"Down is up"

Left Shoe

Well-Known Member
#1
"Pink Floyd, Golden Earring, and the Sweet coming up in the next set. But first, the Eagles."

"There~ are sta~rs in the sou~thern sky ... sou~thward a~s you go~~"

At least there was something comforting about the drive to the hospital. One of his earliest influences took him back, way back before he had to deal with all the pressures of the real world.

----------

These last few days, especially, had been a nightmare.

After his agent ratted him out to the cops for drug posession, the feds went after him. And they came after him hard. The list of charges was at least as long and colorful as his third Top 10 hit - four counts of posession of illegal substances, six counts of transporting illegal substances across state lines (six? how did that happen?), two counts of sale of illegal substances to a minor, five more counts of providing illegal substances to minors ... and that was just the tip of the iceberg. He bristled at the thought of the past blurry year. Why had the agent waited several months before slitting my throat?

His apartment had been raided four days back. He hadn't even been on top of the charts long enough to buy a house anywhere! Practically everything he had owned was either confiscated or destroyed outright. ... even his external hard drive.

Dude, you don't mess with a man's hard drive, he thought. The most they're going to find is some strange pictures of Wizard of Oz munch-- oh. Shit.

Brushing that thought aside, he climbed out of thecab and paid the fare. Get in there, apologize, and get the hell out!

----------

The nurse at the front desk recognized him as he walked in the front door. Aw, crap. He hadn't even thought about getting a haircut since he had been bailed by his agent (the fucking hypocrite), but it was a bit late for that now. Anyone who had bothered to read the front page would probably recognize him.

"Third floor, turn right, straight down to the end. Last room on your right," the nurse snipped. He didn't even have to ask - the only imaginable reason he would have walked through the visitors' entrance would be to visit his father.

He took the stairs, because he'd be damned if he had to be stuck in an elevator full of his ex-fans. Mumbling to himself in his head, he tried preparing a couple words, so he would be ready when he met his father again, for the first time in ... five, six, seven years. Oh wow, this is going to be painful. He thought about all the things he had been waiting to say. 'You spent fifteen years making me feel like dirt, and you expect me to thank you?' 'There's a reason I have avoided you for all these years.' 'You always wondered why my head is mis-shaped? ... Do you remember what happened to your favorite belt?'

Upon entering the room, any ready statement he had evaporated in an instant. There was a doctor leaning over his father, checking vitals and doing other routine checkup procedures. Then, the doctor turned and asked, sarcastically, "You do realize your father has been in a coma for two years now, don't you?"

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You know, maybe that's not a bad thing. We weren't on good terms, and only the two of us and god knows what happened the last time I tried to reach out to my father.

He left the hospital like a bat out of a frozen hell. There's no use staying around here.

The cab ride back to his apartment was uneventful, although the radio played American Pie followed by Not Fade Away. That was eerie.

The fridge horror set in as he opened the door to his apartment. All that he had was some of the simpler furniture, and his acoustic guitar.

Refusing to let the hard times bring him low, he sat down a strummed a few chords, not exactly the blues. Something about overcoming the worst of the worst times. You have to look for the beauty in every dismal situation, even if that beauty is irony.

**********END

I really wanted to extend this, especially the end. I had to scrap the entire original ending because of time. :/
 
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