Disclaimer: I don't know Tony Slattery, I have never met the
man - more is my misfortune. This story is an act of fiction - almost pure
fiction. Some things are taken from reality...not Tony Slattery's reality. His
reality is something I do not happen to be a part of and he thus not a part of
mine. They are taken from things said to me by people, things I have read and
most importantly things I have felt. We all know the saying - don't believe
anything you hear and only half of what you read. Pay heed to that warning!!
Many people will write lustful stories but I have decided to go with a
non-sexual aspect *no comments from the peanut gallery please*. The other
characters in this story are all fictitious with slight real basis...eg. a
name! Other than that they were created out of my own head. Also the story is
set over a period of a couple of months cause I wanted to add some detail. I
realise that in reality this is a story that should span some years but
again...this isn't reality - it also isn't a telemovie script *g*. Some people
may find this story disturbing and not to their liking. However no one is
forcing them to read it. Many details, like those of the books, are taken
purely by me spinning around the room and looking at my bookshelf for inspiration.
If this story genuinely offends any person please feel free to e-mail
me and I will consider removing it. Otherwise please enjoy and feel free to
comment - also via e-mail.
Chaos and the Sun (aka corny title)
A
genuine piece of Occy fiction
Tony scratched his arm and looked around.
He was early...there was nothing new about that. "After all," he told
himself "I don't have anything better to do...I never have anything better
to do"
He shook his head in a vain effort to try
and clear his thoughts. He could feel his pocket burning and tried to ignore
it. His thoughts were like so many voices telling him what to do and where...it
was confusing and he didn't want to listen to them right now.
He noticed a short plump blond
woman...one of those people who look 20 one minute and 50 the next...staring at
him
He shook his head one more time
"May I help you?" he asked
relieved that his voice betrayed none of his internal turmoil.
"A-a-re - y-y-ou T-t-ony
S-s-lattery?" she stammered quickly
He grinned...ahhh a fan, the burning
subsided slightly but he was still well aware of what he had in his pocket
"Yes, yes I am...how may I help
you."
"S-s-omeone t-t-old m-m-e t-t-hat
t-t-he c-c-ar o-o-utside w-w-as y-y-ours"
The smile disappeared from Tony's face
"Yes yes its is" he said we
dead gravity
"WellIthinkIjusthityourcar" she
blurted
"Shit" the colour drained away
from his face. He bolted outside already groaning before he saw his car.
"Oh man"
On the inside his raven black BMW 318i
housed beautiful tan leather seats...on the outside deep scratches. It looked
as if someone had tried to draw sports stripes with a chainsaw
"Oh God" he cried "Oh my
fucking god"
He turned around and looked at the cars
assailant. Where she had been on the verge of tears she was now bawling. Tony
took a deep breath and let it out slowly...then she hit him with the final
punch
"My insurance won't cover this"
she wept
Tony could feel himself lose balance but
he took another deep breath "must keep smiling...the doctor said I have to
keep smiling" He remembered his pocket and soon steadied himself, after
all what could he do...take this woman to court? He thought about it for a
split second and caught a view of her car...a yellow withered old rustbucket
with a "baby on board" sign stuck on the back window. It also seemed
to have some fairly new BLACK sporting stripes down one side. He sighed
"Well I can't really think of what
we can do" he said checking his watch "I need to be at work...leave
your number with me and we'll see what we can arrange"
The woman breathed a visible sigh of
relief
Tony took her details and walked back
into the studio pulled the bottle out of his pocket and took two...three...four
pills out - no need for water. By the time he returned the crew was already
setting up for the days taping. He looked at the running sheet.
"Whose Line Is It Anyway"
Greg Proops
Ryan Stiles
Colin Mochrie
Tony Slattery
He didn't bother to read any further...this
was old hat to him...he just wanted to know who would be at the days taping.
When he read the list he groaned
"3 foreigners and me. It's always
the same" he sighed
Tony looked at his watch...it was about
time for make-up so he made his way over. The make-up artist was already hard
at work spraying Greg's hair so it wouldn't move - not even in a hurricane.
"Well you wont need a bike helmet
tonight" Tony grinned hoping he sounded more cheerful than he felt - when
were those pills going to kick in??
Greg slapped him less than lightly on the
leg
"Ouch"
"You deserved it"
"Yes...but ouch!!"
They both laughed. The make-up lady was
used to these shenanigans and she also knew she didn't have to tolerate them,
"Ok Greg you're
done...Tony...sit"
Obediently Greg exited the make-up chair
and Tony replaced him.
As she started to apply his make-up Tony
looked in the mirror. What was he seeing? He didn't know...did he want to see
it? He didn't know. He sighed and relaxed while she finished his face.
"There you go" she smiled at
him
"Thanks" he said absentmindedly
and walked away.
"10 minutes....10 minutes"
someone called running by
Tony followed his instincts and sat down
in the last chair to the right of screen. He'd let Ryan and Colin sit together
and of course Greg would be near Clive. This was going to be an easy
straightforward show...they were all well skilled hopefully he wouldn't have to
think too hard. The pills started to work he could feel his head clearing and
the useless thoughts drifting away. He had a job to do and the wonder drugs
were working. Clive came by to talk to each of the players and Tony knew what
he would say, well not say, he just had this look for Tony nowadays a look that
scared Tony and made him feel like he was doing something wrong, but what's so
wrong about trying to make yourself feel better??
The show went off without a hitch Tony
even thought he'd been mildly amusing, a good feeling considering the event of
recent days...weeks...months.
He took some of the makeup off, it was
horrible stuff after a couple of hours and changed his clothes. He was in
desperate need of a shower but that could wait till he got home...he just
wanted to get the hell out of there, the drugs were wearing off and everyone
being so cheery was grating on his nerves. With barely a word he left the
building and got into his car, trying not to look at scratches down its side.
He looked in his mirrors, he was fairly lucid, he could drive home easily he'd
done so in much worse situations. Tony tried to think of the best way to avoid
the police and started driving. It would take him an extra 10 mins to get home
but it was worth it.
Tony lay on the bed facing the ceiling he
could see the cracks starting to form. They were very small now, but once
they'd never been and soon they would be too big to be ignored...but for now
they - like he - were just there! He rolled over and faced the wall. It was
bare...he didn't see the need to decorate it after all this wasn't home, this
was
"This is sill old man," he said
to himself "you're crying because you're semi-successful, living in
Still Tony knew he was lying to himself -
he was crying because he was alone, not just in the apartment but alone in
Well since he'd let one tear do why not a
whole flood? Tony looked around to make sure he was alone, he always did this -
it was habit more than paranoia, and let the tears run freely.
When he woke up Tony could feel the
staleness of the pillow and the crustiness in his eyes. He must have cried
himself right to sleep last night. The phone rang - he ignored it, it was the
first time he ignored it nut not the last. It wasn't that he didn't want to
answer it but rather that he didn't care enough to.
He turned over and realised he was still
in his suit from yesterday and that he smelt fairly rancid. He didn't care so
much about his smell but maybe a shower would make him feel better. He went to
the bathroom and took his clothes off - not before making sure there was a
clean towel in there. Clean...clean...there was so much to clean...he didn't
care. Tony turned the water on just a little bit too hot but stepped in anyway.
The look of pain was obvious on his face but perhaps the hot water would make
him clean. He stepped out of the shower and looked in the mirror - he didn't
look much different, just a little more red than usual. He sighed and wrapped
the towel around him. He looked in the mirror one more time, flicked his hair
back and smiled - no that wasn't working for him either. It did something to
some people but he just couldn't see it. Maybe another pill would make him feel
better. He counted them out one...two...three...four...five....six.
"That should do it" he said
with no conviction
He took them this time with a glass of
guava juice - it tasted like shit but someone told him it was good for him.
He turned on his answering machine - he
wasn't going to answer any calls today. There was one message from the night
before. Had the phone rung? He couldn't remember.
He decided to ignore it for now it
couldn't have been that important - they only rang once.
He turned the TV on and then quickly
off...there couldn't possibly be something he wanted to watch. Tony realised he
was still in his towel and thought it was perhaps a good idea to get dressed,
though he didn't have any appointments. Slowly he dressed in jeans and a
t-shirt...after all why not be comfortable outwardly at least.
Tony sat down on the lounge. He looked at
the clock which flashed
As soon as the door was open Clive barged
in
"Where the hell did you go
yesterday? I told you I needed to talk to you!!" he spluttered
Tony hadn't felt like talking to him yesterday
and he didn't feel like talking today but he seemed to have little choice.
"What can I do for you?" he
asked keeping his voice steady and sober he hoped.
"Don't pull that shit with me Tony.
What is up with you?" he asked
"Nothing, nothing" Tony tried
to smile reassuringly
"Nothing? Bullshit!! I know all
about you and your drugs and if you don't do something soon they'll be the end
of your career - and possibly the end of you. Now I wasn't meant to tell you
this but they're thinking of not asking you back to the show" Clive
finished looking at Tony worried that it hadn't sunk it
It had...but not in the way he had
intended.
"I understand" Tony said slowly
"Thank you for you concern Clive...but there's no need...I'm fine, I know
what I'm doing"
He ushered Clive to the door...what the
hell did he think he was doing coming in and trying to run his life. He could
very well go and get stuffed.
"Good bye Clive" he said
slamming the door in the older mans face
"What the hell? They were going to
fire him?" That's all he needed...life was just perfect. Tony collapsed on
the couch but the tears didn't come. The pain was throbbing around his head
like a halo of despair. He stared into nothing for an endless amount of time.
Suddenly he got up and started running around the apartment throwing things
down if they were within arms length. He kicked at the walls and screamed at
the ceiling
"WHY? WHY?
WWWWWHHHHHHYYYYYYYY?"
Tony wasn't normally a person who felt
sorry for himself but sometimes even the most Stoic need to let go and hell he
was an actor...he could afford to let go and blame it on
acting...acting...bullshit...he wasn't an actor...he was a light entertainment
personality who by chance had been in a couple of movies. Normally this didn't
bother him...but right now it did. He tore around the room trying to hurt
inanimate objects...finally collapsing on the bed in a bubbling mess.
He stayed there for what seemed like
days, and probably was. He had not need to go to the toilet, no need to eat, no
need to move. He had no need to exist...but he wasn't suicidal...he just was.
Tony shook the bottle...he was getting
low...he needed a new script...where was there a doctor he hadn't seen? Or
perhaps he could go back to the man who first gave the pills to him...after all
he seemed to have fairly loose ideas about what to give to who.
He got up showered and dressed. This was
worth the effort...the pills didn't make the pain go away but they dulled the
sensation and made his head clear. He struggled out of the building into the
blinding light. Although it was a typical
The meeting with the doctor was fairly
straightforward but left Tony out of pocket to the tune of 5000 pounds. The
pills were new ones - stronger the doctor had said. Tony had been only too
happy to try something that would work longer, keep him sane longer and he
seemed to have enough to help him through and keep him going for a long time to
come.
"Through what?" he thought out
loud opening his car and once again groaning about the scratches all over it.
"First sign of madness" a voice
said
Tony shook his head "What?"
"Talking to yourself is the first
sign of madness" the voice said
"And hearing voices is the
second?" he asked bemused
The voice giggled and someone tapped him
on the back.
Tony turned around and came face to face
with a girl who couldn't have been older than 17. She giggled again and Tony
couldn't help but smile. He perhaps hadn't been that bubbly at her age but
there sure had been more optimism.
"Oh well" she said "at
least if the voices in your head keep you company you'll never be alone"
Tony managed a tense smile. This
conversation was not one he wanted to have right now...especially not with a
stranger...especially not with a stranger who was a child
"I have to go now" he said
She smiled "hey it isn't that bad is
it?"
His eyes fell...was his disguise really
that penetrable?
"No, I guess not" he said
trying to make his smile more genuine.
"Good" she said
They heard a voice calling across the
grounds of the hospital
"Oh that'll be for me...I'm probably
due for something or another" she sighed and turned away. As an after
thought she turned back "Don't forget you're never alone - bye" and
with that she trotted off.
Tony got into the car...he'd taken 6
pills before he left the doctors office and now they were starting to work. All
of a sudden the haze lifted again and he felt like he could do anything.
"If only it'll last" he prayed
driving off towards the apartment.
It was
The bright lights of the supermarket
didn't bother him like they usually did and the shopping seemed to go quickly.
Still riding on his euphoric state of mind Tony rode the trolley through the isles
getting strange looks from some of the older customers and giggles from some of
the others. He didn't care. He steered his trolley over to the checkout and
dismounted perfectly. The cashier gave him a funny look but decided against
saying anything and checked his items. Tony rode the trolley out of the market
and straight into the side of his car
"Who cares" He laughed
"it's already got that many scratches."
He got into the car and headed for the
apartment one more time
"Food food food " he sang to himself
as he headed away from the bright lights and confused people "I'm going to
eat some food."
"Well Tony that was a meal well
done" he said to himself finished off the last morsels of shepherd's pie-
one of the few dishes he could make with the ingredients he had bought - next
time he was taking a shopping list!
He sat back at the table and looked
around. This was one of the times he regretted not sharing his life with anyone
else, an after dinner conversation would have capped off his night. But he knew
he was too unstable to hold onto a proper relationship - he didn't want to hurt
anyone especially himself so better to steer clear of that part of life, for
now at least. He gathered the dirty dishes and turned on the hot water. Then it
hit him. It came from the middle of his stomach and rose deep into the back of
his head exploded out of his mouth as a hysterical giggle. Once he started Tony
couldn't stop...he laughed till it hurt, till tears welled in his eyes and they
flooded out started as a little stream and erupting into a raging torrent. The
water still running he collapsed on the floor and curled up on his side crying.
"It hurttttttttttts" he
screamed on the inside
But he couldn't feel anything, he didn't
want to feel anything all he wanted to do was cry and laugh and cry and kick
out and never move again and never stop and run away and run to something, go
with a purpose, go without. He needed to escape his body and his mind, they
were holding him down crushing him under the weight of his own desperation. His
soul was struggling for breath and eventually so was Tony. Soon the crying
subsided and he just lay there. It was dark now, the sun had gone away for
evening but it would be back...one of the only two constants he could think
of...the sun...and chaos. He could hear water running and realised that the tap
was still on. Standing up he dusted himself off and got on with the job of
washing the dishes.
One day passed...then two...then three
and six and nine...then a month then two. Every day was more or less the same
as the others. Some days he ate some he didn't. That was the only thing that
made any day different from the one before and the fits, once they'd happened
once Tony was sure that they would happen again and they did, and he didn't
fight them. And of course he visited his parents, the didn't need to share this
pain they'd already done so much for him. Most days the curtains in the
apartment remained drawn, he didn't want to see the sun. Tony looked in the
corner where the letters piled one on top of the other.
"The pile is neat...that matters
doesn't it?" he asked the wall.
He flicked the light switch on and
remembered...they had cut the electricity off, it didn't matter. He went to the
shelf and looked over a stack of books that reeked of literature. There was
more Bronte on that shelf then in their own home in 1862. 1984...Angela's
Ashes....The Divine Comedy - all charmingly grotesque pieces of work that he
simply could not stomach. Tony finally decided on a book and pulled out a
lovely leather-bound book that smelt of dust and age. He lit a candle and sat
on the sofa. Had he been paying attention Tony would have seen the beauty of
the scene, but for some time now he had lived in a tunnel visioned world of his
own despair, even talking to himself to break the silence was something he did
rarely. He opened the book carefully with the gentle caress of a lover awaking
their partner from a long and deserved sleep. He chuckled to himself when he
realised which book he had taken out...one of the few he still had from
childhood "Black Beauty."
"Ahhh pure escapism" he sighed
and absorbed himself in the book. For two hours Tony was elsewhere his soul
allowed to wander free through the paddocks with Beauty and Ginger.
"Oh well I'd better take some
pills" he said to the book putting it down.
He went over to the bottle and at once
saw that it was empty. Rather than the rage and disappointment that usually
haunted him Tony felt relief overwhelm him. He sat back and for the first time
in as long as he could remember a genuine smile ran itself across his face. He
got up and went to the window without hesitation tearing away the curtains.
Chaos had reigned long enough why the hell not let his other constant back into
his life. Tony's eyes caught the huge pile of mail in the corner and he smiled
again.
"I guess I'd better get onto that
then" he said picking up the letter the top of the pile. "And why not
start with fan mail?"
He opened the letter with a letter opener,
something he thought he would never in his life use, and read.
"Dear Mr Slattery,
I just turned 21 and I wanted to thank
you for helping me get there. Whether you believe it or not, watching you on
television is one of the few things that had kept me going through some
terribly difficult times..."