Ann 2
Alain
JennYAlready? It's Only Been Three Years...PART TWO
October 31st 2006 16:29
(The following is the result of an overactive imagination of a rabid Alice in Chains fan. While much of this is based on interviews and an actual performance of AIC, on MTv Unplugged in 1996, it is written as a fictional account of that event.)
Jerry helped Layne get into the beat up car he drove. Layne teased him mercilessly about it.
“I cannot believe you are still driving this piece of shit, “ Layne said, slinking down in the seat as much as he could, as if afraid someone would see him riding in the car.
“Like you fucking care, you shit yourself.” Jerry said matter of factly, fastening Layne’s seat belt, to which they both started laughing.
That’s where they were. That’s what their entire musical compatibility stemmed from. The tragedy of life as the comedy of life. They laughed about it because there was nothing else that they could do about it.
“Where are you taking me?” Layne was smiling a lot right now.
Jerry knew that when he went to the kitchen to find something for Layne to eat, which turned out to be spaghettios, Layne went back in the bathroom and shot up between his toes. Jerry didn’t begrudge Layne that. It was all Layne had to get through the day. He had stopped getting pissed a long time ago over Layne’s use. He had resigned himself to knowing that Layne was Layne. His pain and suffering were part of the success of Alice in Chains. Jerry would have gladly went back to obscurity if it meant Layne would come back from the death he would soon be facing.
“We have to meet with someone from MTV and then I gotta get you cleaned up, man. You look like shit.”
“I do not look like shit. I’m sexy.”
“Ok, you sexy motherfucker, I am gonna get you cleaned up because you’re too sexy for the show, then. How’s that?”
“Better.”
After the meeting, the band rehearsed for a couple of hours. Layne messed up on a couple of songs, but they hadn’t played together in a long time. Three years, in fact.
Jerry about came. This was it. This was his high. He had messed with drugs. He still did on occasion but the music, playing the guitar, playing and singing with Layne and the boys was what got him off more than anything did. The group decided not to rehearse so that the entire experience would be organic. For all they knew, this would be the last performance they would have. They always had to assume that. That connection was the cause of their success as a group. They didn’t take it for granted. They got off at every performance because of the unknown.
After they got their song order and ran through it a couple of times, Jerry grabbed Layne and headed off to get his haircut. Layne’s cornrows hung past his shoulders and were a massive ball of hair. Jerry didn’t know how long it had been since Layne had even washed his hair and he wasn’t about to touch it when helping Layne get showered that morning. It was a job for a professional.
Jerry had called ahead to Aimee’s and made an appointment for Layne. Aimee was the stylist who always did Layne’s hair. Aimee liked to tell everyone she was the official stylist of AIC but nobody else got their hair done but Layne. Weaves, cuts, colors…Layne was all about his hair when he was coherent. He chose wacked up shit that freaked people out. The band teased him about it constantly.
Just as they were walking into Aimee’s, Jerry smiled. He was inspired. Layne was out of his head and Jerry had to take care of everything, once again. Well, that was okay by Jerry. He sat Layne down in the waiting area in the back, reserved for high profile clients, got Layne a coke and went back in to talk to Aimee.
“Hey Aimee, listen, Layne is sort of indisposed right now. He’s…reaching his inner place, getting in touch with the music and shit. He doesn’t want anyone to talk to him at all today. Aimee’s eyes nearly closed from pleasure. She loved artists.
Jerry continued knowing that he was going to hell officially for what he was about to do. “So, he asked me to let you know what he wants and to make sure no one talks to him again until I pick him up.” Aimee was nodding furiously.
“Of course, anything. What would he like me to create today?”
Jerry fought the urge to roll his eyes and told her in minute detail exactly how Layne’s hair should be done. “OH! And one more thing, Aimee darlin’”, Jerry charmed her, “Layne doesn’t want to see himself today. It interferes with the connection between body and mind. You understand…”
Aimee smiled in orgasmic bliss, “Oh, of course! Not a problem. I will just do his hair in my private office.”
“Perfect.” Jerry kissed her on the cheek and smiled on his way out the door of the salon. Jerry called the rest of the band as soon as he got to the car. Jerry’s laughter could be heard all the way down the street.
Jerry guided Layne walked through the talent entrance at MTV, who was blissfully stoned out of his mind and completely unaware of the stares he was getting.
The rest of the band was rehearing one last time on a couple of songs when Jerry walked Layne onto the stage.
It was like a cartoon reaction, as mouths dropped, music trailed off, and then laughter. Long. loud obnoxious, gut wrenching laughter. “FUCK, man…what did you DO?” “I thought you were kidding, I swear to God, man, he is gonna kill you.”
Layne stood there looking at them somewhat confused and then joining in, he looked at Jerry. “Aww fuck, man, what did you do now?”
Jerry led Layne to a mirror. Layne stood there, letting his mind wrap around it. The cropped short hair, parted to one side like a catholic school boy…with the possible exception of the pink swatches running through it. Layne deadpanned to Jerry, “I am a sexy motherfucker.”
In the background, a guitar became a billboard.
(I apologize in advance for any irregularities in regards to shooting up, drug use, etc. I have never done it. )
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