he finished. "Schnauzer...Minch...Nunslaughter.Spawn Of Satan. All That Is Evil. Nine Shocks Terror...Scarver's Calling-"
"Scarver?"
"Christopher Scarver. The guy who killed Jeffrey Dahmer."
"I remember that name," Voldemort smiled.
"I'm also in...WATCHMAN!"
He looked towards the stairs.
"Hey,Jim," Watchman said.
Watchman looked like what would result if Harry Potter were
rolled into Rubeus Hagrid. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. He wasn't
especially tall,but his shoulders and chest were distractingly big.
He wore raggedy sweatpants. The front of his shirt was dominated by a dog. A schnauzer. The word SCHNAUZER was embossed across the top in a crazy,nearly incomprehensible script. Very bohemian.
"Ed,man,we were worried you wouldn't get here."
"You know I wouldn't miss this," he smiled. "I worked till six. Then
I slept for awhile so I wouldn't fall asleep here-"
"Your narcolepsy,right-"
"Sleep apnea. Not narcolepsy. Either way,I have a sleep disorder that freaks people out. I woke up,ate supper-have you heard the Foetopsy
CD yet?"
"Not yet. Are you playing it Monday?"
"On the show," Ed looked at Voldemort. "I have a radio show. My name's Ed." He shook Voldemort's hand.
"Riddle. Tom Riddle."
"So I watched BEAUTY AND THE BEAST until the cab came."
"BEAUTY AND THE BEAST?" Voldemort laughed.
"Did I say something funny?"
"I wouldn't expect someone who loves this...music,if you can call it
that...to be into a film like BEAUTY AND THE BEAST."
"Well,sir,first,it is music and I find it as beautiful as Bach or Handel. Second,I have seen BEAUTY AND THE BEAST three hundred and ninety-four times. So if you have something bad to say about it,
come on outside and we'll...have a discussion."
"Later," Voldemort said. "I must get back to tricks-or-treats."
He walked down the stairs,and out of the place.
"I think you hurt his feelings," Jim said to Ed.
"Eh," Ed said. Jim shrugged his shoulders.
Voldemort reached the corner of West 117th and Detroit and tried to
pick a direction. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice all
the people following him until one of them said "Excuse me,sir?"
Voldemort turned.
"I heard you talking to Jim,and I have a question that needs answering." The man before him had no hair at all; he had no eyebrows
or eyelashes; if he remembered correctly,the condition was called
alopecia. He wore black jeans and a t-shirt that read CADAVER REMOVAL
TECHNICIAN.
"I'll help you,if I can."
"Jeffrey Dahmer," the guy said. "You know the things he did,right?"
"I've heard. Grisly." And brilliant,he thought. For a moment,he
wondered if Dahmer could have made it as a Death Eater.
"See...there was this local band called Apartment 213. The vocalist
was a guy called Steve Makita. It was his brand of drill that Dahmer
used,trying to turn his victims into personal slaves. I know Steve
Makita. Does that make me evil by association?"
"Interesting quandary," Voldemort said. He looked back towards the
Phantasy.
"That place is haunted,you know."
"Really," Voldemort said,interested.
"Oh yeah,the whole complex. Brian-he's the vocalist for Regurgitation-he owns Extreme Musick over there-it tried to kill him. They called a bunch of psychic investigators-"
He droned on and on until Voldemort couldn't take any more. At
this rate he would never get any candy. He wondered how many people
were still giving anything out at one-thirty in the morning. He had
to get away from this guy and there was only one way to do so.
Voldemort took out his wand and pointed it at the boy. The kid
heard 'sanguine'' and the other word was lost in the sudden ejection
of brain matter through his ears. Dead,he fell to the pavement.
Satisfied that there were no witnesses,Voldemort made his way down
West 117th,reaching Madison Avenue before he realized it was only 9:30 on the West Coast.
mentioned in this chapter are my creation-they are ALL real,as
is Last Days Of Humanity,in the other chapter. The Phantasy is also
real,as is Lakewood,Ohio. Any sarcasm herein is out of love. I put myself in this chapter,but tried to avoid any Mary Sueisms. Jim is real,as is Steve Makita.
"Y'better shop before ya get dropped."
-Schnauzer,"The Franchise Freak"
9.
Lakewood,Ohio
1:15 AM
Apparently,the band onstage went by the name Regurgitation.
Smoke hung in the air; some of it was from Nunslaughter's fog machine. The vapors clung to everything,even the walls. Voldemort had apparently missed their set. He would probably never hear "Bring Me The Head Of God" now. He hadn't caught the names of the first two bands.
"...there's nothing in the world like making love to a beautiful
woman...ESPECIALLY AFTER SHE'S DEAD!"
Well,Voldemort thought,that's certainly a sudden contextual shift.
"We call this one...'CADAVERIC...IMPREGNAAAAAATION'..."
"Did they play 'Razorblade' yet?" someone asked him. Actually,they
had to yell it over the noise.
"I'm sorry?"
The stick-thin young man blended in with the darkness of the club. He wore a hooded sweatshirt with the word BRODEQUIN emblazoned on the front. Voldemort couldn't help thinking that all the good band names had to be gone if musicians were naming their groups after Medieval
torture devices.
"Dude,'Razorblade Catheter.'"
"I just got here," Voldemort said.
The kid nodded and wandered away.
Voldemort had wandered into the place-the Phantasy Niteclub-on a whim; there was a concert going on. The man screaming into the microphone for Regurgitation had promised that this would be their
last song. A crowd had filtered in,and they were all talking about
a band called Schnauzer. Apparently,they were local favorites.
Regurgitation eventually wound down and stopped playing.
Voldemort wandered through the sea of people; some of them were wearing costumes; some of them wore black leather bondage gear.
He supposed there were no taboos in this place. He walked by the
pirate ship-that's right,a life-size pirate ship that looked as if
it had once been seaworthy. It sheltered the soundbooth and split
the dark club into several zones.
In the back,a merchandise table had been set up. People milled
around it; Voldemort noticed the drummer from Nunslaughter. His
name was Jim Sadist. He was well-built, his hair set back
in a ponytail. He wore orange jeans and a shirt equipped with a
dangling eyeball. Above that it read LOOKING GOOD. He wore squarish
metal eyeglasses. He did a double take when he saw Voldemort.
"Interesting," he said.
"You find me interesting?" Voldemort asked.
"Going out on Halloween dressed like John Wayne Gacy, I mean."
He tried to remember the name.
"I don't remember him," Voldemort said. "Listen,how many bands-"
"...am I in right now?" he finished. "Schnauzer...Minch...Nunslaughter.Spawn Of Satan. All That Is Evil. Nine Shocks Terror...Scarver's Calling-"
"Scarver?"
"Christopher Scarver. The guy who killed Jeffrey Dahmer."
"I remember that name," Voldemort smiled.
"I'm also in...WATCHMAN!"
He looked towards the stairs.
"Hey,Jim," Watchman said.
Watchman looked like what would result if Harry Potter were
rolled into Rubeus Hagrid. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. He wasn't
especially tall,but his shoulders and chest were distractingly big.
He wore raggedy sweatpants. The front of his shirt was dominated by a dog. A schnauzer. The word SCHNAUZER was embossed across the top in a crazy,nearly incomprehensible script. Very bohemian.
"Ed,man,we were worried you wouldn't get here."
"You know I wouldn't miss this," he smiled. "I worked till six. Then
I slept for awhile so I wouldn't fall asleep here-"
"Your narcolepsy,right-"
"Sleep apnea. Not narcolepsy. Either way,I have a sleep disorder that freaks people out. I woke up,ate supper-have you heard the Foetopsy
CD yet?"
"Not yet. Are you playing it Monday?"
"On the show," Ed looked at Voldemort. "I have a radio show. My name's Ed." He shook Voldemort's hand.
"Riddle. Tom Riddle."
"So I watched BEAUTY AND THE BEAST until the cab came."
"BEAUTY AND THE BEAST?" Voldemort laughed.
"Did I say something funny?"
"I wouldn't expect someone who loves this...music,if you can call it
that...to be into a film like BEAUTY AND THE BEAST."
"Well,sir,first,it is music and I find it as beautiful as Bach or Handel. Second,I have seen BEAUTY AND THE BEAST three hundred and ninety-four times. So if you have something bad to say about it,
come on outside and we'll...have a discussion."
"Later," Voldemort said. "I must get back to tricks-or-treats."
He walked down the stairs,and out of the place.
"I think you hurt his feelings," Jim said to Ed.
"Eh," Ed said. Jim shrugged his shoulders.
Voldemort reached the corner of West 117th and Detroit and tried to
pick a direction. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice all
the people following him until one of them said "Excuse me,sir?"
Voldemort turned.
"I heard you talking to Jim,and I have a question that needs answering." The man before him had no hair at all; he had no eyebrows
or eyelashes; if he remembered correctly,the condition was called
alopecia. He wore black jeans and a t-shirt that read CADAVER REMOVAL
TECHNICIAN.
"I'll help you,if I can."
"Jeffrey Dahmer," the guy said. "You know the things he did,right?"
"I've heard. Grisly." And brilliant,he thought. For a moment,he
wondered if Dahmer could have made it as a Death Eater.
"See...there was this local band called Apartment 213. The vocalist
was a guy called Steve Makita. It was his brand of drill that Dahmer
used,trying to turn his victims into personal slaves. I know Steve
Makita. Does that make me evil by association?"
"Interesting quandary," Voldemort said. He looked back towards the
Phantasy.
"That place is haunted,you know."
"Really," Voldemort said,interested.
"Oh yeah,the whole complex. Brian-he's the vocalist for Regurgitation-he owns Extreme Musick over there-it tried to kill him. They called a bunch of psychic investigators-"
He droned on and on until Voldemort couldn't take any more. At
this rate he would never get any candy. He wondered how many people
were still giving anything out at one-thirty in the morning. He had
to get away from this guy and there was only one way to do so.
Voldemort took out his wand and pointed it at the boy. The kid
heard 'sanguine'' and the other word was lost in the sudden ejection
of brain matter through his ears. Dead,he fell to the pavement.
Satisfied that there were no witnesses,Voldemort made his way down
West 117th,reaching Madison Avenue before he realized it was only 9:30 on the West Coast.