Swords & Axes: A Cheerless Interlude
by The Jessica X
Libby, Sabrina, et al. are © Archie Comics / Hartbreak / Paramount / Whatever.
Adymm and the members of In Absinthia are © me, so there.
This work of fiction is © myself.
Chapter 10: Libby With Butterfly Wings
"You can stop right there," I said, rising to my feet. "Look, it was fun once, but this is your thing; you can find somebody that fits better."
"You don't have to say yes now," Adymm blurted, picking up my hand. "Just... just think about it, okay?"
"There's nothing to think about!" I yelled, suddenly angry for some reason. Didn't anybody care what I thought, here?! "This isn't- I'm not your golden calf, okay? My image is all wrong for your band, you need somebody more... I dunno, gothy or whatever, and I'm just too-"
"Too pretty?" Milnot said with a crooked smile. "You got that right, but I think we can still use ya."
"We need you, Libby," T.Q. put in simply. "You're not only handy, but you're damn good."
"Shut up, you guys..." That one was more of a whine than anything.
"Do think about it," Greg yawned. "Let's call it a day for now, gents."
"Whew."
"Oh, dude, I almost forgot!" Adymm ran over to his guitar bag and unzipped it. "There was something I was all psyched to tell you guys, but all this crap kinda pushed it from my mind." He came up with four slips of paper.
"You found paper?" T.Q. asked with a chuckle. "Good boy! Now, fetch!"
"Shut up, moron!" He slowly crept forward into the unofficial circle the chairs and Milnot's drums formed. "I've been trying to get ahold of these for like, a month, and all my efforts finally paid off; to be honest, I didn't think I could do it, it's a friggin' miracle!"
"Out with it, already, you pompous twit," Greg snapped as he pulled a toque over his shaved head. "Or we'll grow bored and leave."
"I hold in my hands," he continued over-dramatically, "four tickets to the sold-out Smashing Pumpkins farewell concert in Chicago!"
The other guys instantly swooped down to gaze upon the grand prize Adymm had acquired, whooping and carrying on.
"And this is... important, right?"
...oh, don't give me that look. It's not like I've gone to more concerts in my short, sweet life than I can count on one hand, nevermind that I'd only ever heard of the band in passing; it seems like Harvey had tickets to go see them like, a thousand years ago.
"Libby, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event!" Adymm said, grabbing me by the shoulders; I couldn't help but smile at that manic gleam in his eyes. "December 2nd is our last chance to see Billy Corgan live!"
"Yeah, sure," Milnot laughed. "We all know they'll probably get back together in a couple years - seven, tops."
"But the Beatles never got back together," I put in, trying to be helpful. "It might be morbid, but one of these Pumpkins could get assassinated, too."
"Exactly," Adymm breathed. "Think about it! These things cost me more than they should, but it'll all be worth it when we hear them play; who knows? Maybe we'll get inspired to further greatness!"
"Well, count me out," Milnot replied, shrugging into his coat. "I mean, I'd love to meet Jimmy Chamberlin, but I still think they'll be back together soon enough. Besides, my Aunt Lewanda is getting married that weekend, and my moms would kill me if I missed it."
"Perfect," T.Q. said with a shrug. "That means there's four of us, and four tickets."
"Are you lot mental?" Greg spat as he pulled on his gloves. "Just exactly how does our intrepid quartet get to Chicago? Not in that crap van."
"I know I can't afford a plane ticket," I said quickly.
"Well... we could take the bus," Adymm thought aloud. "Greyhound's not that expensive; I'm sure we can swing it."
"Too bad it smells," T.Q. said.
Greg shook his head. "If you're not willing to put up with smells for one bloody trip, how d'you expect to make it on the road if and when we become famous?"
"Hmm... yeah, I guess you're right. I say we go for it."
"You get me there without breaking my pocketbook," Greg said slowly, "and I'm in, as well."
"You guys have lost your minds," Milnot laughed.
"Well?" Adymm asked. "How 'bout it, Libbs?"
I hesitated. "Well... I don't know the band really well, but it sounds like a blast. Except, well, I'm not sure about classes, or work, or-"
"Ask off!" Adymm said excitedly. "And we'll leave Friday afternoon, get there Saturday morning or whatever and then leave the day after the concert - we should only be gone four days total, right? You might even be able to make it to class on Monday!"
"But..."
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I'll spare you the rest of this conversation, because as lengthy as it was, and as much as we all ranted and raved, the eventual result was me caving in and asking Mr. Scapelli for a big favor, which he was happy to grant... as long as I cleaned out the fish tank when I got back. See, he loves his little fishies, so he put this huge aquarium in his restaurant for decoration; nobody wants to clean it, but now I had to. Isn't that flipping wonderful?
We did run into another snag; Greyhound turned out to be like, almost $150 for each person round-trip. It was cheaper than flying, but not by enough for all of us to be able to swing it without making a few minor sacrifices. T.Q. sold off some of his "stash", and Greg pulled a couple double shifts that weekend, but we still didn't have enough - only Adymm was covered since he charmed the money out of his parents as an early Christmas present. Secretly, I knew I could just buy us all passage in a heartbeat, but that nest egg was going to stay a nest egg, dammit!
Then, we realised the band had a gig that Wednesday night at The Blue Pearl - this jazz club with an aquatic theme that usually didn't book rock bands, but once in a while they let one slip by, especially for local artists. If the guys didn't suck they'd get paid the usual gas money, and if we could only pawn off a little merchandise, we might be able to make this happen.
Yeah - "we". Oh, I happily offered to man the gift table, but they just laughed. They knew I'd give in for the cause, and I found myself back in that ripped leather jacket, performing as "Cheerless" once again.
My second set with In Absinthia went better than the first; now that I knew I could pull off all those songs, the pre-show jitters were significantly more manageable, and I slipped into rock mode easier. The crowd seemed to get into it, and we actually sold about half our t-shirts (optimistically, we brought more like fifty that time). We got a lot of people coming up to us with words of praise, and our usual modest handful of autograph hounds and paparazzi. Ahh, it's hard being beautiful and talented.
With that, and me dipping into my nest egg for an extra fifty bucks in travel cash, we did it - we had enough for one grand road trip to see the Pumpkins go bye-bye. Even though I barely knew who they were, a crash course via borrowing Milnot's copy of "Siamese Dream" got me pumped for this whole experience... pumped enough to buy all of their other albums. It was going to be spectacular.
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Well, the trip was... something, alright.
We ran into the Greyhound station on Eighth just in time to get our tickets and catch the bus. T.Q. forgot clean underwear and Adymm never did find his toothpaste, but with only three backpacks and a purse for luggage, we were off!
I have never been more bored in my life than on that bus. I mean it, if I'd been alone, it would have been pure torture and I might not have made it alive; Adymm and I spent most of the time snuggling, but the best that did was make it warm boredness, so I can only imagine how much worse it was for Greg and T.Q.. There were some interesting sights for a while, but then we started seeing mostly fields and corn and stuff like that, and all there was to do was get up and go to the lavatory... or listen to the crazy lady talk about her cats. I'd rather use the disgusting john, thanks.
In retrospect, it's really too bad we didn't have room for a couple books, or Tetris or something.
Chicago is a grubby little city. Fine, so there's nothing little about it, but it's all dirty and run-down - I'm kinda used to a lot of that from New York, but it's almost everywhere there. There's still a lot of interesting stuff, though, and we spent some time walking around taking it in for the several hours we had before the show started; we grabbed lunch at this great little sushi place, I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was.
Unfortunately, T.Q. had his wallet stolen. It didn't mean anything dire as far as the trip went, since Greg was holding onto the bus tickets and most of our cash with his iron fist, and Adymm had insisted I keep the concert tickets in my - God, this is so embarassing - in my panties, so there'd be no chance of losing them. That wasn't uncomfortable at all. So really, all it meant was he lost a few pictures of his girlfriend, and he'd have to go get another copy of his driver's license when we got back.
By that point, I started to wonder if this was all worth it... but I take it all back.
"Welcome," Billy Corgan bid us, "to the last gasp of the Smashing Pumpkins."
This part could stretch on for a long time if I really got into it, so I'll try to keep it brief; yeah, it blew my mind. I mean, I guess maybe I had been listening to more and more rock ever since I moved, and I blame that on Adymm, but this... maybe this is another bad cliché, but the experience changed my life. I never knew there could be music this real, that I could feel it this deep... or that so many people could come together to appreciate a band that had only existed for one single decade.
To be completely honest, though, I also didn't know they could do it for so long. No seriously, we're talking almost FIVE HOURS. This was the longest anything I'd ever been to, including some pretty awful off-Broadways. But you know what? It was long and good. By the end of the show, I was dying of thirst, my bladder was on the brink of explosion (even after a pit stop between the first and second encores) and my feet just plain weren't speaking to me... but my only real regret is that I hadn't had more time to get acquainted with their body of work before I saw them say goodbye.
Adymm was right there with me, too; for some of the more energetic songs he had to get up and mosh or whatever, but mostly he wanted to share the experience with me... and even though we were sweaty, covered in white makeup (all his, but he kept kissing me) and completely exhausted, somehow feeling his arms around me while a bald guy in a dress screamed obscenities at us was one of the most romantic evenings I could ever imagine.
So yes, it was beautiful, it was terrible, it was awe-inspiring... and it awoke something in me.
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END Chapter Ten