Trick For Your Treats: A Maypole Dance Around Spike

October 31st, 1997

Part 5: Some Kind of Wonderful

12 hours after the fact:

Oz: So, you're a vampire?

Spike:

Long Pause

Spike: Can'tcha say hello like a normal person?

Oz: No, sorry. Hello. It's just… Okay, I've been thinking.

Spike: :stares:

Oz: I've noticed: you're never out before sundown. You smoke but don't breathe. Your skin is never warmer than room temperature. Man, you cast a shadow but not a reflection.

Spike: Alright, yeah, you caught me. Ima vampire.

Oz: So, how's that working for you?

Spike:Alright, I guess. There are days when immortality wears thin.

Oz: So, is that where the wantin' to be a rock star thing comes in?

Spike:If you mention Anne Rice then I'll have to hurt you.

Considering Pause.

Oz: Cool shirt.

Spike:Thanks.

For Oz, it was a long conversation, and he's now almost exhausted his word quota for the day. The remainder will have to be rationed stingily, doled out in ones and twos, or he risks going over.

Oh yeah, you don't get a reputation for being this taciturn on accident. It takes discipline and hard work.

Spike recognizes and respects the fact that the conversation is over. He walks over to pick up an amp, which weights at least three hundred pounds, and swings it up onto a shoulder, lending a hand at loading the van.

Spike's casual demonstration of his strength is another one of those things that Oz couldn't help noticing. Daniel Osbourne is a watcher without any awareness that an entire class of dedicated professional supernatural observers exists. It isn't something Oz does so much as an extension of who he is. He notices things.

For instance, Oz sees Devon for who he really is, past all of the facades and pretenses. He knows that Devon has a more complex relationship with his hair than any of the girls that he dates. And that Devon is desperately oblivious to his own utter lack of complexity.

Oz sees Stacey the girl-wanabee-boy whose quiet depression is only alleviated when they're jamming together. Her time spent on her keyboard is the only break in her eternal ennui.

Oz sees Spike too, but he has a feeling that he's never seen all there is to the blonde drummer. Spike is complex. Spike has layers. Spike, like Shrek is an onion. This whole "vampire" thing is just another added dimension. It's given Oz a lot to think about, to digest, but later. Right now, they've got a gig.

The Dingos are playing opening act for Steel Machine at the Shelter Club in LA. It's just after sunset and they've got three hours to get the van loaded, to make it to the club, and to setup the equipment. The Dingoes can't afford a stagehand, so they handle their own setup.

"I didn't know you were a Chili Peppers fan," Devon said to Spike while they were stuck in traffic on 101. The lead singer had his gaze glued to his own reflection in the rear view mirror. If he were observant, Devon might notice that Spike, seated behind the driver, can't be seen in said mirror. But he isn't, so he doesn't, and Spike and Oz share a smirking glance.

Spike is wearing a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt with black jeans and dockers. The shirt is snug and huggy of Spike's many muscles. The guy must spend hours working with weights. Oz experiences the briefest spasm of guy envy. Cause while being sly n' handsome are definite assets, chicks really dig the buffness.

"Oh yeah, love the Peppers," said Spike. He fiddles with the drumsticks, which he's been holding all evening, twirling them between agile fingers. His attitude is excited and expectant, setting Oz on edge in anticipation of whatever's supposed to happen.

"That your costume?" Stacy asked, indicating a small, neatly printed nametag on Spike's shirt that Oz hadn't noticed before. It reads Chad Smith.

"Yeah." Spike smirked as if he were privy to some private joke.

"Cool," Oz said, using up one of his twenty remaining words for the day. He is unsure exactly what to think. Perhaps Spike has an unusually self-denigrating sense of humor. If so, it's sorta sad. After all, the guy isn't that bad of a drummer.

The Shelter Club is cool too. It's Halloween, so lots of teens are in costume. The Dingoes turn on stage comes, and then band launches into its first song, It Sucks To Be Me, But It Sucks To Be You More.

Things are moving right along, and they're doing good, performing with a minimum of dropped chords.

Then, between sets, a startled exclamation from the drums drew Oz's attention. He looked, performed a silent double take, and then looked again.

Chad "Funk" Smith – arguably one of the greatest drummers alive - is sitting where Spike used to be.

It goes without saying that all of the Dingoes turned to stare.

"Hey, where am I? What's going on?" Chad asked.

Oz hesitated, doing a quick summation in his head. Spike's costume + Halloween It's a weird world don't you know? Sad, when a situation could be reduced to a Backstreet Boys song.

"Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming," Chad said, conveniently supplying his own rationalization for lack of handy explanation.

"Wow, Chad Smith!" Devon exclaimed, all of the sudden. "Wow, you're like… a music genius!"

"Wow," Stacy echoed.

"Am I dreaming?" Chad asked, looking to Oz, perhaps due to his lack of babbling, for confirmation.

"Must be if you're jamming with us," Oz agreed. Only twelve words left.

Luckily, Chad nodded and accepted, not demanding a detailed explanation. The Dingoes finished out their set, and with Chad Smith on drums, they absolutely rocked. They were on fire. The audience went wild, and the Dingoes came back on for three encores.

Oz figured it just about rated Coolest Thing Ever.

But he hoped that they eventually got Spike back.

End Part 5.