Apr 6, 2013
What is that Sisters of Mercy bassist always looking at?
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What is that Sisters of Mercy bassist always looking at?
the long one that's not even funny
::knock knock::
/silence/
::knock knock::
Eldergoth: Go away.
Romantic: Open the door. Its been weeks since anyone has heard from you, and more than a month since anyone has seen you.
Eldergoth: I'm sorry, really, I'm just too tired. Go away. ... please...
Perky: We're really worried about you. Just let us in.
/silence/
Postpunker: Oh my god, this is worse than I thought...
Eldergoth: What the- how the hell did you get in here!
Postpunker: Your window was broken.
Eldergoth: NO IT WASN'T!
Posterpunker: Ok, I broke your window.
Eldergoth: /from under blankets/ Well, I'm alive, just sick. Thank you, I'll feel better soon, I'm sure.
Postpunker: You have clearly been laying on your couch for days, living off of crackers and coffee. What is this? Labrynth? The Crow? The Princess Bride? My dead god, I need back up. /opens front door/
Perky: Oh, honey, oh no! I'm taking Pornography and Disintegration, somebody find the Joy Division, quick!
Eldergoth: No, don't look at me, go away. I'm really sick. My stomach is killing me.
Perky: I brought you you tea and soup! Now where's your laundry room? This place is a mess..
Eldergoth: I'm fine, thank you. Just leave tea and let me rest.
Postpunker: You have rested, its time to take care of yourself. I know your sad that Batcave is gone and you don't really know how to talk about what you're feeling or dealing with, but Batcave will come back and we're here now.
Eldergoth: I'm just sick, I just need to rest here...
Romantic: How long have you been on this couch under these blankets? Its ok to fall down, but you can't just give up. You have to fight. I don't want to come to your house and you be really gone.
Eldergoth: I just don't want to this anymore, I don't want to be here...
Romantic: We're here.
Eldergoth: Oh come on, don't fucking guilt trip me. I'll go out tomorrow; I promise.
Romantic: We're here.
Eldergoth: I know, I know, I'm sorry I fucked up again! I'm sorry I worried you, I ... I don't know... I don't know what is wrong or what to do... I just want to sleep and not...
Romantic: We're here.
Eldergoth: Ok, alright. I'll do what you want. I'll let you help me... I'm sorry... I-
Postpunker: Drink your tea, have some soup. We'll put on The Holy Grail and make a Dr.s appointment to get you to stop being such a fucking awful stereotype.
Eldergoth: Thanks, assholes. I hate you a lot less than usual, and that's all your getting from me.
Perky: GROUP HUGGGG!!
Eldergoth: Kay, hating you just a little more.
Com-emo-tion at the local music store.
Babybat: Wow! Tinderbox on vinyl!
Eldergoth: STOP! Do you have a record player?
Babybat: Well, no, but I want to get one.
Eldergoth: My child, DON'T! ::shakes by shoulders:: Don't go down that road!
Postpunker: Unless you're a trust fund baby, or you actually stop at one potato chip.
Babybat: AH!
Batcave: Hiss!
Postpunker: Aw, common guys! I'm sorry for being a jerk. Let's just have a drama-free scene, right?
Eldergoth: Oh sure. Just like you guys said last week, and the week before that, and since time immemorial. It always works too.
Postpunker: What are you guys looking for? I can help you out.
: hunnngh
Postpunker: Batcave, honestly, I never understand what you're saying.
Batcave: Dinga dinga dang a dinga dong ding dong!
Postpuner: Not better.
: ehhhhhh weh-hehh!
Eldergoth: The Hell is that? I leak or something?
Perky: Over there! Is that... is that a Goth? A Mallgoth? A camp counselor?! I'm so confused!
Postpunker: I-I-I need to go. ::Puts on headphones:: Have fun being kind and open-minded, Elder.
Eldergoth: Curses!
Emokid: Oh woa, aaaaaaaaa! Ehhhgn.
Babybat: What's wrong?
Emokid: Please don't worry about me, it only hurts when I breathe.
Eldergoth: Don't tell me, kid, the girl you like but have never even talked to in your Art class doesn't sit at the same lunch table as you and it's making you suicidal? Oh, she's in your Geometry class? Well, then that changes everything. How can I continue enjoying my day when such a tragedy is unfolding before me?
StoreOwner: Don't harass my customers Elder. I don't want to throw you in the garbage bin again.
Eldergoth: /muttering/ Why don't you just look like Rob Halford more...
StoreOwner: WHAT?!
Eldergoth: Nothing, Sir. I won't bother him. I couldn't really say or do anything he hasn't done to himself already anyway.
Emokid: I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself. The truth is you could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt.
Eldergoth: Well, now THAT is considerate. And most teenagers are so rude today! See, Babybat, a big difference between us and them is that we should be having *fun*. Read books you love, watch movies you love, wear clothing you love, obsess over things that are fantastic, romantic, intellectual, dark, even horrifying, just as long as they make you happy.
Emokid: There is no happy here, there is no happy here.
Eldergoth: It's ok to be bitchy like me, or cheery like Perky, even gripped by depression sometimes like postpunker, mania like Batcave, or heartache like Romantic. Be yourself, but promise me you'll leave the scene as soon as it stops making your life better.
Babybat: That makes sense. I promise. Hug?
Eldergoth: Um, no I don't really... oh, ok you're doing it anyway. Aw, Batcave, mmm you smell like burning leaves. Aw, I guess I don't always hate you guys.
Batcave: Purr!
Emokid: And if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.
Eldergoth: Yeeeah. So over here is The Bolshoi who no one- Wait. A. Minute. That is a SMITH'S LYRIC YOU LITTLE SON OF BITCH! ::starts choking Emokid::
Emokid: Igk deserzz thisgk - CACHK
StoreOwner: That's it! Back in the trash until you learn to behave!
Eldergoth: Oh shit! I BUY A THIRD OF YOUR MERCHANDISE, JUDAS PRIEST! Heels, don't break on me now! ::runs out::
Emokid: I am finally seeing that I was the one worth leaving
Babybat: Dude, inner-monologue- learn to use it.
Showdown at da club: Part 2
When we last left the Goths they were being harassed into dramatic fainting by Postpunker, who had lost utterly lost his sense of humour. We rejoin them at the patio outside The Club where Postpunker is still rampaging, while Batcave has run inside for help.
Postpunker: Who else can I destroy? You! Rivethead! A Nine Inch Nails shirt, really?
Rivethead: Nothing is wrong with Nine Inch Nails. Trent Reznor is a genius, and you KNOW I listen to a lot more than just the one band on my shirt.
Postpunker: Ha ha! But you see, my wannabe-purist, Nine Inch Nails is NOT industrial! More like Industrial-influenced ALTERNATIVE ROCK! Buahaha! Let's look at the patches on your jacket, shall we? Oh, Rammstein? I liked it the first time when it had more irony and artistic merit and was called LAIBACH! Have you even HEARD of Throbbing Gristle?! Why don't you just go Listen to Lincoln Park!
Rivethead: Eh... no way... blaaahhhh-fuckyouall-eghk! /faints/
Perky: Oh my sparkles! I think it just you and me, Cyber.
Cyber: Get behind me, Perky I think I can take him.
Postpunker: Oh, no no no. I do love your noble gesture- a sweet note to go out on- but I'm saving YOU for last. I can hardly wait! I'll go through every Goth in this place until NO ONE has ANY fun ANY more! Mua ha ha! Now, you! Merry Sunshine in the Emily Autumn shirt-
Batcave: Caw! Caw! Caw!
Postpunker: Get out of here, Batcave. I don't want to destroy you too.
Batcave: Ah Ah ahah-oh-ahah! Hiss!
Postpunker: What? Who have your brought with you? No matter. No one could possibly know more about music than me!
ThePersonWhoKnowsMoreAboutMusic: Except me!
Postpunker: My dead god! Who are you?! Some enchantress?
Cyber: Of course! Why didn't I think of it! She's **the DJ**!
Perky: Oooooooooo, **The DJ**!
TheDJ: Yes, it is I, come out to stop his bitchery-run-amok, and to take my smoke break. Does anyone have a light, btw?
Cyber: Yes! Take them all! Huh huhhuh. You're cool.
TheDJ: Um, thanks. Look, Ian, I'm even older than you. I know it's hard to see things change. It's easy to hate the teenagers who took your scene over because - they're teenagers. A lot of them are probably doing things "wrong" because it's a phase they're going through. That's part of growing up, and you did it too. Other kids are pushing things in new creative directions, and some of those kids will stay in the scene, and if you actually get to know them, they can remind you how much fun and love YOU used to have in your heart. It's fine to complain, as long as you have a sense of humour about the scene, and yourself.
Postpunker: No. It's too late for me. I have to finish what I started. I'm too far gone for you to stop me.
TheDJ: So be it. Ian, CBGB's is closed, Johnny Rotten, and Iggy Pop have done commercials for butter and insurance respectively, David Byrne sang with Homer Simpson, and Andrew Eldritch hates you. Like YOU, personally.
Andrew Eldritch: I can't believe you love This Corrosion, it's soooo over played. Why not just listen to Evanescence? Please kill yourself, for both our sakes.
Postpunker: Oh, my tiny heart! Curse you, Eld-wretch! You win. I'm done for! I'll just go jump off the roof now.
TheDJ: No, no. Here- take this gift from me and I think you'll find your broken heart nicely mended, my child. Now quit fucking around and get off the floor guys. It's closing time. ::lights turn on::
Postpunker: What is this? Oh... I... I can't believe it. Oh, thank you.
Eldergoth: We're suddenly miraculously revived! Who was that goddess?
Perky: It was **The DJ**!
All: Oooooo, **The DJ**!
Bouncer: Seriously y'all got to get the fuck out of here.
Eldergoth: /standing up with others/ You feel better, Ian?
Postpunker: Yeah, completely. I'm sorry I was such a dick. It's all over now, I promise.
Eldergoth: What did she give you that fixed everything? A drug, a spell, money, vampire blood?
Victorian: What? Where?!
Postpunker: No. Look. It's a mix tape. A real mix tape. Just for me. It has all my favourite songs; the track list is handwritten on the back. She titled it, "Just turn on with me, and you're not alone."
Eldergoth: Aww, mixtape!
Bouncer: Yeah, aw. NOW GET OUT OR I'M CALLING THE COPS!
Showdown at da club: Part 1
Eldergoth: Carl! Carl, over here where we can actually hear each other. CARL! /sigh Someone else say it because I'm not.
Perky: Sir Lysander! Sit out on the porch with us!
Eldergoth: Shit, Perky, I meant call him "Victorian"! Do you know how much of my work you've just undone? So how did your date with Ethereal go?
Victorian: And a fine evening to you all. Not well, Elder. It was all the very most charming occasion until I bestowed upon her a most singularly splendid corset.
Eldergoth: Uh oh.
Victorian: Indeed. She threw it into a fire, and then went frolicking into the woods singing something about how I can't tether her. /sigh/ It just feels like we're too far apart.
Eldergoth: Yeah, like three Centuries apart I would say.
Victorian: Yeah, huh. How are you and PostPunker doing then? Well I hope?
Eldergoth: Eh... /glances at Batcave/
Batcave: /GLARES BACK/
Eldergoth: No, no, that's all over. Poor Ian. The world has just gotten to him lately. He's been losing his sense of humour and I'm afraid our brief star-crossed affair might have pushed him over the edge.
Batcave: Grrrrrrr!!
Eldergoth: Oh shazbot! What is he doing here?! He said he would never come back! Hide me!
Babybat: Shazbot?
Eldergoth: What? I can have outside interests.
Postpunker: Hello, Elder. Hiding in your little pet's GothHawk? You continue to disappoint me.
Eldergoth: Here, Batsie, I found your bone barrette! Oh, Ian I didn't see you come in. Heh heh.
Postpunker: Nice Cure shirt, Mallgoth. Disintegration, what a surprise. Don't tell me, Lovesong is your favourite?
Perkybat: Well yes but, I have other albums by The Cure...
Postpunker: Let me guess: a 'Best of'?
Perky: No, I have Staring at the Sea.
Postpunker: HA! Fucking Mallgoth. Go listen to My Chemical Romance and save us all a headache.
Eldergoth: Stop it! Perky you are NOT posuer, even if you are cheery. Ian, Robert Smith wrote that song to Mary as a Wedding gift! I don't care how popular it is or who covered it, it's still precious.
Perky: /takes deep breath/ Oh, thank you, Elder. Postpunker: You... you took that child's side against ME? How COULD you?
Cybergoth: Sup, guys! You ok, Perky? Rivethead's inside getting the next round. Hey who is this guy? Someone's accountant? A computer programmer to work on the display that went out?
Batcave: Reeheehee!
Eldergoth: No, no, leave him alone! You don't understand what it like to be as old as we are-
Victorian: Ah yes. Time marches on, wars change the the world map- redrawing it's borders in blood, languages evolve, women walk around in trousers like George Sand!
Postpunker: Carl, if you're so committed being Victorian, why don't you live in a rat-infested apartment with 15 immigrants, work 60 hours a week at a factory, contract tuberculosis and DIE in a polluted gutter while someone throws their chamberpot out the window?!
Eldergoth: Woa! Ian, pull yourself together! You're going over to the even-darker-than-usual side!
Postpunker: NO! They should be wretched like me! They don't know anything! They're all poseurs!
Cyber: He's out of control! Can't you stop him, Elder?
Eldergoth: I'm afraid not. Like many PostPunk fans his only true love is music, and he knows... more-about... mu-muh-muuuuu-mus-
Cyber: HE KNOWS MORE ABOUT MUSIC THAN YOU?! But, you're our last hope!
Eldergoth: No. ::cough:: There is another. The pain of admitting someone knows, you know, has made me weak! ::cough/hack::
Babybat: Well, who is it?!
Eldergoth: There... /points inside/ she... HEAUHH!/faints/
Postpunker: So you like Joy Division, Mallgoth #2? Let me guess, you just got have a "Love Will Tear Us Apart" tattoo?
Babybat: /covers arm/
Postpunker: Do you like Warsaw? Oh, never heard of them? What about New Order?
Babybat: I like Blue Monday! But, what do they have to do with Joy Division?
Postpunker: HA HA HA! Why don't you just listen to Brittany Spears?!
Babybat: Ahhhh! /faints/
Batcave: Grr! Ah-ahah arrrroooo! /runs away/
Victorian: She said ::cough cough:: she's... getting the... EEEEEHHHHHHgggkkkk! /faints/
Rivethead: /sigh/ Sometimes I fucking hate you guys.
Downtown Alt. Clothing Shop
Eldergoth: This is a great place to buy fun, unique pieces. Thrift stores are great too. They take a lot more patience, and alterations at times, but even if you get secondhand clothes custom-tailored, it's still at least half the price of mall stuff.
Babybat: /takes notes/
Batcave: Aaah-oooo!
Eldergoth: Yes, dear, those coffin earrings are meant for you, but that Christian Death shirt... Rozz the noose... it's just poor taste.
Batcave: Rrrrow!
Eldergoth: I don't care if other deathrockers wear it, it's bad form.
Batcave: Rrr.
Babybat: I've never seen so many cool things in my life. I think I'm in love! Can you marry a store? It's all so much, I... I... I
Eldrergoth: It's alright. Sit down. Hmm, I remember when I actually appreciated this city's scene, before I felt entitled enough to always complain about it.
Ethereal: /floats upstairs from basement/
Babybat: AH! A GHOST!
Ethereal: (in a tiny echoing voice) Perhaps, more real, on this plain, than those who hurry their death.
Eldergoth: Good afternoon, Ethereal. Where DID you get these pointy boots?!
Ethereal: Places, spinning, the Moon shows, where am I?
Cyber: Hey, guys. Listen, Babybat, don't you want ME to show you around sometime? Haven't you noticed all the places Eldergoth takes you to should come with a senior citizen discount?
Eldergoth: HEY!
Cyber: Let me take you out sometime and show you how the new generation does it. I don't want you to think you have to either have tea with gramps over there or be a mallgoth, there are so many other choices.
Eldergoth: NOW you've done it! Thanks a lot, Back to the Future!
Cyber: Oh shit! I didn't mean to say that name! I'm sorry- aaaahhhh!
Mallgoff: /bursts in/ HEY, GUYS!
Ethereal: Ooooooohhhh, powers, darkness, spells, yes! I hold it. The ancients told /floats to basement/
Mallgoff: 45 Grave, what's that? Where my Slipknot shirts at, right guys? Hey! Wanna see me cut myself with this razor?
Eldergoth: Oh yes, if only it weren't a safety razor.
Ethereal: /returns with dusty book/ Sita, Ostara, Freya, and Persephone bring about his next season dramatic and speedily.
Mallgansta: Goths?! Pfft. Y'all bettah check yoself, 'for you wreck yoselfs. Yo, man, yo! Wiggity!
Eldergoth: Hey, gangster, you terrify us. You better get out of here before we call the authorities.
Mallgansta: Oh snap, hate-ah! I gotta ghost, son! BLING BLING! Ding dong, yo! Ding Dong! PEACE!
Babybat: What just happened?
Eldergoth: Mallrats go through many ridiculous stereotypes and do none well. I think Ethereal tried to precipitate his moving on to another phase. Anyhow, now he's someone else's problem until he dies in a methlab explosion or of a heart attack working at a call center. Oh christcrackers, he's following that poor woman into a vegan co-op. She's not "gangster" just because she has dreadlocks, you stupid fuck!
Babybat: The horror, the horror...