[A_NINmas_Carol: Chapter_2]

by Mimi Jones-Taylor
         
          "Gabba gabba hey."
          The elevator seemed to speed up as it descended.
          Trent remained flabbergasted.
          "What the humbug is going on?"
          "I'm the ghost of your Christmas past," said Joey in his nasal New York drawl. "I hear you've become a real jerkoff these days. You weren't always like that, you know."
          "Come on, I've always been like this, as long as I can remember," said Trent, grasping the rail on the side of the elevator wall.
          "You mean a cheap bastard? Well, maybe. But treating your band like shit? That's just recent. Take it from me...sure bands fight, sure they wanna kill each other, but when it comes down to it, you pull yourselves together and your heads outta your asses and make it about the music. Come on, you remember the Self Destruct 1994 Tour, don't you?"
          "Barely," said Trent, his knuckles turning white.
          "Well maybe this will help you remember..."
          The doors opened to a backstage area, with many stagehands in black t-shirts running around in a frenzy.
          "Where is this?" said Trent.
          "Just wait," said Joey, beckoning Trent to leave the elevator.
          Jeordie White walked by in full Twiggy Ramirez makeup.
          "Hey Jeordie, what the fuck?" Trent laughed. Jeordie continued to walk past.
          "He can't hear you," said Joey.
          "Why is he wearing that old shh..."
          Trent watched as Jeordie stopped to talk to Marilyn Manson.
          "What the..."
          "Hey Trent!"
          Trent turned around as Robin Finck called his name.
          "What the fuck is he doing here?"
          Trent's eye caught a skinny, young man in fishnets skulking backstage.
          "Yeah?" the young man called over to Robin.
          "Oh my God," said Trent, in shock at seeing his former younger self. "Was I really that skinny?"
          "Buddy, that ain't skinny," said Joey. "Look at me, dammit!"
          Trent watched his younger self talking to Robin Finck.
          "Let's listen in." Joey beckoned Trent once again to follow him.
          "So you still having one of your famous Christmas parties this year?" said Robin.
          "Yeah. I just bought this really cool place in New Orleans," said young Trent. "I can't wait to have everyone over."
          "Dude, I gotta go hang with my folks," said Robin. "I don't think I can make it..."
          "Dude," young Trent mocked, "I'll fly you down for the day, and then you can catch a red eye home. No worries."
          "You sure? Just for the day?"
          "Come on," young Trent put his arm around Robin, "It wouldn't be a party without you, man." 
          "You're the best!" smiled Robin.
          Trent shook his head.
          "That was a waste of money," he said. "If I hadn't've flown Finck down, I would never have gotten so fucked up on coke that night."
          "You sure about that?" said Joey. "Sure you wouldn't've just taken that cash and spent it on more coke or something worse?"
          "Humbug," said Trent.
          "You're still in denial about how much fun you really had, aren't you?"
          "I wasted a lot of time and money killing brain cells and being out of control," said Trent.
          "Did you? Really?"
          Joey led Trent towards the black stage curtains.
          "Look over here," Joey said, pointing.
          Trent parted the curtains, and walked into the living room of a house. An artificial Christmas tree stood in a corner, covered in colourful lights and a plethora of silver icicles. Presents were piled under the tree, spilling off of the skirt.
          Trent heard laughter coming from the other room. He walked along the wooden floor, and stood in the doorway of the kitchen.
          "Oh my God," he gasped. "How did you know about this?"
          "Man, I know everything about you," Joey said.
          Trent watched his younger self playing with a half-full glass of red wine, watching a young woman bent with her head inside of an oven.
          "I can't fucking believe this," the woman called.
          Young Trent laughed.
          "It's okay, really," he said. "We'll just do what everyone does in LA at Christmas. We'll go out to eat."
          "No, damn it!"
          Tori Amos stood from the oven door.
          "It's Christmas Eve. Nobody eats out on Christmas Eve except loners and Jewish people. And everything else is ready."
          Tori stuck her finger into a pot on the stove.
          "See, these yams are just fine," she said.
          "Great," laughed young Trent, "So we'll have candied yams and bread and red wine." He took another gulp from his glass. "Good enough for me."
          "You don't understand," Tori said, frustrated, "The fucking thing is completely raw. Come and see."
          Young Trent walked over to the stove, as Trent smiled with anticipation of what was about to happen.
          "See?" Tori bent her head in the oven, wriggling the chicken leg, "It's pale and it's bloody on the inside. But it's fucking hot in there."
          Young Trent slid his arm around her waist.
          "Yeah it is, isn't it?" he laughed.
          "Stop that," she giggled. "Look, I'm telling you, this house is possessed. I can't even cook a chicken, the easiest thing in the world to do."
          "It's okay," young Trent said, smiling, lowering his voice. "Here, have some wine. Screw the chicken, we'll go out. Or we'll order in. Let's just have a nice Christmas, okay?"
          Tori smiled, and drank some wine from his glass.
          Trent's face became sullen, as he pulled Joey Ramone aside.
          "Look, why have you brought me here? To show me that I used to be a nice guy?  So what? Times change, people change.  Tori turned out to be a psycho girlfriend in the end. I was totally out of control. Now I've got control of my life, and I'm not going to be swayed by visions of my past."
Joey shook his head.
          "You know, your entire past wasn't a complete waste of time. Look, if you don't want to see that, it ain't my job to get that into you. That's up to the next ghost. Man, I'm outta here."
          Trent turned his back to Joey and found himself in the middle of a dark alley. The cold wind whistled in his ears, and he grasped his arms while he shivered.
          "Fine," muttered Trent. "Humbug. The past is the past and that's where it should stay."
Trent walked towards his car.
          "I gotta get home and sleep. I bet those humbuggers are out partying. Christmas Eve. Bah humbug."
          Trent turned the key in the ignition, shifted the car in gear, and drove off. He reached for the radio knob. "Superfreak" blasted from the speakers.
          "Heh, Rick James," said Trent. Unconsciously, he began to sing along with  the lyrics.
          She's a very kinky girl, The kind you won't take home to muthah. She will never let your spirits doowwwwn. Once you get her off the streets.
          "Hmmm," Trent muttered to himself, "I really am impressed with this sound system. It's as if Rick James was singing in the car himself."
          She's all right. She's all right. That girl's all right by me. Yeahhhh.
          Trent turned to check the passenger rear view mirror. Rick James began to sing in his face.
          She's a superfreak, superfreak, she's super freaking OWWWT.
          Trent screamed and slammed on his brakes.