The Hairy Porter and the Bed Chamber of Secrets

Scene 2 - Skeletor's Dick

Angus awoke to his alarm clock playing a 'One Direction' song.

"What the fuck is this shit? Ell, have you been messing with my radio again?" shouted Angus.

"Nah I ain't touched it," a voice yelled back from the kitchen downstairs.

He looked at the settings. It was his usual preset 'Onslaught FM', a station dedicated to metal.

"Fuck," he shook his head, "the world really is going to shit. Next it'll be F'ing Bieber on here next," he muttered to himself.

He turned to his poster of Metallica, "Man the music world has lost its way since you guys left."

Angus still couldn't believe they were dead. What were the chances that greatest Metal band in the world would play the song that killed them? They should've known playing "Stairway to Heaven" in reverse was an extremely bad idea. Apparently, the music caused over ten thousand cases of arrhythmia at once; killing not only Metallica, but their support bands, groupies and the majority of the fans themselves. Angus felt almost lucky he didn't manage to buy the tickets in time, otherwise he'd been joining them. But he felt gutted all the same, as it meant he missed their last gig.

He stood up so he was level with the poster. "I swear, I'll redeem the name of Metal once again. That, I can promise you. Just once I get my song writ'. I know it will change everythin'," he said making the solemn oath.

Angus looked at his watch, it was almost 5pm. He'd gotten used to getting up at odd hours due to his night shifts. He suspected the neighbours thought he was a vampire; he was pretty sure they hadn't seen him during the day. He put on his favourite T-shirt which said "Do I look like I fuckin' sparkle?" and shoved on some jeans before tying the back of his hair up. It was the only time he restrained his locks, when he played. Otherwise he found his long wayward strands of hair would eventually find their way into his eyes.

He took his guitar case and left for the gig. Before he reached the front door, Ell, his roommate and drummer, met him in the hallway. Shoving a slice of toast in his mouth, before he had the chance to protest.

"You ready," Angus tried to say with the toast-filled mouth, but consequently sounded like a jumble of murmurs instead.

Ell nodded, somehow she'd managed to decipher from his mannerisms what he meant, "Yeah been waiting on you. You lazy funt."

He swallowed down half the toast, "Aye, but you ain't working nights."

"True, no matter," she said dismissively.

To be fair, he was a little envious. She worked her own hours writing a successful comic book series, which meant she had one thing he didn't, a normal sleeping pattern.

They both left and met the other two band members at the 'Drunken Basilisk', the only pub who still accepted metal bands. Metal had pretty much died a death along with Metallica save for a few loyal followers. Angus was hoping to change that.

They were the first warm-up act of the night, never a good sign, but even Metallica started somewhere, Angus thought.

Angus removed his well-used guitar from the case, and fiddled with the strings until they were just right. The rest of the band adjusted their instruments too. Once satisfied, he nodded to the compere who then took to the stage.

"Good evening Ladies. We've got some great acts for you tonight. We hope you'll enjoy our first act 'Shattered Explosion'," said the compere before leaving the stage.

Angus stepped up to the microphone, "Hellooo Camden! Are you ready to get fucked up to metal!!"

"Get the fuck on with it," some guy heckled from the back.

If the guy hadn't been so far away, Angus would've probably put his foot through the guy's teeth, but he let it slide this time, making a mental note of what he looked like.

The moment Angus touched his guitar again, he suddenly forgot every song he had ever written and composed.

Shit, why now? Of all the fucking times, why now? he thought.

He searched his memory for a song, any song, until he found one. It wasn't ideal, but he had no choice in the matter. It was either sink or swim. He chose to swim.

"This is a cover song from Bag Fries, called Skeletor's Dick."

Angus began playing the intro on this guitar, while Ell gave him a puzzled look wondering what the fuck he was doing.

"Shredder had his cameras,

Shredder had his cameras,

In the city, in the city.

You think that's bad?

You think that's bad?

Well I've seen Skeletor's dick!

Flipping side-to-side,

Between his legs and thighs,

It's a mediocre size,

You can see it in his eyes." he sang through the mike while playing each chord perfectly.

At that moment, he felt like a God, music oozing from his fingertips.

When he brought his hand down heavily against his guitar for the "Megatron Killed Optimus" line, he felt all his strings snap in an instant.

FUCK, he thought.

The compere jumped on the stage immediately, "Thanks for playing guys. Give them a round of applause," he said as he shooed them off the stage.

"But I haven't finish-"

"Yeah, you have," he interjected.

Micky, one of the band members, stepped up to Angus, "What... the...fuck, was that about mate? I hope you enjoyed that. 'Cause it just cost us a gig. Come on Josh. I can't stand to be around this clown any longer," he said as he left and Josh followed trailing slightly behind.

"What the funt, Angus? You okay mate? What happened out there?"

"My strings snapped tha's all."

"Don't lie to me Angus, we've been roomies for years. I know when you're making shit up. What really happened out there. We never play covers. We've always played our own shit. That's what made 'us' different from them."

"Forget it, it won't happen again. I promise you that," he said as he made to leave.

"No. You owe me this. What's the matter?"

"I forgot the words and worse than that. I forget the f'ing music. Happy?"

"Stage fright?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"Nah fuck that shit. No somethin' else. Jus' don't know what"

"You ain't making much sense but you ain't lying. I can spot that a mile off."

"Scuse me Ell, but I need to go to shitter." he said as he passed her for the toilets.

He stood by the sink and splashed some water at his face, and looked in the mirror.

As he stared into his own eyes, all he could think of was the Van Halen guitar which lay on the bed in room 704. He just knew it was somehow involved.

Just as he was about to leave, a man came in. A man he recognised all too well. The Heckler.

"Hey you're that shit-head that broke his guitar. Classic," he said with a mocking smile.

Angus clenched his teeth and then his fist, before he beat the living shit out of the guy.

The man's blood sprayed everywhere as each of Angus's blow's landed.

When Angus had finished pulverising his face, he stopped to admire his handiwork. Turning his head as he did.

"Kinda looks like a Salvador Dali piece." he muttered, feeling a little better after his one-sided exchange of blows.

He left the toilets. Seeing the pub landlord, "Looks, like someone left a massive turd on the floor. Might wanna send someone to clean that shit up," he said before leaving.