After hours of listening to Master of Puppets and ABBA (what a combo), I wrote this thing in one afternoon. Please enjoy!
"That's it… You're doing great," Chrissy encouraged between puffs and pants.
The sounds of the party— various cheers, shouts, laughter, and loud metal music galore —slowly faded behind her, though her ears rang like she was still standing near the stereo, rather than stumbling down the street. Chrissy herself staggered about like her grandmother without her walker, but only because it felt like an elephant was bending her spine in half.
A very uncoordinated, curly-mulleted, metalheaded elephant named Eddie Munson, who, by the way, was definitely, positively, one hundred percent not drunk, thank you very much.
"Okay… We're at the car!" she announced.
"Mmmph," answered the half-asleep Eddie, slumped over her shoulder and making no effort to be anything but dead weight. Both of them smelled strongly of alcohol. Chrissy let go of his hand to fish the keys out of her jacket, and he promptly slumped face first onto the asphalt like a sack of wet cement.
"Eddie!" She bent over him, trying to stifle her giggling and failing miserably. "How much did you have?"
"How much did you have?" came his muffled retort in a high-pitched, mocking voice.
"Not enough to make me believe I can do— this—!" She tugged on his arm with all her might. The rest of him did not follow. "Get up, silly!"
"You shouldn't be driving either, then," Eddie snorted like it settled the matter, and curled up on the bone-hard, gravelly road like it was the cushiest mattress in his latest campaign's castle. Oh yeah, this next one was gonna blow the Hellfire Club's collective minds… Maybe they would start calling him the Mind Flayer. Lady Applejack, beware…!
"Eddie!"
"A'right, a'right…" He straightened out onto his stomach. "My funeral, I guess." He raised his hands to push himself up and fell flat on his face with them still in the air.
Laughing and shaking her head, Chrissy grabbed his hands. "On my mark— one, two, three!"
Somewhere in his intoxicated mind, Eddie must have rolled a nat twenty, because feeling suddenly shot through his legs and he found himself on his feet. Still grasping hands, they stared at each other for a second. Eddie snorted. They both burst into hysterical laughter, fully realizing how ridiculous they looked and not caring one little bit.
Shaking and leaning against Eddie for support, Chrissy opened the passenger door for him before scooting around to the driver's side. They collapsed into their seats, still giggling.
"But…but seriously…" Eddie hiccupped. "I don't wanna die in this old car. In Harring—Hairy's car. I wanna die…in STYLE." He slowly brought up his hand, staring at it like he'd never seen it before. "Like, if those d-demo…demo-gnats had got me back there…" Staring at Chrissy with the same crazed intensity, he made the "rock on" sign and stage whispered, "Most. Metal. Everrrr."
Suddenly, he faced forward. For a moment, he seemed eerily sober. "I'm so glad I'm not dead, man," he whispered.
Chrissy, too, wore the same faraway expression. "Me, too."
For several heartbeats, they neither moved nor looked at each other, instead gazing blankly out of the windshield. A red station wagon turned down the lamplit street and drove by them.
"We really shouldn't be here," Chrissy murmured. She looked down at the steering wheel and threw up her hands. "I mean, really, it's so late! We should both be getting home!" She turned the keys in the ignition, and the car rumbled to life. Gently setting both hands on the wheel, she turned towards her friend. "Thank you for tonight. I'm really happy I could return the favor."
"Pffft." Eddie waved his hand, the low, warm lights hiding his slightly reddening cheeks (it was the alcohol, he swore). "No favors."
"No, really!" she insisted. "If that song hadn't been playing in your trailer when I—"
"It was nothing," he broke in, quiet but stubborn. "Really. Just pure luck."
He became interested in a hole in his black jeans, picking at the frayed edges in silence.
Sensing the need to change the subject, Chrissy said, "What was that song called again? Something 'Master'?"
That perked him up. "'Master of Puppets'! Only one of 86's greatest hits." He squinted. "Didn't you hear me playing up there?"
"I'm sorry." Chrissy smiled sheepishly. "They kind of all started blending together after a while."
"Wow." Eddie slapped a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Wow, wow, wow, Chrissy! You're gonna break this metalhead's metal heart."
"I'm sorry!"
"Well, I suppose it's only fair," he relented. "All your preppy little pop songs sound the same to me."
"They are not!" she protested, still laughing. "Have you even listened to any of them?"
Eddie made a face. "When I have a choice, the answer's always 'no'."
"Hold on—" Reaching across him, she opened the glove compartment and pointed inside. "Steve started keeping some of our tapes in here since the car gets borrowed so much—"
"What, these?" Eddie dumped an armload's worth of cassettes onto his lap and held a few up delicately, like they might explode. "What is, what is this— The Beatles? Wham!? Please tell me you aren't picking Madonna. I might actually barf."
"Even better." Quick as a blink, Chrissy rooted through the pile, snatched one up, grinned, and popped it in before Eddie could more than the album name, Arrival, on the label.
Eddie braced himself for the peppiest, sappiest, most sickly-sweet pop tunes he'd ever heard in all his life. Just what morbid type of punishment was his good friend about to inflict on him? Privately, he hoped he'd pass out right here and now. Had anybody actually wished for a hangover before?
Like the executioner dropping the guillotine, Chrissy pressed the play button.
Oh, great, there were slow guitar strings, and oh, goodie, it was a bouncy little pop band from Sweden, and yippee, they were singing all the usual lovey-dovey lines, and wait, the tempo picked up and, well, the synthesizers weren't half-bad, and…
…Huh.
Well, okay, the song still sounded like garbage to him, but Chrissy… Chrissy was lost in it. Closing her eyes, nodding her head, bouncing in her seat, tapping the steering wheel. She even began singing a long in a soft, squeaky yet adorable voice. Watching her enjoy herself, Eddie found himself not minding the music as much.
He hesitated to interrupt, but…
"Hey, Chrissy?"
She blinked, returning to reality. "Hm?"
"We, uh… We haven't moved."
"Oh!" She looked around and saw they were indeed still parked. In fact, they'd sat there for so long, everyone else at the party had left. "I'm so sorry! Your uncle isn't going to be mad, is he?"
"Pffft." Eddie shook his head. "Worry more about not swerving off the road and crashing Hair Boy's ride."
"It's okay." Chrissy shifted the car into reverse and began easing backward. "Your metal crowd made me wear way more than I drank. I gave up hours ago."
"Ah, I thought I detected a fragrant perfume coming off your sweater on the way back here." Eddie cracked a grin. "And you were staggering around anyway, because…?"
"Because you were heavy and you kept making me laugh!"
"Well, next time, I'll make it up by giving you the proper lesson on holding onto your liquor at a Metallica concert. Deal?"
She smiled innocently. "You can make it up to me now."
"Huh?"
She reached over and turned up the volume. "You're at my concert now, Eddie Munson."
Eddie could only whine a little in protest as he settled deeper into his seat, resigned to his ungodly fate. Fighting a swarm of Demobats sounded pretty good right about now.
As they turned onto the main road, the song changed. Chrissy gave the tiniest gasp of, "This is my favorite one!" and proceeded to dance in her seat, with one hand on the wheel and the other waving emphatically to the lyrics, as she sang along in her soft voice:
"You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen…"
As he watched her, Eddie couldn't keep the silly grin off his face. And maybe— no, definitely— it was because he was still out of his right mind— but this song sounded… okay. Just okay. He knew for a fact he'd wake up tomorrow and hate it. Guaranteed.
Maybe.
A friend and I brainstormed this idea. We loved the idea of Eddie becoming an ABBA fan thanks to Chrissy, and later on belting all the words to "Dancing Queen"! XD Is it in character? Probably not! I'm just sorry I couldn't fit that scene into this story's timeframe. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed!