alternate title 1: Vegetable Defaults and the 25 cent Hooker
alternate title 2: My Pilgrim Lovers and The 25 cent Hooker
alternate title 3: Nynedaze with a 25 cent Hooker
alternate title 4: Nynedaze with my Pilgrim Lovers
alternate title 5: My Pilgrim Lover is a Default Vegetable
alternate title 6: My Pilgrim Lover is a 25 cent hooker.
alternate title 7: My Pilgrim 25 cent Hooker is a Gangrene Cadaver
alternate title 8: Nynedaze in Rivendell with my 25 cent Hooker
alternate title 9: "What in the fuck is wrong with Dave?"
alternate title 10: "Why Mark got a nipple ring: The True Story."
******July 1977******
"Did you know? I always wanted to be a doctor..." Maniac Malucci said sadly as he strung his guitar, his band mates guffawing loudly.
"Dave?! You? A doctor... Tell me a new one..." Mark Greene snickered. "You as a doctor.." He shook his head and shrugged, unpacking his drum kit, his long flowing locks cascading down his naked back, the name of his first wife, Jennifer tattooed across his shoulder blades. "I'm sorry man... I can't picture it..."
"Yeah... Well... We all could have had different lives... You never know..." Candy Hathaway sighed. "If we'd been born in different times, taken different paths. "I was thinking of med school when I was younger, but I never was much for science, and I look so bad in white." She said defensively, sticking up for the band leader. Her outfit, a tight black leather dress that showed more skin than leather. She pulled at a teased tendril of hair and sighed.
Baddass Benton smiled, and grabbed his girl around the waist. "Candy.. Doncha know when to lay low?? Women... Good for two things, fucking and singing... You don't have the brains to have gone to med-school.. You know that. We have twenty minutes before the show.. Enough time to zip me out of these leather pants and.." He grinned, running a free hand through his large afro.
She laughed politely, batting away his hands. "Petey... Git your hands off me.." Candy hissed, watching his eyes narrow.
"If you ever call me that again..." He growled, swinging his hand back threateningly.
"Ooohhh Whoa, big fella..." Malucci said putting himself in between the two. "Take it easy... Okay?? If you settle down, I'll let you into my stash okay? Just everybody settle down..." He put his hands up, raising the palms and parting the band members. "We're on in fifteen.. Everybody get ready, Okay?"
His friends glared at him.
"Okay?!" He waved his hands towards the dressing rooms, and pressing a few tablets into Baddass's palm, closed his fingers over them. "Calm down... Just calm down okay?" Dave hissed, pushing the hand away from him and turning to the others. "Has anyone see Reuben or Cat?" Malucci said worriedly, checking his watch.
*********October 1969*********
"Dave... I think this is the worst idea you've had yet..." Mark whined, his mop of hair falling into his eyes. His father had tried to get him to cut his hair for months now, and was on the verge of taking the clippers to the boy's head while he slept. His mother had been his saviour to this point, telling her husband that it was good that Mark was exploring his feminine side. Ironically, if Mark had heard what his mother had been saying, he probably would have cut it off himself.
The dirty blonde locks were somewhere between a Mullet and an English Sheep dog, and Mark peered at the younger man blearily. "Dave... I'm not starting a band with you... This is dumb. My parents won't let me buy drums.. I play them at school... School is as far as I'm getting... School band. Not some dream you thought up with Reuben while getting stoned. Can you imagine if I got drums? My father owns a GUN, Malucci... I learned awhile back. Never piss off a man who owns a gun."
"Come on Mark.. It'll be fun.. Think of all the ladies we'll score." Dave grinned, grabbing his buddy around the shoulders.
"Get off of me, Malucci.. I'm tutoring you in Bio.. That's all.. I'm not your band buddy... I don't need ladies, I have Jenny." The teen grumbled, pushing Dave off him. "The only reason I'm here is because Mom's cooking meatloaf again."
"I like your Mom's meatloaf." Dave said in defense of Mrs. Greene. "It's good... Those little bits of macaroni.. Those green bits of stuff, the cheese... It's good."
"Fine... Then you go eat it. I'm staying here. You're mom's making lasagna right?" Mark said, licking his lips, smelling the air.
"I thought you were just my Bio tutor, Mark..." Dave said with a tinge of anger. First the guy was ripping on him for having an idea for a band, then he ripped on his own mom's cooking, now he was trying to get into his mom's kitchen. "Eater of my mother's lasagna."
"Okay... Whatever... I'll be in your band... What do I gotta do??" Mark said with a tinge of impatience. He was hungry. and Mrs. Malucci was serving it up, he could smell the warmth coming from the kitchen.
"We gotta find Reuben and eat before my Dad gets back..." Dave said a little nervous. His guitar was slung over his shoulder, his sneakers always on his feet. It always made for a quick get-a-way. Just in case dad decided to make a stop off at the liquor store on the way home from work.
"Okay... No problem." Mark said quietly. He'd seen Mr. Malucci in action. He felt powerless near the man.. Seeing the younger boy always coming to school with something in a sling. There was times he wished he hadn't promised his own dad that he'd go into the military when he finished school. He wished he could become a doctor or somethin', and show that man what he was doing to his son. Show him the error of his ways... The right way.
**
Their stomachs warm and full of Mrs. Malucci's home cooking, they walked to the bus-stop. Reuben Carter lived in the better part of town. Okay... So the lucky bastard was rich... He wasn't just better off, he was near perfect, and it was his nearly perfect money that could get their little band off the ground.
"We could just phone you know... I'm sure they'd send a limo..." Mark said helpfully, his bus-tokens jingling in his pocket as they stood in the bitter autumn cold, the bus-shelter only acting like a sieve for the wind.
"Okay Captain Obvious... Do you have a quarter? Do you see a pay phone? I can't phone them from home. Cos, I know if my mother sees a Carter limousine pull up to my house, forget my Dad.. She's the one that's gonna be boxing my ears. She taught me never to rely on the generosity of others." Dave said irritably, his arms crossed.
"Well... Aren't we??" Mark queried. "I mean... That's the only reason we're asking him into the band isn't it?"
The bus pulled up and the two youths got on, their tokens plinking into the jar at the front. "Well..." Dave shrugged. "Yeah, it is."
****
Bob "Reuben" Carter looked at the guys and sighed. "You do realize that it's going to cost you. I know why you're here, and you guys couldn't be more obvious about it..." His tone softened as he saw Malucci's latest battle scar. "Your daddy do that to ya?"
Reuben pointed to the boy's black eye and sighed, sitting forward on his haunches. "Look, I'll do anything to get you out of that man's house.. You can use my Gamma's basement to practice... I don't think she'd have a problem with it. I only have one condition." His steely eyes bore into the two teens.
Dave nodded, self-conscious of his eye. It had healed enough, but not enough to stop people from remarking about it. "You want in the band right?" He smiled cockily, changing the subject.
Reuben shook his head. "I'm twenty-three... I don't want in some high-school band. I want my brother in the band. I want you guys to give Johnny a chance."
Dave and Mark exchanged glances and sighed. "Sure... Where is he?"
"I'm here.." The meek voice replied from the doorway, his hair shaggy, but greased back upon his grandmother's request. "Hi guys..." His eyes sparkled, as his pink lips quivered. "Is Bob right? I can be in the band?"
Dave nodded. "Yeah... I guesso... What do you play Johnny?" A skeptical smile was exchanged with Mark, as if this kid knew Rock'n'Roll.
"Piano.." John Carter said embarrassed. "I.. I got a keyboard though.. I can play that... I... can play... and..." He trailed off, staring at his feet.
Mark sighed. "And what, kid?"
"Can ya call me Carter?"
"Carter?? That's not very Rock'n'Roll... What about Cat? Like Cat Stevens?" Dave said helpfully.
Johnny raised his head slightly, a small nervous smile on his lips. His wavering eyes seeking approval from his older brother. "Does that sound okay Bob?"
"Sounds fine to me kid... You have fun..." Bob Carter said quietly. It had been a month ago when Nixon had finally come to his senses and withdrew 35,000 soldiers from Vietnam. One of them had been him, although his commanding officer had told the young man that he would have been sent back on the next ship anyway, the leg wound had put him on the sidelines. He was useless as a defender of the nation.
It had been two months since Bob had seen his friends splattered all over the jungle floor, he shuddered, staring off into space. His friends dying and nothing to stop it.. He'd called after Coggins... But... He didn't hear him... and then... The mine... It'd come out of nowhere...
"Bob?"
"Reuben?"
"Hey?" Johnny ‘Cat' Carter waved his hand in front of his brother's face. "Bobby... You okay?? Hey... Bobby?" A fearing, tearful timbre came into his voice as he pleaded with his brother. "Hey..."
"S'okay.. S'okay Johnny.. Go play with your friends... I'm-I'm going to go upstairs and take a nap." Bob looked at them with a hollow, vacant expression, the fight gone from him. He wasn't going to fight anymore. He'd learned it wasn't worth it. Slowly he stood, trembling with each step.
The three teens watched the legendary Bob ‘Reuben' Carter walk upstairs, his gait like an old man's, his young hand gripping his cane like a world war veteran. John sighed sadly. His twenty-three year old brother was a war veteran. He looked at Dave and nudged him in the ribs. "So you wanna see the rec room?"
Dave stared at the empty stair-case and nodded. "Uh huh.. Sure.. Hey.. Is there a phone down there? I gotta call a few people."
**
"I'm not phoning him man... He's bigger than me... He'll kill me.. Ross and I do NOT get along, Mark. It just figures... Some half-breed Jew screwing me out of lead singer by inviting his friend along..." Dave grumbled, sitting on the plush leather chair, his feet propped up, the phone in his lap and a slice of pepperoni with extra cheese in his hand.
Carter had ordered a few pizzas for the three of them, the bottles of coke sitting on coasters, and the Domino's pizza boy driving off with the biggest tip he'd ever seen.
Mark glared at him. Or at least would have if he didn't have thick curly hair obscuring his view. "You're a little linguini twisting Italian shit head, Malucci... So don't go calling me a half-breed Jew you stupid little shit." He spat, throwing down his slice of pizza and pacing the room.
"Hey.. Uh guys... Can you not swear? My Gamma doesn't like it when people swear... It's kinda her house and-" Johnny sputtered.
"You wet-end... Why do you call her Gamma anyway?! You're like seventeen, Johnny... I mean... Christ..." Dave rolled his eyes.
"Uhh.. Yeah... and that... Don't blaspheme either..." Johnny reddened, munching on his pizza crust.
"Blas-what?" Mark cocked an eyebrow, not that anybody could tell.
"You know... Say god's name when you don't mean it... I dunno... It's something with my Gam-"
"Shut up about your Gamma!" Dave sighed angrily, snatching up the phone. "What about that guy... He's in your class, Mark... Pete or something..."
"Pete?? You mean Benton the bastard??" Mark sighed, a tuft of hair flying up and then landing back in place as if it had never moved. "The guy is an asshole.. and that Candy... She's bad news, man... Little Russian slut.. She's even done Ross... She lays flatter than Saran Wrap."
"I'll phone him anyway... Hand me the book." Dave relented, grabbing the phone book and sooner than you could say ‘Malucci's a linguini twister', Peter Benton was on the leather couch in the Carter family rec room with Candy Hathaway draped on top of him like a slut-skin rug.
"Pete..." Dave smiled nervously, turning the joint over in his fingers like a pencil. "How much would it take for you to join our little band?"
Benton sighed, dipping his head and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke. Slowly bringing his head up so he stared at them all in the eye. "Soo... You want me to join your little friends and play instruments?? Where are we playing?? Molson Centre or Carter's fabulous basement?? Nice carpeting Carter..." He sneered, grabbing his girlfriend and ignored them for a record ten minutes as he proceeded to count every single one of Candy's twelve fillings, the resulting noise a mixture between an orgy and a drain cleaning.
"Pete?" Dave asked nervously and Peter dropped Candy onto his lap so fast that she gasped in pain.
"Okay.. Ground rules, Malucci..." He snapped angrily. "First of all. The next person to call me Pete, gets a punch in the teeth. Got that? Second of all.. I don't play without Carol..."
The boys exchanged glances. "Who?"
Candy got off of Benton's lap and sighed. "ME! I'm Carol..." She swatted her boyfriend and winced, hoping he wouldn't reciprocate. "He... He calls me Carol... That's my name... Okay?"
"Carol? Yer kidding me... You don't look like a Carol. I mean... Bambi or Cindy... Definitely a Candy..." Dave snickered, which earned him a slap across the back of head from Peter.
"You talk about my girl like that again, and you'll lose that smart mouth of yours, Malucci... She sings in the band, or I'm going to rearrange your face." Benton growled, cracking his knuckles.
"Cut.. Cut it out okay?? My Gamma doesn't want blood on her carpeting..." Carter stammered, his eyes flitting from Benton to Malucci.
"Fine... I won't kill him... Let's just say, it's real tempting... Okay kid?" Peter snorted menancingly and nodding to the nervous tow head sitting across from him.
"That's okay..." Carter replied in a small voice. Benton was infamous for his bark... and his bite, the general rule was to steer clear of the guy at all costs... Now the guy was in his Gamma's house.
"So... Carter... What's a little snotnosed shit like you doing with a brother like Reuben?" Benton grumbled, snatching up the joint that Dave had been twirling in his fingers, and lighting it. "He went out and fought for his country. What did you do, Johnny??"
"I-I'm too young... I... My brother was drafted. He came back..." Carter stammered nervously, staring at his hands and picking at a hangnail.
"Came back? Couldn't take it!?" Peter snorted and jumped as Candy smacked him.
"Insensitive prick... He was shot..." Candy looked at Johnny with concern. "You okay Johnny?"
"Y-yeah... I... He... I'm fine." Johnny stood suddenly and stumbled from the room, locking himself in the toilet.
"Look what you did, Peter... You scared the kid... Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?" Candy said tearfully, getting up and banging on the door. "Johnny? You okay?"
Peter rolled his eyes and continued puffing away on the cigarette. "So... Marky... You happy with than Jen of yours? I hear she gives some fine head..." He smirked, watching Mark pale and glare at him.
Dave looked at the scene before him, with the phonebook in his lap and the phone in his hand. Screw Benton... It was time to move onto the next sap. Doug Ross.