Wackos to Obliterate: Book Two (Chapter 12)

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Even though future performances scheduled by the Mardens had been canceled, the MP3 was selling very well and an online streamed audio of the song － with a montage of old pictures and video of the group compiled to accompany it － had surpassed one million clicks. What had started as something regional and intended to help with promoting a statewide legalization effort had ballooned to national and even international proportions. Unfortunately, it came too late to prevent foreclosure on the Mars’ house; still it provided some hope for brighter prospects than homelessness and indigence.

Having little to keep them rooted in the same town, Trink and Madelyn had planned to go someplace more central to the music industry, but Brad and Chelsea suggested they move in with them for a short while since there was more than enough space and since Brad kept some hope they could develop something out of their collaboration.

In addition to TRinket-related business, it turned out that Brad and Chelsea had an affinity for Trink and Madelyn; no doubt, since both were childless, music-oriented, and cultivation/business-obsessed households. Specifically, Chelsea was impressed at how knowledgeable Madelyn was about growing techniques and Brad came to realize how her experience as a manager might be utilized to help energize the legalization movement.

In the couple of weeks after they received the foreclosure notice on their house, both Brad and Clive advised it would be better to sell the house through a short sale since the lender would know all about the ‘Forest-in-the-Trees’ fraud they suffered; thereby, they could get sale approval with the lender forgiving the difference. The short sale ended up being a good move since they were able to sell the house for slightly less than what they owed. Clive had introduced them to some people who specialized in flipping homes of ‘known’ entities (celebrities). Unfortunately, to make the sale, they had to keep some of their belongings in the house since it was easier to flip a house that contained memorabilia; therefore, some gold records and other TRinket artifacts remained.

Initially, Brad thought they could stop the foreclosure, but found it would be economically more feasible for the Mars’ household to cut their losses and wait until the recently filed group-action lawsuit against Forest went through litigation. At that time, they were bound to recoup some of their revenue. Unfortunately, the Mars’ home base was lost.

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Sophie sat at Karl’s desk and stared at his monitor while her tall, skinny son stood behind her. “That damn thing is moving up the friggin’ charts,” she said.

“Oh yeah; it’s moving up big time. Don’t be surprised when it hits the Top Ten.”

“Back in the day, the TRinkets rarely charted and certainly never got this high. Frankly, we couldn’t care less. Actually, we would’ve thought we really screwed up if we had.”

“Well, you really screwed up this time. Currently, it’s at Number 15,” Karl said.

“That’s for the U.S. right? How about the U.K.?”

“Who cares? That’s such a tiny market.”

She turned around to face him. “In this business, if you get high in the U.K. in addition to the U.S., you rule internationally.”

He smirked. “In terms of sales, Asia is where you want to make it. Korea and Japan are the markets that matter. They still buy music rather than just record it from a streaming site.”

“The charts, though, are based on sales, right?” she asked, looking back at the screen.

“Yep, which means the song must be getting around. My guess is that the number of people who’ve got it on their phones or MP3 players is probably ten times what you see from sales.”

“I doubt it’s doing very well in Asia. Doesn’t Japan have some of the strictest drug laws?”

“So does Korea, China, and most of the other countries in that part of the world, but still, I bet you make a search and you’ll see that ‘Sensibowl’ is probably selling there as well.”

“As goes GM …” Sophie started, but then paused.

“As General Motors goes, so goes the nation,” Karl said.

She turned around, faced him and held one of his hands. “Damn, I’m proud of you. How come you have such a good memory? I can’t remember jack.”

“Speaking of memory, isn’t it about time to leave? I’ve got a class in less than an hour and you’ve …”

“… got to get to the courthouse. I think the trial resumes at 1:00. If I get there by 12:45, I’ll have enough time to check my equipment. I don’t think any other case used the room since the last session, so my stenograph should still be set up,” she said, stood up and walked to the bathroom down the hall from Karl’s bedroom.

Things have been so much easier since he decided to move back home and complete school at a local university near the county courthouse. Now she no longer had to drive herself as much since he liked to use her car more than the old beater he owned. On the days their schedules were similar, he could drive her to and from work. Also, they could do most of the grocery shopping together.

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Only one person she worked with at the courthouse knew she had been in the TRinkets. This surprised her since many old pictures were plentiful online and just a little over a decade ago, news items were still somewhat frequent concerning the legal tussles, some recycled scandal or musical nostalgia. Either it was that no one at work followed entertainment news or having her hair in a bun, using black-framed glasses instead of contact lenses, and always wearing a pantsuit changed her appearance so much that it rarely came up. Of course, another reason was that she used her real name: Michelle Wilson.

When she agreed to meet up again and record a new song, she was not worried that it may be damaging to her professionally. She had, after all, worked as a court reporter for nearly eight years and had never been cited for any dereliction of duty, which was a far cry from most others employed by the county. She became so secure in her position that she felt a little fame, if it came from a revival of the band, would be a plus for the county – bringing it free advertisement which may help result in it gaining its rank in the nation-wide competition between communities for the most livable location in the U.S. Of course, if the group were able to hit the top of the charts, she would have the option to quit.

All in all, though, she enjoyed her job. It was so different from anything she had done before. It seemed like a long way from the music industry, but actually, being in the TRinkets was what led her to this profession. The legal hassles the band had during the breakup and its aftermath gave her much experience in a courtroom. While having to put up with hours of boring legal argument, she would try to focus on anything that was more stimulating. For her, she was amazed at how diligent and focused the court reporter was throughout the whole process. While most of the lawyers, the police officers, the spectators, jurors, and even the judges often looked more preoccupied and unfocused in this setting, the court reporter would be alert and busy using a strange-looking typewriter, which she found out later was not a typewriter. In addition, she noticed that all the court reporters she had seen were women. Later, of course, she discovered that quite a few men were also in the profession, but the majority was women. Also, she discovered that a university degree was not essential for this line of work, and that the pay scale was decent.

After she had struggled with a solo career and with so many horny club managers and others frequently trying to put a move on her (especially, with her reputation of being a nymphomaniac who craved group sex), she knew she had to change gears if she wanted to guarantee a nurturing environment in which to raise Karl.

During one of the last big cases she went through concerning the TRinkets, she once again focused on the court reporter and actually started chatting with her in the restroom during one of the court recesses. It turned out that the woman was a fan of the group and was more than willing to exchange phone numbers. From there, she discovered that such an occupation might be suitable for her. She soon discovered much of the editing of transcripts could be done from home and she could send the final product electronically. Since most trials take place during school hours, she would be at work outside while Karl was at school. As a result, she would not have to pay so much for either day care or a baby sitter. Once she took a couple of courses online through a trade school and passed the certification tests, she found ready employment; especially in a part of the country with a small black population, but equal opportunity quotas to fill in the public sector.

She soon discovered another benefit to this kind of work: rarely did anyone try to hit on her. Since she did not work in an office, she did not have to socialize there. In the courtroom, she found almost all male lawyers were already married and the few who weren’t were either confirmed bachelors or gay. The police officers were the largest cohort of potential suitors, but they were easy to avoid since she did not want to have a relationship with someone who may incarcerate her for partaking in an occasional reefer. As a person who wanted to stay single, she found this job was much better than trying to eke out a career in music.

Trink had been correct in another thing he said: I am jealous. As she sat down and turned on her stenography machine, her laptop, and her digital recorder, she decided the biggest reason she was still upset with Maddie was not all the crap that came out about royalties and legal hassles, but rather that Trink could find a transsexual more attractive than her. She knew he was sure Karl was his child, but instead of pushing her to admit it and to accept becoming a more conventional family unit, he found love, compassion and companionship with a person whom Michelle just could not bring herself to believe was really a woman; or at least, a person more suitable for him than her. After all, didn’t he feel their subliminal and subconscious connection every time they sang together? Hell, she knew he used to feel it when they had sex together. Maybe he could never accept a real relationship after that group grope.

“All rise. The honorable Judge Napolitano is presiding,” the bailiff said.

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“Hey Ryuj, you want to know where our song is today? Number 12!” Malcolm called out, while checking the latest stats on his tablet.

“I thought you were texting Ackeson Grocery? I really need to know when they want these photos sent.”

“I just finished with that.”

“By the way, since when is it ‘our’ song?”

“Don’t you remember I wrote a couple lines?”

“Yeah, but didn’t you realize those lines weren’t used in the final version?”

“That’s beside the point. My lines gave you inspiration to write the rest of it.”

“Bullshit!

“If it weren’t for my contribution, that song would have never seen the light of day.”

“If you can convince the others you deserve a cut, be my guest. From my experience, you won’t get far. Maddie and Trink always had lawyers who were able to get judges and juries to side with them,” Ryuji said, holding a large d-slr camera and light meter while walking around a table laden with canned goods and packaged food trying to find the right angle and lighting from which to get the best shots.

Malcolm put his tablet down, joined Ryuji at the table, and adjusted the angle of a floodlight. “What’re you going to do when this thing hits the Top 10?”

“No doubt Marden or Maddie will get in touch and try to patch something together. There’s no way they’ll let this wave go by without taking advantage of it; especially, Marden. He’s from the golden age of Surf; he understands waves.”

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Brad did understand waves and saw this one to be reaching tsunami proportions. He wasn’t just thinking about the popularity of the song, but rather about why it was popular. It reminded him a little of the Bob Marley phenomenon in the States. It wasn’t just Reggae that was becoming popular. Eric Clapton had only modest success with a Bob Marley song in 1974. It wasn’t until the album “Rastaman Vibration” in late 1975 and early 1976 that Reggae was widely embraced by American audiences. He was convinced what made that album fresh was the unabashed way it was a songfest for ganja. It showed a lot of Americans marijuana was not just used by anarchist hippies or by experimenting teenagers, but that there was a depth to it in some cultures outside the U.S. mainland; that there were ‘cool’ people who considered it to be sacred and a way to commune with their godhead. It helped pot attain a new level of popular culture. There were others besides the burned-out rock musicians – many of whom had died of drug overdoses – whom used marijuana, but whom moved away from it to toxic substances that resulted in death.

Brad thought this song gave a new dimension to the legalization movement; showing something unique can be made by those who have gone away but have returned with a message: it’s Sensibowl. It’s not just silly kids or burnt-out hippies, but people who’ve gone out into the world and came back to lead with a sound and message that disregards the generational divide. He was convinced Diamond was a great addition and that it would be best to keep Barry from returning. Brad understood that from watching a digital recording of the performance they gave at the rally. The die-hard fans were happy when Barry took the stage, but the audience erupted after Diamond resumed and they played “Sensibowl.”

Perhaps, if there were a way to eliminate Sophie and replace her with a fresh face and a dynamism of the 21st century, like Diamond, then the band could go places and carry legalization with it; not just statewide, but nationally and beyond. After all, current drug laws internationally were institutionalized after WWII when the United States controlled over half the world’s economy. Once marijuana was legal throughout the country, it wouldn’t be too many years until the same occurred in most other countries. It’s only sensible.

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The race up the charts was being watched by all the members, but not all were happy about it; Nils, in particular, felt ambivalent. He enjoyed the short reunion they had, but time back with the band was stressful not only because of the struggles emotionally between Trink and Sophie, but he realized a skeletal problem he suffered in the past had not dissipated. If the song’s popularity forced them to reform, he wondered if he’d be able to handle the physical wear and tear of drumming. He had been worried about Maddie’s control in the business side of the group, also he worried about the message the new song and Marden were trying to promote, but beyond those aspects, the physical strain was probably more than he could take.

Several years after he left the music business he came to the realization that one of the main reasons he had frequently used drugs was pain. Once he quit putting his body through the torture of drumming, he had less pain; less pain resulted in less self-medicating. By that time, however, other factors had an influence on his drug use; namely, reading, meditation, and yoga. Perhaps, the biggest influence was his yoga teacher who eventually became his life partner, with whom he sired two lovely children, which created the situation where it seemed best for the kids to have a drug-free home environment.

Of course, one of his biggest worries was the influence this revival of his earlier life would have on being what the media liked to call a “new-age” preacher. In its social substratum, his reputation was growing due to a message that was holistic and healing. Much like Eckhart Tolle, his message was primarily to help people realize they need to allow consciousness to come from their actions as some had called, “awakened doing.” No doubt the problem with his limbs and upper body existed to demonstrate that a return to drumming was not right for him. In addition, helping to promote the legalization of a substance many people used as a crutch was not awakened doing. Earlier Nils had contacted Barry when he feared that accepting to record with the group may have brought him back under the manipulation of Maddie, where now, he feared the popularity of this new song may destroy the healing environment in which he was currently living. The last thing he wanted was to go back to the harmful existence he had lived and which had almost destroyed him.

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Not surprisingly, Diamond was the most excited about where the song sat in the charts. He tried to pretend he didn’t care or even felt a little disgusted that it was doing so well in the “pop” category. Nonetheless, he was pretty psyched when the manager of one of the bars at which the Dogs played introduced Diamond as being the “sound” in the new hit by the TRinkets.

“He’s right, you know,” Emily said in bed after getting down and dirty.

“That’s bullshit; I only sat in for their regular guitarist, who’s absolutely awesome, by the way.”

“But the crowd went crazy at the rally when you came back and ripped into the new song,” she said as she snuggled up to his naked body under the sheets.

“I’ve got to admit it was quite a rush. The Dogs have never played at such an event before. With the song burning up the charts, there’s got to be another few times we’ll do that, I would think,” he said as he cupped a hand around one of her hefty breasts and gave it a squeeze. She responded by reaching down and pulling on his deflated ax. She could feel it twitch and begin to grow in her hand. She loved being able to coax a response from it so quickly.

“So when do you think you’ll see any royalties? You didn’t get anything up front, but Trink and that Jap bass player said you’d get a cut from the royalties, right?”

“Did you say, Jap? You’re one little racist bitch, aren’t ya?” he said as he moved his hand from her breast to the hand massaging his dick.

“Well, I don’t remember his name,” she said as she squeezed his penis and stroked it.

“You could just say, ‘bass player,’” he said on his way to a full erection.

“I’d rather say fuck me with your big cock.”

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While complying with Emily’s demands, Diamond wondered what would be the best thing for him to do. Should he drop by the Pixie Palace, send an email or give a call? It seemed weird that no one had contacted him. Hell, they almost reached the Top-10! It’d be crazy to let this opportunity pass by. Why the hell was the band so screwed up anyway? You would think that with the money involved, petty personality struggles could be pushed aside. They’ve already reformed and decided to go with Barry instead. If not, what would he do if they wanted him to take over as lead? What’re the guys in the Dogs going to do? Are they just going to sit around and wait for him to jump back and forth between the two bands or what? He knew Dickie and Bowen were pretty pissed off when Jack Rickards said he was the “sound” of the TRinkets. Hell, he’d feel the same way if someone had said something like that about one of them.

“Fuck me Di; oh, fuck me.” Emily made it known to him that she was building to orgasm and hoped he’d come around the same time since she had a tendency to get bored if they didn’t climax together and he just kept pumping it into her. She had experienced multiple orgasms, but rarely. Typically, once she came, it took her quite a lot to get worked up again. Often more than not, she’d get dry and then a little sore. “Oh baby, give me your cum,” she demanded, which he knew meant: ‘get done with it. I want to sleep.’

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Barry was the least directly involved with the new song, but Aiyana could not keep herself from providing him with regular updates as to where it sat in the charts. As both a psychiatrist and a father he understood the motivations for her obsession – who wouldn’t be affected by experiencing your father walk on a stage and start playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band while a crowd of adorning fans went crazy with excitement? Observing “boring” dad transform to star in a matter of seconds was akin to a limousine pulling up in front of your high school and the chauffeur inform you, while surrounded by your friends, that he is to drive you to the mansion of your “real” father, not the poor jerk in whose house you were raised.

“Aren’t you excited?” she asked, over her cell phone, after informing him the song had just hit the Top-10.

“Well, that’s a definite first for the TRinkets,” he said, sitting in his office waiting for his next patient.

“But what’re you going to do about it?”

“As I told you: nothing. Aiyana, I wasn’t involved with that song.”

“You were their guitarist for years.”

“Yes, you said it: ‘were their guitarist’ not ‘are.’”

“That young guy just sat in because you weren’t available,” she repeated the same point she had been making since they flew back to New York after the rally. His office extension started to ring.

“I’ve got to go. My patient arrived.”

“I just thought you’d like to know it reached the Top-10,” she said a little flustered by being cut off so quickly.

“I appreciate the update. Thanks. It’s good news. I’m happy for the band.”

“But …”

“I’ve got to go. See you this evening. I love you.”

“You too; so, what would you like to eat for dinner?”

“I’ll take you out for sushi. We can go to the new Japanese restaurant that opened down the street. I’ll try to be home by seven.”

“Okay,” she said.

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As luck would have it, the phone call was not his secretary telling him that his patient had arrived for her appointment, but instead he had a call from a man named, Toloache.

“That interview you gave the day after the rally has been making its rounds on the internet,” the familiar voice said.

“Really,” Barry said, staring at the painting he had purchased recently, wondering if it would give him a clue in how to get rid of the sinking feeling developing in his stomach.

“No big surprise there, right.”

“I guess not.”

“So, what do you think needs to be done about it?”

“About what: the interview or the song posed to become a mega-hit?” Barry asked.

“You’re a little jealous about that, aren’t you?”

“Just stating the facts.”

“You remember what happened back in the late 70s and early 80s. It took the deaths of Lennon, Marley, Tosh and the Reagan years to clip those wings. Seems like a sort of resurgence, don’t you think?”

“No surprise there, what with the acceptance of medicinal marijuana in almost half the states, legalization in …”

Toloache cut him off. “Bare me the statistics. You know what the bottom line is.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Just letting you know, that’s all.”

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As he listened to his patient drone on, he kept thinking about the conversations with Aiyana and Toloache and the situation overall. Even Nils had called him a couple of days ago. He was as confused as Nils on what to do next. They were not as confused years ago when Herb decided to cut the knot. At that time, Barry and Nils both knew there had to be a change since it was clear the creative phase of the band was over. When it did come, however, Barry was more prepared than Nils.

In terms of what went down, he never was clear how much Nils knew, but Barry understood Nils was opposed to a successful rejuvenation and he was sure Nils was convinced it was not healthy for either of them to have it promote the legalization movement. He was convinced that Nils knew nothing about Toloache, but he wasn’t sure how much Nils knew about Herbie. A smile formed as he recalled he had said, “how ironic” after Trink told him they were facing bankruptcy because of the ‘Forest-in-the-Trees’ debacle.

“What is it Doctor?” his patient asked.

He turned his gaze from the abstract painting to the middle-aged, white woman lying on the leather couch and asked, “What is what?”

“You’re smiling,” she explained, finding it unusual that Dr. Motege could smile while she described being raped by her older brother when she was twelve.

Barry wanted to repeat an old Frank Zappa lyric about a sexually-active, thirteen-year-old girl, but instead he said: “I thought it would relax you while you described such a terrible time in your life. I’m sorry. Please continue.”

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Links to the previous chapters of Book Two

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11

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Copyright (©) by Kenneth Wayne