God Bless the Children of the Beast

Not long after the festival that marked our sudden rise to stardom, both bands were back in LA with a little down time before tours. When I heard that Vince was having a party, I was there faster than Tommy and the strippers. By this time each member of Broken had separate apartments, Rocky even had a girlfriend, so I had no problem sneaking away. I often was sneaking away to hang out with Nikki anyway, not like that was a secret.
I was surprised to find that Nikki was nowhere in sight upon my arrival. He usually had the most drugs out of anybody in the room, so when he didn’t show up after a day I was disappointed. However, there were plenty of drinks. Some of Vince’s friends from Hanoi Rocks were there too, and we really had the drunk party going on by then. Vince had girls doing all sorts of things, sexual things I’d never even imagined before I met this band. It was all quite hilarious to me, because I was just another one of the guys. That is, until I somehow drunk-fucked both Tommy and Vince separately. I planned not to tell Nikki about that one.
After a couple of days Mick showed up, to our surprise, and things got really interesting between his hideous girl and Vince’s neat-freak wife. Tommy started a drinking game, a shot every time she complained about a mess. We soon started another game, a shot every time Vince complained. Before long we were nearly out of alcohol, and we were drunk off our asses. I’m surprised more things didn’t get broken between all of us.
During one of my drunken excursions I somehow ended up on the beach. A giant figure clad in leather with a puff-ball of wet hair lay on the sand. I kneeled down beside it and poked it. An eye drowsily looked up at me. I cocked my head, like a curious feline. “Let me be.” The leather-monster said. I poked it again. “Let me go, let me die.” It mumbled, barely audible above the waves. Its clothes were just starting to dry. I shrugged and retreated back to the house-where-other-drunken-friends-were, barely giving it anther thought. In fact, until Mick walked into the house later that night, I had forgotten all about it.
Things were starting to get boring after I did every guy in the house at least twice and the alcohol ran out. We were starting to get sober, and the fun was ending. I was beginning to worry, not only about Nikki, but about what would happen if my band found out about this. Somehow they were naturally all killjoys compared to Motley, and I liked hanging out with these guys better. The only problem with that is our situation will get worse. We’ve already been forced into making a third album together to keep up with the competition, and I much preferred to party. What if…somehow…they find a better guitarist than me? What would happen then?
Just as I felt like I was about to cry from my drunken-drama and lack of sobriety for days on end, Vince made an announcement. “Who wants to go on a beer run?!” He called. Every head in the room shot up at the mention of more alcohol. One black-haired figure shot up. “I do!” Razzle called, one of the Hanoi guys, and the pair left. We heard Vince’s new Pantera start up outside and off they went.
After a while of more partying, breaking things, drinking games until the alcohol was gone for sure, and making fun of Vince’s girl, we were sober enough to realize we were bored as fuck. But not only that; Vince and Razzle were missing with our beer. “Dude,” Tommy finally said at one point, “even if Vince took Razzle on a fucking joyride, they should be back by now.” I nodded in agreement, realizing it must have been a lot longer than it felt like. “The liquor store is only around the corner, so what the fuck are they doing?” Almost as if in reply to the drummer, the blaring of sirens suddenly became tangible. They hauled ass around the house and squealed to a halt. Everybody turned to stone and stared at one another, mentally sharing one thought. ‘Oh no’.
The collection of us, I wasn’t sure how many had come in gone in the past few days, made our way outside towards the sound. It seemed like time was moving in slow motion, but I suddenly built up the courage to run the last few meters. I left the group behind me and rounded the corner, careening to a stop as I took in the scene. The first thing I noticed was a blazing red Pantera, half totaled, in the street. Lights were blinding my vision as I looked around for any signs of my friends. Vince and Razzle couldn’t be dead. This couldn’t happen, we were just drinking and partying and sleeping together, this couldn’t be real. I briefly noticed the most eerie thing I’d ever seen, a single Chuck Taylor in the middle of the street, before I noticed a patch of poofy blonde hair on the curb. “Vince!” I screamed, running over to him.
He didn’t look up at me, he just sat there, rocking on his heels, head down, covered in blood. “Vince” I said again, trying to get through to him. Where was the blood coming from? Who’s was it? Where’s Razzle? I sat beside Vince and held him, trying to comfort him. “Vince where’s Razzle?” I asked softly, with an obviously worried tone. He just kept rocking as though I weren’t even there. At this point the rest of the group had caught up and were now surveying the situation. I noticed Tommy heading towards us, and a gurney being wheeled out of the street. “Vince.” Tommy called, then a cop knocked him aside. I stared up in shock before I too was knocked away. I would’ve fought back if I weren’t in shock. Before I knew it Vince was being thrown into a cop car and Razzle was being loaded into an ambulance. Tommy and the rest of us talked it over and headed immediately to the hospital after Razzle, who clearly needed us more.
What came next was the first huge shock of my life. A doctor, bloodied like he had just come out of a horror film, came into the waiting room. I could see Tommy barely holding back tears. “Your Buddy Razzle didn’t make it.”