Disclaimer: I don't own Ed, Edd, n' Eddy or any other character from that show, blah, blah, blah, I also get no money from any bands or songs mentioned, all I own is my character, Christian, dribble, dribble, dribble…
I've got yet another long chapter in store for you, so sit back and enjoy the happiness, hilarity, and alcohol consumption for Christian in this somewhat filler chapter! 1,2,3 go!
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Chapter 9:The Day After
Eddy's eyes peeled open very relaxed and slow that morning.
"Damn, what a night!" Eddy yawned.
Just as he thought, his arms were throbbing and sore from the overexertion he put them through the night before. Despite his pulsating arms and the high-pitched ringing in his ears, Eddy still felt…good. After a quick change of clothes and a thorough Aquanet spraying, he strutted confidently downstairs to shove the gig in his father's face.
"Good morning, son." His father mumbled, taking a sip from his coffee mug.
"Mornin' pop!" Eddy replied as he eased himself into a chair.
"You came home pretty late last night," his father stated, "Or should I say pretty early this morning? Don't think I didn't hear you slink in here last night at three AM…"
"Ah yeah, sorry 'bout that dad, I got home late from my gig last night," Eddy said, "Yep. Edtallica had a gig in Canada last night, and our gig didn't end until eleven, then we had to drive for like, four hours to get home from our gig."
"Oh that's right, you had 'gig' didn't you?" his father asked, "how'd that go for you?"
"Pretty good, pop," Eddy bragged while he spread out his wad of twenties on the table, "I got about sixty bucks, not bag for a first gig, huh?"
"That's nice, son." His father said as he reached for his briefcase, "Well I'm off to work. You know, I've got to make real money to put food on the table and a roof over our heads."
"I'll make more money come this Friday!" Eddy called after him, "'Cause me and the boys have another gig at the bar, hear that? We're getting steady exposure!"
The door was slammed shut as his father left for his morning commute to his desk job.
"I've won the bet, old man!" Eddy cried out in vein.
-
Ed let out a loud yawn and scratched his belly as he rolled out of bed. Last night was great! The crowds gave he and his friends a good response and he even made sixty dollars! He was already teeming with excitement for that coming Friday, for Pierre asked them to play at the 5-Hole Tavern every Friday as a standard show.
After bathing, throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, and making his mullet look presentable, Ed moseyed his way up the stairs to the kitchen to get something to eat. He grabbed a few pop-tarts and shoved them into the toaster. He reflected on the great experience his first gig had been until his pastries popped from their chrome-plated oven.
"Mornin' champ!" Ed's dad greeted.
"Hiya dad!" Ed replied.
"How'd the gig go last night, chief?" his dad asked.
"It was awesome!" Ed exclaimed with his mouth full of chocolate pop-tart, "The crowd liked us and I made sixty bucks!"
Ed saw his dad smile and nod. His dad had always supported Ed's music, having been in several bands throughout high school himself. He too, dreamt of becoming a star, but had to give it up when he was Ed's age, when his girlfriend dropped the bombshell and admitted her pregnancy, the result of a wild night after a gig. Nine months later, Ed was born. To help provide a good life for his new wife and son, he got a haircut and applied for a job in radio advertising. It made him somewhat misty-eyed. His son was following in his footsteps…
"Guess what, dad?" Ed asked, taking another bite of toaster pastry.
"What?"
"The tavern owner wants us to play there every Friday night since we did so good last night!" Ed exclaimed.
Ed's dad grinned again. "That's great, Ed."
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"Ye-OUCH!" Edd yelled.
He glanced down at the fingers on his left hand, which were blistered and peeling from all the lightening-quick guitar solos that he played during the gig.
"Well, no pain no gain, I guess…" Edd muttered to himself, "Sure it's only sixty dollars this gig, but the audience'll grow somewhat for the next show, and more audience means more cash."
He chuckled, "Holy hell, I'm starting to sound like Eddy…"The guitarist strolled over to his guitar stand and picked up his Telecaster and gingerly began to play the solo that he threw together for "Apocalypse", trying not to pop the blisters on his fingers. He could hear the drunken cheers of the audience that he, Ed, Eddy, and Christian had captivated inside his head.
He felt at home when he was on the tiny stage in the hockey bar, and he couldn't wait to feel the pre-gig jitters and that rush he got when he played in front of an audience. Back in his "nerdy faze", as Ed and Eddy jokingly referred it, Edd considered taking a career path along the lines of a brain surgeon or possibly a scientist of some sort. After last night, Edd cast those old childish dreams aside for the goal of becoming a rock star, and judging by the gig, that dream would become a reality very soon. Sure, his parents wouldn't approve, but they were never home anyway, what the hell would they care?
This brought another issue before the rocker, where the fuck were his parents!
"They've been gone for over three weeks," Edd pondered aloud, "That's a little long for a business trip, even for them…"
He decided not to worry about it; surely they'd be back soon. Besides, he enjoyed having the house to himself. He could swear aloud, turn his amp up past '7' when he plugged in his guitar, and crank Iron Maiden all he wanted on his stereo while his mindless drones of parents were out. But still, soulless zombies or not, they were his mom and dad, and he was their only son. The least he could do was call.
Edd picked up the phone and dialed the number of the hotel that his parents had given him.
"This is the Phoenix Hilton, how may I help you?"
"Uh, yeah, could you help me? I'm trying to call my parents that're staying in your hotel."
"Certainly sir, what are their names?"
"David and Holly McAllister."
"Ok, just a moment please, I'll check the records," The secretary stated, "It says that they checked out this morning at 10:30, sir, I apologize."
"Ah, no, it's fine," The guitarist replied, "Just calling to see if they were coming home soon's all, thanks anyway."
'Well, can't say I didn't try.' Edd thought as he hung up the phone.
-
17-year-old Christian walked up the steps to the door of his house. He had another long day of rehearsal with Iron Fist. Long, yet rewarding. Craig, or Brother "Coffin" as he was now known, had kept him late, however, and now he had to sneak past the ever-watchful parents again.
The satanic bassist smoothed back his long, black dyed hair and stuck his key into the lock. He slowly opened the door a crack and slipped through to tiptoe up to his room.
"Hello, son…"
Christian, startled, looked up to see his parents standing in front of him, with sullen, angry, looks on their faces.
"Hey dad, hi ma…" Christian nervously breathed.
"You were with them, weren't you?" his mother seethed.
"Uh…no?"
"Don't tell a falsehood, son," his dad, or Pastor Jim, as he was better known at his church said, "You need all the points with God that you can get, best not anger Him further."
"Wha?"
"Look at you, Christian!" his mother screamed, "You're just like your brother… the dyed hair, the makeup, and THIS!"
Christian was shocked as his mother yanked off his pentagram necklace and waved it in his face as if he were Satan himself.
"C'mon ma, it's a gimmick! You think I actually go around saying 'I am Brother Christian'? And besides, Pentagrams aren't even satanic, they're pagan!"
"WE DON'T CARE!" his father bellowed.
"We want you out of here, Christian…" his mother said with tears choking up her voice.
"What're you?"
"Here, we've packed your bags, Lucifer!" his dad seethed, dropping a brown leather suitcase at his feet.
Christian felt numb. He looked into his parents' eyes, his father's were cold and angry and his mother's were full of tears of shame. He snorted angrily, picked up the suitcase, and walked out the door.
"Ah!" Christian yelped.
The bassist took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.
"Why do I keep having that dream?" Christian asked himself, "I got kicked out of Iron Fist almost a month ago, I've patched things up with Ma and Dad, and I had a good long gig with the Eds last night, I should've had a long, dreamless, boring as a Kenny G concert sleep!"
The Canadian shrugged and rolled out of bed to get dressed. Then he'd have to find something to do with himself. After he threw on a Voivod t-shirt and some ripped up black jeans, Christian walked to his mini-fridge to get his morning beer.
Suddenly as he was popping of the cap, his phone let out its raspy ring.
"H'lo?"
"Hello Christian…" a deep scary voice greeted.
"Oh hi Mrs. Spielman! I'll bring the monthly rent down to you in about an hour, sorry it's late, I've been busy with my new band, y'know."
The voice growled, "It's me, Brother Coffin, you know, your brother, Craig? The one that kicked you out of the band a month ago?"
"Oh," Christian muttered, his voice getting colder, "What the hell do you want?"
"We heard about your little show last night," Coffin cackled, "The 5-Hole, eh? Very impressive…"
"I know it's not 'Ronny Rude's' caliber," Christian yelled, "But I'm smarter than some people give me credit for, Craig… I knew that Iron Fist would never go to anywhere in Canada, so I picked my favorite bar. We raked in some serious cash, too."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure to you and that fledgling band you joined, sixty dollars Canadian is a lot of money. You may have gotten an unknown location, but you'll never beat us in 'Mosh Rock'…"
"Mosh Rock?"
"Come now, Brother Christian… Surely you know about Mosh Rock, the battle of the bands that gets local news attention. The winner this year gets a sponsor, maybe you'd like to enter…"
"As a matter of fact I would!"
"Very well, the event's on your turf next month, it's only right…"
"Only right that we win it! I'll see you in a month!" Christian exclaimed, "Now good day to you, sir!"
"Goodbye Brother Christian…"
"I said good day!" Christian yelled as he hung up.
"I think that went very well!" Christian assured himself.
He'd have to tell the guys about Mosh Rock, but he could do that later, now he wanted beer… As Christian rooted through his cabinets for a bottle opener, his phone rang again. Reluctantly, he set his beer down on the table and said a few swears as he picked up the phone again.
"Yeah?"
"Christian? It's me, Eddy. Are you doin' anything today?"
"Actually yeah," The Canuck joked in a girly voice, "I was going to just curl up on my uncomfortable couch, have a lite beer, take the Cosmo quiz, and watch The Ashlee Simpson Show…"
"Pfft. Knock it off Christian, you're scarin' me!" Eddy exclaimed, "But seriously, you wanna come down? Me and the boys are getting together at my place while my parents are at work."
"Yeah, sure. I'll be down there as quick as I can, I'm not really doing anything. I wasn't kidding about the beer, though."
"Just steal one of my dad's, he won't care."
"Ok, I'll see you down there, bye."
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The Eds lazily plopped themselves into lawn chairs on the deck in Eddy's backyard.
"Sodas, guys?" Eddy asked, pulling out three bottles of root beer from the cooler next to him.
"Christian should be down here pretty soon, I called him over two hours ago," Eddy continued.
"Good day, Eds!" a familiar voice greeted.
"Hiya, Christian!" Ed said.
Christian opened his mouth to speak again, but Eddy cut him off before he could.
"Your beer's in the cooler, Christian…" Eddy sighed, rolling his eyes.
The Canuck grinned and nodded at his friend appreciatively. He popped off the cap and took a swig from the bottle.
"So uh… What're we gonna do?" Christian asked Eddy.
"I dunno, wanna go shove the gig in people's faces?" Eddy suggested.
"Yeah, that sounds good enough." Christian replied, "That Kevin dude flipped me the bird last night, so I think I'd like to go and get an apology."
"You're gonna whip Kevin's ass, aren't ya, Christian?" Ed asked excitedly.
"Yeah, but I was putting it nicely," Christian replied, "Let's go."
So with their beverages (alcoholic or otherwise) still in hand, Edtallica took to the streets of the cul-de-sac.
"Hey guys, great show last night!" Jimmy complimented, walking towards them.
"Thanks, little dude!" Christian replied.
They let Jimmy join them in their random strut down the cul-de-sac. As they walked with their metal heads held high, they came across their detractors.
"Hey, check it out, it's Kevin!" Eddy muttered to the others, "Pfft… is he fixing Nazz's car? God, he's so whipped!"
"He's gonna get whipped again in a couple minutes," Christian seethed, "Follow my lead there, boys."
The Eds and Jimmy watched as Christian slowly wandered towards the redheaded grease monkey. As they followed, Christian took a few swigs from his beer bottle and started to sing the first verse from "Helpless", the Diamond Head song that they started off the gig with. Eddy walked faster to catch up with his Canadian friend; he didn't want to miss this.
"Hey, Kev!" Eddy greeted casually.
Kevin looked up from his work and snarled, "What do you dorks want?"
"Hey, hey, easy there, tough guy!" Eddy replied, "We just wanted to know whether you and your mistress- I mean Nazz enjoyed our show last night."
Kevin grunted again and sneered, "I bet you think you guys think you're pretty hot shit, don't you?"
"Correction there, jackass," Christian interjected, taking another swig, "We don't think we're hot shit, we know we're hot shit!"
Kevin glared at Christian. He opened his mouth to speak, but Eddy interrupted.
"Oh sorry 'bout that Kevin, this is Christian. He's the guy that sings in our band." Eddy said, nodding towards his friend.
The angered mechanic spat on Christian's shoes and leered at the band.
"I can't believe you dorks hired this wannabe to sing for you," Kevin muttered, "If you hired Nazz, you'd have gotten a gig at someplace good, not some shit-hole Canadian hockey bar…"
"Heeeeey," Ed said, "The 5-Hole's not a shit-hole, it's cool! And they have the best little curly fries ever…"
As Ed spiraled into a random rambling about the 5-Hole's curly fries, the conversation continued.
"You don't get it, do ya?" Eddy sighed, "You see, we had to hire Christian, Kev-O. You see, if we didn't, we'd be damned to the position of that Ashlee Simpson wannabe's backup band, and we didn't want that, being a heavy metal band as we are."
"We'd be turned teen-pop like that!" Christian added, snapping his fingers.
"So you see," Eddy concluded, "picking Christian as the singer balances out the heavy metal universe."
"Hey Kevin?" A bubbly voice called from the garage.
Christian winked at Eddy and pretended to be slightly sloshed.
"A-ha! Speak of the bitch, there she is! Hey, what menial chore do you have for yer man-slave now?" Christian slurred.
Edtallica and their new biggest fan cackled heartily as Kevin ignored Christian's drunken remark.
"Yeah Nazz?" Kevin responded.
Nazz walked out of the garage towards Kevin. She gave her "man-slave" a peck on the cheek then gave the band and fan a confused glance.
"Oh, uh… hey guys, what're you doing here?" the blonde inquired.
"Just havin' a nice yapping session with yer dude-bitch over here about the gig that me and the boys in the band put on the night that came before this morning did." Christian blurred.
Eddy held back his hysterical laughter and spoke, "Oh, Nazz, have you met our singer/bassist Christian? Y'know, the one that was better than you at singing and stuff, the one that your slave here flipped the one finger salute to last night? Ringin' any bells there, blondie?"
Christian snapped to attention. He had completely forgotten about the reason he was talking to the people in the first place! Sure, taunting an obviously whipped man-slave was all well and good, but he had honor to defend! He couldn't just punch him; he might get sued… Therefore, the best thing to do was anger him until he swung at him, the Canadian concluded.
The Canuck faux-wobbled his way to the blonde dominatrix and leaned on her shoulder.
"Y'know Ashlee –that is your name, ain't it-I gotta hand it to ya," Christian spouted, "You can't sing worth shit, but damn, you sure got ol' Cabrera –did I pronounce yer spanglish-blurting beau's last name right? Cabrera- On a leash, don't ya?"
The Eds and Jimmy laughed so hard that they began to roll on the pavement in sideline hysterics.
"I mean, c'mon!" he continued, "I've heard of wearin' the pants in the relationship, but you've bought out a whole proverbial Levi's truck full of 'em! –You should wear a fuckin' belt, by the way. Don't act like you dunno what I'm talking about, I've seen your show, and I've got two words for ya: crack kills!"
"That's it!" Kevin bellowed.
The lumbering dude-laborer took a huge swing at Christian, who abruptly ducked.
"I'm not as think as you drunk I am!" Christian joked.
After a well-placed knee to the gut, Kevin keeled over. Christian sprang into action and quickly pulled Kevin's shirt over his head, like hockey players do when they fight.
The brawl was short lived, as three precise punches and a huge loogie on Kevin's face later Christian came out victorious. Once it was over, Christian picked up his beer bottle and walked off.
"Ok guys, I've done what I've come to do, let's go back to Eddy's house, shall we?" The victorious Ontarian suggested.
Edtallica then proceeded to crank the tunes and babble needlessly until the sun went down. After Christian spread the news to his band mates about Mosh Rock, he bid his friends farewell and drove off in his black '96 Ford F-150 to his home. The Eds and Jimmy bid each other farewell shortly after Christian left and returned home, for they had another day of rehearsal tomorrow.
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A/N: I know, I know, this was kind of a filler chapter, but it had to be done. Sorry it took so long to write this, but school and a severe case of writer's block'll do that to ya. Well read and review until I'm done typing the much more meaningful chapter 10!
