Trisha Comes to Life

“Ah aah aaaah-Chooo!” Vince sneezed loudly on the couch. He had gotten a cold recently and it was getting worse as the days went by.

The Mod was wearing an bright green t-shirt with two lightning bolts coming down from each shoulder and his favourite black drainpipes from TopShop. Even though he was underneath a quilt, he was still wearing a pair of black Chelsea boots. He was watching a documentary about Gary Numan but could hear the faint sounds of jazz coming from Howard's bedroom.

It was just the two of them in the loft tonight as Bollo was out DJing and Naboo was there with him, mainly to see how many numbers he could get. He heard the music die and a door opened in the hallway.

“Do you need anything Vince?” Howard asked, walking in the living room. He was wearing the usual, a muted shirt and black trousers.

“How about a cure for the common cold?” Vince managed a weak grin.

“Not sure about that, but I can get you a hot chocolate.” Vince had a weakness for hot chocolate, especially when he was ill, and Howard knew it.

Vince smiled and nodded at his friend and crawled deeper under the quilt. “And Howard, could you turn the heating up please? I’m bloody freezing!”

Howard gave him a strange look. “Vince, it is on. It’s boiling in here. Are you really feeling cold?” Vince nodded. “Let me feel your temperature quickly.” Howard put his hand to Vince’s forehead and took it away almost immediately. “Your temperatures really high, you’ve got a fever.”

“How can I have a cold and a fever at the same time? Wouldn’t they even each other out?” Vince asked. "It doesn't make any sense."

“No, little man, you can have both of them at the same time. So, hot chocolate then?” Vince nodded and gave a weak smile. Howard walked into the kitchen and started to do his drink when he looked back at Vince, who was holding a mirror and sorting his hair out.

“Trust you to be concentrating on your hair.” Howard told him.

“Yeah, even if I feel like shit, it don’t mean that my hair has to look like shit too.” It was true. For Vince, his hair was one of the most important factors in his life.

Howard finished making the hot chocolate and brought it back in for Vince. “Careful, its hot.”

“Don’t care, I’m freezing.” Vince took the drink in hand and drunk from it.

“Do you want anything else?”

“Nah thanks, you go listen to ya jazz, I’ll be fine.” Vince grinned. “I’m gonna be off soon anyway, I think a good sleepie would do me good. Night Howard.”

“Good night Vince.” Howard walked into his room, where he began listening to Larry ‘Big Face’ Edison.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That’s where they both were an hour later. Howard was in his room, listening to his jazz records while Vince was in the living room, under a quilt. Naboo had given him some potions to take for his cold, but he had to take them in a specific order. Why he had to, he didn’t know.

He looked up at the clock and saw it was time to take it again. He got up and went into the kitchen… when he forgot what order he had to take them in.

“Great, which fucking one do I take first?” He muttered to himself.

He looked at the 4 bottles and tried to remember which one came first. He couldn’t remember, so he just guessed. He took 2 teaspoons of it, followed by another bottle chosen at random, then another then the last one. He started to feel better straight away but felt very tired, so he turned the TV off and went into his room. The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was the photo of his parents on his bedside table.

Howard heard Vince move into his bedroom. He turned his music off so that Vince could get some rest. He laid down on his bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Howard woke the next morning, he saw it was 8:30. He woke up instantly and ran to Vince’s room. They were meant to at the Nabootique in half an hour. Naboo and Bollo would already be there, they always got there at 8am.

When he ran in, he saw just Vince’s hair hanging out of the duvet. “Vince, wake up! We have to be at work in half an hour. Vince wake up!” He nudged his arm but got his own shoved away.

“Leave m’lone.” Came the reply. Howard frowned. That didn’t sound like Vince’s voice. Vince’s voice was deeper, and it definitely wasn’t that feminine, despite the fact that Vince was often mistaken for a woman.

“Vince?” Howard asked, hesitantly. He pulled the cover away slowly but dropped it. It wasn’t Vince under the quilt. It was a woman, who had the same hair as Vince. She pushed the covers off of her (luckily she was wearing pyjamas, too big for her, but she was covered up) and sat up.

"What are you doing in my..." The woman trailed off, noticing she wasn't in her own room. "Where am I?" She looked up at Howard with a horrified look in her big baby blue eyes. “And who the fuck are you?”

“You're in my loft and what do you mean ‘who the fuck am I?’ Who the fuck are you? And where’s Vince?” Howard asked.

“Vince? I don’t even know who Vince is. My name’s…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Naboo, you have to come back to the loft. Now.” Howard told the shaman on the phone.

“Why Howard, what’s the big emergency?” Naboo asked.

“Because Trisha has come to life.” Howard replied grimly.