Stories Page Four

When Angels Clash!

by Blackrose and Arianhod Chapter One
       Moon and Sun, Earth and Water. Separate but relying on each and every one of the other elements. Anger and joy. Each describes the situation in this story, my friends. As night is of darkness and of light, so these two souls take flight.
        There once were two rock stars, one very fair, the other, very dark. They were constantly at each other's throats, both artistically and personally. Infact, it was said of them that never before were two performers so illustrious embittered by an animousity so deadly. However, their differences were remarkably alike.
          As it was, their lives seemed to have been cast from similar molds. The one rival was a young man who had been born Virgil Carlyle Crawford, but who later took on the stage name of Virgo Nidal. The other, also a man of nearly the same age, had started life as Brian Hugh Warner, but who became well known as Marilyn Manson.   Both names combined direct opposites - the male and the female, the negative and the positive. These two men each had an individual band, and these bands worked together in concerts. Nidal's group was known as The Zodiacs and Manson's group was called, of course, after himself.
        Any similarities they had, however, crashed to pieces like a wooden frigate, on the rocks of culture, race, and national origin. Nidal, who had been a spoiled brat as a child, and who had carried that trait into manhood, was born to a lovely blonde actress-model named Candice (Candy) Crawford and an Arab man whom she refused to reveal the identity of. All she would tell her son was that his father was a Libyan Beduin and that he was someone very rich and famous. But, whoever his father happened to be, the result was that the boy was half-Arab and half-American. He also an only child, but he had his mother and his mother and his mother, plus the hangers on that always seem to attach themselves to the offspring of celebrities. Luckily, though, the boy had found honest companionship in the company of his three pet cats, Mittens, Lucy, and Jerry. He was a cat person and always would be, which was probably why he would wear green or yellow contacts with slitted pupils later on when he was a celebrity himself. His mother, who detoted on him to excess, had nevertheless tried to instill her family's Episcopalian religious faith into him from a very early age. And under-
standably, young Nidal, who had always been rather hard for his mother to control, had rebelled and embraced his unknown father's Islamic Faith when he was still only ten years old.To complicate things further, Nidal had been born in Russia at a time when that nation was still part of the Soviet Union. It was perhaps because of all these factors that he became a runaway at a young age and lived in North Africa for half of his life.
        Manson, on the other hand was a full-blooded American and had been born to Barb and Hugh Warner, a registered Nurse and the owner of a furniture store, respectively. His father had also been a helicopter pilot who flew on missions during the war in Vietnam. Warner had been doing this even before his son was born, and so both of the parents lived in constant fear that their frail, skinny kid had somehow been mutated by Agent Orange or some of the other ghastly chemicals that Lt. Warner had been ordered to dump on Southeast Asia's steamy jungles. But if young Manson was a mutated freak of some kind, it didn't show. Born in Canton, Ohio, and living in town, he was just your typical plain, brown haired, gangly, freckle faced schoolboy, obsessed with his BB gun, candy, Dr. Seuss, and his dreams of growing up to look like and sound like KISS' Gene Simmons. Like Nidal, he was an only child, but he had his cousin Chad to keep him company along with his pet husky dog, Aleusha, who happened to have mismatched eyes, a trait that Manson was to remember and make a part of his own persona years later. What set young Manson apart from his peers was his high intelligence and keen wit that helped him to see the flaws and hypocrasies of society and organized religion from an exceedingly early age. Like Nidal, he had been raised in a family where the Episcopalian faith, which is very like Catholicism, had been dominant. His parents had even sent him to a religous school, as it were. Being as smart as he was and also possessing a willful streak, young Manson, like young Nidal, had also rebelled against this religious pressure. But unlike Nidal, he had rejected organized religion altogether instead of exchanging one brand of it for another.
      Years later, these two artists and individualists met and collided through the auspices of Nothing Records head and Nine Inch Nails front man, Trent Reznor. It happened this way.
      Back in June 1994, the handsome dark-haired rock star sat at his New Orleans desk in his capacity of business tycoon and shook his head at his new dilemna. His company was threatened by a severe financial set-back, but in front of him was hope that he could pull it out of it. He read the newspaper again. "The Zodiacs! A huge sensation brings the world to its knees with their new wave of shock rock! Contractors around the world are after this great European-based band!"
      Reznor didn't know how he'd do it, but that band would be his as if his life depended on it. But how could he get them out from under the noses and contract papers of the thousands of other agents who were already beating a path to their door in the heart of Rome, Italy.
Suddenly, he got an idea and picking up his phone got in touch with his Assistant Manager, John Malm.
       "John! Get me the Trench Coat Mafia! I don't care how, just do it!" He ordered. Then he put the receiver down and smiled at his brilliant plan. "No one stops them." He mumbled in satisfaction.
       A few days later, Malm introduced Reznor to a dark pudgy fellow in a black trenchcoat.
      "Okay, George, you're working for me now and I want it done in a matter of days." Reznor announced.
      "My name is not George...." The Trench Coat Mafia guy protested.
      "I know!" Reznor broke in, "I'm calling you George because this is a secret meeting and I don't want your real name."
      "Then I'm calling you Rupaul. Anyway, I will see what my men can do. But I warn you, you better be able to pay, in leaves." Said the other man sternly.
      Reznor looked at him, and thought about that.
      "Leaves? Oh! I see, okay. How much?" He inquired.
       The man smiled broadly.
       "A pound for each member of the mission."
       Reznor nodded.
       "How many men you sending?"
       The man counted on his fingers a couple dozen times. For a moment Reznor thought the man might not know how to count.
        "Five, not including me."
        Reznor's blue eyes grew wide.
        "Six pounds! Holy crap, that's a hell of a lot! I'll see what I can do."
        The other man laughed slightly.
         "Find a way, or else, Rupaul."
         Reznor being a cross dresser himself at times laughed at the nickname, but caught the seriousness in the mobster's ultimation. He nodded. He had to have that band!
          The two men worked through the night till they came up with an agreement. Their plan would cost Reznor every cent that his business had left, plus all of his life savings, but he had great confidence that once he had his hands on The Zodiacs, this money would come back to him triple.
        "So it's settled! You and your gang find a way for us to get to Italy without being detected. When you do, I will go with my own guys to finish my business with a little old lady named Faustantine". Said Reznor. The "guys" he was talking about included Mr. Malm, and his two body guards.
       Reznor and the Trenchcoat Mafia leader shook hands, and then Reznor showed him to the door. Soon afterwards, Reznor walked to his bedroom, laughed a tired, but releaved laugh, and zonked out on the top of his bed, too exhausted to even crawl into it.
      Four days later, he got a phonecall from "George".
      "Mr. Rupaul, we're here to show you our secret plan to Italy." He said in a confidential tone.
      "Good, where do we meet you?" Asked Reznor eagerly, but still keeping his own voice low.
      "Off the coast, twenty miles from the town of Magnoliaville".
      "Fine, George, I'll be there with my guys."
      A few hours later, Reznor and his three companions arrived at the central coast of Louisiana where they found a submarine anchored directly off-shore. They met with the Mafia man and his buddies and followed them onboard.
      Their submarine was a fast one and it sped along through the Gulf Of Mexico and headed on out to the Mediterranean Sea. Nevertheless, it was extremely boring bobbing up and down and feeling the water push on the underground boat. Then Malm remembered something that he had not thought of till it was too late.
      "Uh oh." The heavy-set fellow with the blond goatee and balding head mumbled as he looked around the boat.
       "What is it, man?" Asked Reznor who was concerned by his friend and associates pale, greenish cast.
      Malm didn't answer, but instead looked over to where the Trench Coat Mafia gang leader sat in a corner across from them playing poker with his guys. Malm wobbled to the leader.
       "I...I..." Malm started to say. But before he could finish he barfed all over the leader, completely covering him and and the game they were playing.
       "That's fucking sick! You dirty fucking bastard! I should kick your ass. As it is, I'm washing my things with your clean clothes." Roared "George". Then one of the leader's guys started to turn green.
       "Ah fuck, not you too!" Exclaimed the head mobster. Suddenly, the other man puked all over his leader and the game.
       "Ah I should demote you for that you fuck face!" George stormed as he stood there with the barf from two different stomachs dripping off him. "You're going to rot in heaven for this! If you're gonna barf anymore, open a window! Then let a shark bite your fucking head off, you bastard!"
      Reznor was laughing and was just about ready to say,"If you think that's gross, come to one of my rock shows.", when he felt himself hit by a wave of sudden nausea. He turned away and ran off to the bathroom with his hand clamped over his mouth.
Chapter Two
      The next day, Reznor and the rest arrived at a little frequented dock just outside of Rome, Italy.
      "Now to the old bag's studio." Reznor said with a smile as he led his companions in the adventure out of their submarine and into the outskirts of the Italian Capitol. He looked at the address of studio and then hired a couple of taxis.
      A couple hours later they arrived at a large building that was apparently the La Fausta Studio. Reznor smiled greatly. He stepped out of the taxi, and, after paying the driver his tip, strode masterfully into the studio. His men followed him, and the Trench Coat Mafia followed them. A lady in the front room started yelling things in Italian, but Reznor and his group pressed on. The receptionist pushed a button under the desk and a light turned on in the recording room. Suddenly, before Reznor and the others could enter the recording room, a woman ran out of it. She was dressed in complete black, had long curly black hair, and was gorgeous. Renzor stood stunned for a second, then regained his senses.
       "Move, I have a meeting with an old lady named Faustantine." He announced.
       The woman smiled and said in perfect english, but with a bit of a British accent.
      "I am she. What can I do for you?"
     Before replying, Reznor had stared at her for a few seconds in disbelief. He had heard that the business woman was someone in her late forties or early fifties, so he found it hard to believe that she could be this pretty. She didn't look a day over twenty-five.
       "My name is Trent Reznor, President of Nothing Records. I'm taking over as Manager for The Zodiacs and I'm taking them to the U.S. You can stay on as their Assistant Manager." He said matter-or-factly, but with real authority.
        The woman glared at him.
         "You're taking over as Manager of The Zodiacs?"
         "Yes!"
         "May I ask why and who has given you the authority to do this?
         "The La Bella Record Company that you and The Zodiacs work for has agreed to sign them over to me. I needed to make this move because my own record company is suffering from a severe financial crisis and the only salvation for it is the The Zodiacs. I'm sorry."
      "No you're not Reznor, not one damn bit. I've heard about you and your ambitions. You're using this crisis with your company as an excuse to take control of The Zodiacs for the pure pleasure of owning them and using them. It's an authority trip with you."
      Reznor stared at her and for a moment, the dark-haired man in the black leather vest, shorts, and lace-up boots and the dark-haired woman in the black leather skirt, frilly blouse, and stove-pipe hat were locked eye to eye in a silent battle of wills. Then Reznor spoke.
       "The Zodiacs are mine now. So unless you want to be taken out of being Assistant Manager, get the fuck out of the way, and get a pen."
        The woman's mouth fell, but she stepped aside.
        Reznor smiled and pushed the doors of the recording room. There stood five men with instruments.
        "Who the fuck are you?" A man with kind of an afro like hair-do said in english, but with a trace of an Arabic accent.
        For a moment, Reznor looked him up and down appreciately. He was tall and tawny complected with a narrow face and very fine features. He was skinny, but it was all muscle. His tight, black leather pants, thigh-high boots, and clingy nylon tank top showed this off to good affect. And he was gothic, but in an oriental sort of way, with his black lipstick, heavily made-up catlike eyes, and dangly silver earring, nose-ring, and bracelets. He reminded Reznor of all the mystery and glamour of ancient Egypt and its sorceries. The man before him could have been a Priest-Avatar of Bast The Cat Goddesss. Reznor recognized him as The Zodiac's frontman, Virgo Nidal, but, God!, the tabloid photos had not done him justice.
        "I am Trent Reznor," The Nothing Record's head announced to the tall, dark, leather clad man in a friendly, but commanding way, "I am your new Manager and I'm taking all of you back to America with me."
      The other four men, who were dark just like their frontman, looked a bit shocked at Reznor. But their leader spoke, his voice bristling at Reznor's presumptious manner.
      "Well, if we're going to be working with a shit eating cock master like you, we'd better introduce ourselves. I am Virgo Nidal, he-siren of the east and I will be managing YOU."
      Reznor laughed. The other band members began to relax a bit. A lovely woman with an outfit like Jasmin from Walt Disney's Aladdin smiled. Then a ditzy man's voice with a strong Arabic accent came from her and said,
    "I am known as Gemini Ramirez, but I am really Princess Jasmin."
    Trent raised an eyebrow, but then felt amused. Nearby the boy-girl, a bald man stood from his perch and said in a voice with a similar sort of accent,
      "I am Leo Habash. I Know nothing."
      Another man with blue hair who reminded Reznor of Chucky from The Rugrats, but who was also Arabic in coloring and accent said,
      "I-I'm Pisces Baader-Meinhof. You would not believe how pure our leader is."
      Finally a guy in camo and army boots said,
      "I am Aries Guevara, long live the revolution!"
      This man, however, spoke in a voice full of Spanish inflections. Reznor stood a bit taken aback. Nidal smiled in satisfaction. It was his goal to set the newcomer back a couple feet. When Reznor regained himself from the shock, he said forcefully,
     "We're leaving now, no time to pack your things, my men will do that later."
     With that, Reznor led the band out of the recording studio followed by his business and underworld associates. He then hailed another taxi which drove them near the dock. They left the taxi and made their way to the secret submarine with Reznor in the lead.
      "Ooh! We get to go on a submarine! Hooray!" Gemini said while jumping up and clapping his hands together.
      "Sub-ma-reen?" Leo said pronouncing each syllable with difficulty. Reznor looked at him with a disgruntled grin.
       "A-a submarine? I-I don't want to g-go on a submarine!" Pisces said while hiding behind Nidal.
       Nidal turned around and stuck two of his fingers up Pisces' nose and started to drag him.
       "Whether you want to or not, you're going, you pussy."
       Aries looked around, and started circling the submarine.
       "Hey! Where's the torpedoes on this thing? What if those fucking Imperialist Americans attacked. Oh yeah, I forgot you are the fucking Imperialist Americans."
       Trent lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. He opened the door and they all waltzed in, and in the back was Nidal dragging Pisces by the nose. Once they were all in, Reznor walked in, and securely closed the door. Then a thought came to him.
       "Does anyone get motion sickness?" He said looking at the band.
       Pisces raised his hand slightly. Aries laughed,
       "I've been on a million of these ships, and only dick licking asshole capitalists get the American 'sea sickness'.
       Pisces quickly withdrew his hand and looked around, probably for a waste paper basket. The boat hadn't started yet, and he already looked green. Reznor felt a bit of pity for the poor bastard. He showed Pisces to a secure room that was not very clean, because that had been the room Malm had spewed all over in after he had done so on the Mafia Leader. Suddenly, a knock came on the submarine door.
      "Visitors on a submarine? Now that's not something you see every day, not even in a blue fucking moon." Reznor whispered under his breath. He went and stood by the door.
      "Who is it?" He said with a sing song voice.
      "Faustantine. You thought you'd leave ME behind?" A woman's voice said.
      Reznor sighed. He quickly unlatched the door, and the woman ran in. Reznor slammed the door shut and yelled to the Mafia guy who was acting as the submarine's helmsman,
      "Get her started!"
      The submarine started up, and Reznor could hear someone spewing in the background. The thought made him a bit queasy.
       "Well, I see I got here just in time. And, by the way, just call me Miss Tina." Faustantine said with a smile.
       Reznor frowned. He became queasier with the thought of some goody-goody girl aboard. He just wasn't used to take charge women. Aries looked around grimly.
        "No machine guns, torpedoes, or even tranquilizer guns! What kind of fucking ship is this? What are we expected to do on this boring piece of shit? Sit around and lick each other's asses?" Aries said with sincere aggravation.
        Reznor stifled a laugh at Aries' remark. This was one character he would not like to get on the bad side of.
        Hey, where the fucking hell are my roadies?" Nidal asked, realizing for the first time that they weren't there with him.
         When he examined further he found that only his band, Miss Tina, that usurper Reznor, a bunch of thugs, and a businessman were on the entire ship. Nidal shivered at the thought of Mafia types handling his and his band member's equipment. Since he arrived in Italy, he had seen more of those kinds of gangsters than he cared to ever see again. He much preferred his own roadies to do his fetching and hauling, for even though he whipped them, forced them to eat table scrapes, and otherwise treated them more like slaves than part of his team, he still valued their survices. Because they were all Pakistanis that could speak neither english nor Italian and furthermore, didn't know the laws of the land, he had been able to exercise almost god-like authority over them. Now he didn't have them. Perhaps, he could bring them over later.
       "What's the fucking rush, bitch-boy?" Demanded Nidal who was suddenly realizing how badly he and his band had been hurried into this predicament. Reznor laughed, but gave no remark.
      The ship began to go faster, bobbing up and down over and over. Gemini laughed like he was a school girl and pranced around the submarine.
      That is just so fucking silly." Reznor whispered to himself.
      Nidal paced back and forth in boredom, with his hands in his pockets. A step behind him was Leo, like some sick dog trailing behind him.
      "This is the weirdest fucking group I have ever come upon. And I love them!" Reznor mumbled, watching the odd couple.
      Nidal's eyes grew wide in boredom, then a flicker of light flashed in them. He grabbed Leo by the nose and carried him off to a room on the other side of the ship. Reznor's curiosity grew, but he decided not to investigate. He decided not to, because suddenly, he felt as though he was going to barf again. He ran for the bathroom.
      Malm had not made it there in time. Feeling the nausea rising up in his throat, he ran to the room that held Pisces and before he could find a corner, he barfed all over Pisces.
      "Oh sweet Allah!" Pisces got out before he barfed right back on Malm.
      Malm shut the door, and him and Pisces remained in that room for the rest of the trip. Meanwhile, Miss Tina was left alone with Aries, Gemini, and a couple of Mafia goons.
       "Well, since everyone left, I might as well have a little fun." Aries said with a smile that could only mean destruction.
       Miss Tina watched with a wary eye. Gemini still danced about as though the world had given him the secret of life. Aries had gone into the boiler room, but soon came out with a weird device.
       "What is that?" Miss Tina asked with a sweet welcoming voice.
       "It's a play toy that I think some damn imperialist fascist cow pussy licker will enjoy quite well."
       Miss Tina frowned.
       "Is it a bomb?"
       Aries grin grew.
       "How'd you guess?"
       Miss Tina laughed.
       "Well, knowing you. What I don't see is how you can turn EVERYTHING into a bomb!"
       Aries laughed.
       "Very carefully, my easily distracted friend."
       Miss Tina raised an eyebrow at this comment.
       "What kind of bomb?"
       Aries looked a bit shocked.
       "If I told you, it would ruin the surprise!"
       Miss Tina tapped her foot.
       "If it's going to hurt someone, put it away."
       Aries frowned in sorrow.
       "You never let me have any fun."
       Miss Tina shook her head.
       "Yeah, and that's why you're still alive."
       Aries snuffed and slouched in a chair, his devise in his lap.
       Meanwhile, Gemini started going through a closet like thing, and seemed to have found something. He pulled out a jeweled crown that was surely real. Where it had come from was left as a mystery in Miss Tina's mind. Gemini put it on his head and smiled.
      "Now I'm a real princess." He said with a giggle.
      Suddenly, the door that had held Leo and Nidal burst open. Leo had a stupid grin on his face (as usual) as he stumbled out. Nidal had a smug grin. He strutted out and looked around.
      "Hey, where is that dipshit weenie named Malm?" Nidal asked with a snicker.
      Miss Tina pointed to a door.
      "What the fuck is he doing in there?" Nidal asked as he walked to the door. "The poor pussy I suppose is in there barfing on Pisces and visa-versa."
      Nidal's grin turned to a frown.
      "The sick fuck. He went and made Pisces sick. I should kick his white turnished ass!"
      Aries laughed.
      "Here throw this in there." He said tossing Nidal the devise.
      Nidal shrugged, opened the door, and threw the bomb on the ground hard. A blast of smoke came from the bomb.
      "What the mother fucking hell is..." Malm started, but before he could finish he fell asleep head first in his own barf. Pisces did likewise. Nidal shut the door laughing.
      "Now isn't that the funniest fucking thing you've ever seen?" Nidal laughed again as he went and sat by Aries.
      "You are a brilliant son of a bitch, you know that?" Nidal said to his lead guitarist.
      "Hey, my mother isn't a bitch!" Aries looked around with a smile. "She's a Havana whore."
      Nidal laughed.
      Just then, Reznor, who had gotten his spell of nausea under control, entered the room and stood over the two Zodiacs with his hands on his trim, narrow, leather clad hips. He was smiling at Nidal, but his large blue eyes had a look that said, "I mean business, you frizzy-haired fucker!"
     "Nidal," Reznor said in a deceptively sweet voice, "come with me, I need to have a little talk with you."
     The tall dark frontman shrugged his boney shoulders and looked at his bomber lead gui-    tarist.
     "Oh, oh, looks like you're in trouble with the bossman." Said the Cuban sarcastically as he sat there with folded arms.
     "I can handle him," Sneered Nidal with a toss of his brown head, "and he'll never be my bossman nor yours either.
     Reznor fixed the Arab with a "I'll show you who's boss" look as he led him to a private corner away from everyone else. Then he put one arm around Nidal's skinny waist and ram-   med his other hand down the front of Nidal's leather jumpsuit, running his finger under his dick ring. Nidal's whole body shivered with pleasure as Reznor did this.
     "Virgo," Reznor said softly, but with an air of authority as he nozzled Nidal's ear, "you need taking in hand. That bomb throwing trick was the last straw, so my Bedu friend, I'm giving you two choices. I have hold of your dick ring and I can either jerk it and hurt you bad or pull on it gently and drive you to ectasy. So which will it be?"
    "Please," Gasped Nidal, who was starting get an erection, "drive me to ectasy."
    "Then you must do everything I say and not cause me any more trouble, or let your band mates cause me any more trouble. Understand?" Purred Reznor into Nidal's ear.
    "Yes, Trent, you're my boss and master and I'm your willing slave!" Blurted out Nidal who was starting to perspire.
    "Good." Whispered Reznor who then gave his slave boy a hand job.
    It only goes without saying that Nidal respected him after that.
Chapter Three

   The next day the submarine was at the Louisiana dock again.
    "We've finally arrived, people. So all ashore!" Announced Reznor as he led everyone out of the under water boat's hatch and onto dry land. Some of his companions were still a bit woozy from the trip and climbed out on wobbly legs, especially Pisces and Malm. As soon as they were out on dry land, Reznor paid his Trenchcoat Mafia helpers their wages in pot and then used a cellular phone to have his chauffeur come over with his tour bus. There was no sense trying to crowd ten people into one car.
      Shortly after he had herded everyone into the bus, Reznor turned to The Zodiacs and explained what was going to be expected of them.
      "Listen up, guys," He said firmly, "I'm taking you to a meeting at Immigration which shouldn't last more than a half hour and then I want you to clean up and get your asses up on stage in an hour and a half. You'll be opening for Marilyn Manson. You've probably heard of them."
      Nidal smiled and nodded, indicating that he had. His bandmates also looked quite pleased that they would be on the same billing as the well-known shock rock group. Miss Tina, however, glared at Reznor furiously.
       "One and a half hours? You can't be serious! My boys will need to rest from their trip and they'll need much more time than that to practice. Besides, Pisces has a bad headache." She protested.
       Reznor glared back at her.
       "My company is facing a severe financial crisis and the only group that can pull it out of it is The Zodiacs. Damn it, I need them. So give Pisces some aspirin and tell him to get his shit together. And stop calling them "your boys".
       "Yes, sir." Said Miss Tina with surly resignation.
       Just then Malm spoke up.
       "If you can clear them through Immigration, I'll personally see that The Zodiacs will be on stage and they'll be ready."
       Reznor directed the bus to the nearest Immigration office. He told Malm and Miss Tina to wait inside the bus as he led the foreign quintet inside the official government building. He talked for a few minutes with the receptionist who directed him and his charges to the main customs administrater's office. The Official and Reznor dickered back and forth for a few minutes and then all the proper papers were signed. Four of the Zodiacs recieved Green Cards, but Nidal did not need one. As it turned out he was still a US citizen in good standing inspite of his shady past in the Angola guerrilla training camp and the circumstances of his birth.
     With The Zodiacs now cleared through Immigration, Reznor had everyone driven to his own recording studio, a lofty very gothic looking building with many gambles which had once been a funeral home. He then pointed The Zodiacs towards the rehearsing room, which was, of course, not being used, and then left with Malm for a business meeting in another room.
      Fifteen minutes later, Reznor found The Zodiacs all in his studio suite instead of in the rehearsing room and that they had decided to feel at home. Aries was taking apart Reznor's radio and was making quite a mess on the kitchen counter. Pisces had found Reznor's "life supply" of Cocoa Puffs and had devoured a good percentage of them. Gemini had gotten into the bevy of Barbie Dolls that belonged to Reznor's sister and was putting on a play for Leo. And then there was Nidal! Nidal sat in front of the TV watching some kind of soap opera, in the nude! Reznor, being bi-sexual by nature, looked at his pretty brown body appreciately, linging especially over his oriental tattoos and intimate body piercings. Then he shook himself out of it. They had a show to put on and it was up to him to see that they did. After all, his whole business and his reputation as a rockstar-businessman depended on it. Miss Tina, however, had let them loiter, since she felt that they "needed the rest". He would have to have a word with her.
       "What the fucking hell are you idiots doing in my private quarters?" Reznor asked severely.
       Nidal answered him without turning his head from the television set.
       "I'm watching TV in the cool outfit I like to call 'Nidal's all natural body suit'. It looks like Gemini is entertaining Leo, Pisces is having a little snack, and Aries is tearing apart various items of your living quarters. I have no problem with him doing so, but if he touches the TV with a square foot long pole, I will personally shove my foot up his Cuban ass."
       Reznor felt his face becoming warm.
       "I don't give a dirty fucking care if you aprove or not! And I don't care what you call it! I call it being a fucked-up bimbo! So unless you don't want any pot, I suggest you get the fucking hell out!" Reznor yelled with anger.
       "Well, I see some Americans aren't very hospitable!" Nidal said with sarcasm. He grabbed his things though and quickly dressed in his leather shorts, black gartars and stockings, Daffy Duck T-shirt, and black knee-hi jack boots.
       "Americans are just dirty fucking bastards! I tell you the revolution will triumph and our Great Leader take over for the people. 'Til then, the dirty fuck faces that call themselves A- ericans should treat us with hospitality or we'll blow their fucking asses to your so-called Hell first!" Aries said with a grin as wide as his face was long.
     Reznor licked his top gums and took a deep breath.
     "Get a clue, Nidal, you ARE an American, so cut the Third World Leftist shit. And as for the rest of you, you are just a bunch of god damn foreign cow clit lickers who like the taste of your own shit. Now all five of you, get your crap rounded up, get some clean clothes on, and get practiced. You have but 45 minutes left til you're onstage."
       Nidal shot an irritated look at Reznor, but said nothing. Just then, there was a loud rap on the door.
       "Oh yes, guys, before you leave, I'd like you to meet your new billing partners - The Marilyn Manson group." Reznor said while moving away from the door. Manson himself walked in with a big white grin. His black hair was mixed with red, as if a fire had broke through the night. He had two different types of contacts in, one light blue, the other dark brown, and wore a black leather outfit. This get-up consisted of a lace-up vest with no shirt underneath, knee-high jack boots, and black skin-tight pants. His face was as pale as snow. But his outfit was as black as night. A lip ring hung from his lower lip and tattoos aligned both of his arms. He wore several rings on his fingers and a pentagram necklace. Behind him came four other men who were dressed in black as well. Seeing them both together for the first time, Reznor gasped at how much they and The Zodiacs resembled each other.
      "Marilyn Manson," Reznor said with his pride showing in his voice,"meet Virgo Nidal and his magnificent band."
        Manson gave Reznor a look that said, "Magnificent? Let me hear them first before I decide how 'magnificent' these foreign geeks are." Then he smiled skeptically at the Arab. The Zodiacs walked over by their leader so Reznor could introduce them all.
      "This guy with the blue hair is Pisces Baader-meinhof. This one with the bald head is Leo Habash. The one in the camo is Aries Guevara. And finally, this man in Arab Princess drag is Gemini Ramirez. They took their first names from their own birthsigns and their last names from international terrorists, just like you Manson guys took your first names from female celebrities and your last names from guys who were serial killers. Cool no?"
      Nidal lifted an eyebrow at the other band but said nothing.
      "This man with the green hair is Ginger Fish", continued Reznor with the introductions,"The other bald man is Pogo, or Madonna Wayne Gacy. The man with black and white hair is Daisy Berkowitz. And finally, the man dressed up as a high school girl is Twiggy Ramirez."
      Manson raised a painted-on eyebrow at The Zodiacs. Neither band said anything.
      "Well you crack heads, aren't you gonna say anything?" Reznor demanded with sarcasm.
      Manson looked at Nidal and kept quiet. Infact, Nidal didn't say a word either but looked Manson up and down in a way that the Ohio rocker took to be full of charm, but also menace and superiority. The truth was that the two frontmen were too busy sizing each other up to make any comments. Their band mates noted this and respected what they were doing, deciding to keep silent themselves. All except dense Leo and flighty Gemini.
       "Hi guys!" Said Leo to the members of Marilyn Manson, "If we're your 'opening act', does that mean we're going to be coming onstage before or after you?"
       "Before, you knuckle head." Said Nidal in a surly tone as he delivered a blow on top of his keyboardist's thick, bald cranium.
       "Oww, oww, oww!" Exclaimed Leo in a high pitched voice as he clutched his head and winced in pain.
        Manson and his bandmates all laughed loudly. Then Gemini spoke up.
       "Well, I'm just so pleased to meet you all. You seem like a happy sort!" Gemini said while flinging his hair. "You people are just so original."
       "Where'd you get that crown?" Twiggy asked excitedly as he pointed to the glittering tiara on top of Gemini's wealth of jet black braided hair. Twiggy walked over and tried to grab the crown.
       "Hey, it's mine! You can't have it!" Gemini said starting to back away.
       "Well, can't you share? I think it's my turn to try it on. Give me!" Said Twiggy as he started chasing after Gemini.
       Gemini screamed like a little girl and ran around the room.
       "Leave me alone! I am a Princess and you are not fit to wear a crown. Commoner!" Gemini yelled as he dove for the bathroom.
       Twiggy was not far behind. But Gemini was a dart ahead of him and locked the door behind him. Twiggy banged on the door with all his might.
       "Let me in! Let me in!" Twiggy screamed.
       "I'm not a little piggy, and I will not be fooled! You wolf!" Gemini screamed at the top of his lungs.
       Twiggy banged on the door harder. Manson and the rest of his group, and Nidal with the rest of his group, watched in amusement. Reznor felt friction in the air. Nidal laughed a hearty laugh, and then lit himself a hashish cigarette. Manson continued to snicker behind his hand. Pogo looked Leo. Leo saw a symbol on Pogo's shirt that he recognized.
       "The Hebrew Seal of Solomon!" Leo said contemptously under his breath.
       "The scarf of a Palestinian." Pogo, who happened to be of New York Jewish descent, murmured as he glowered at the blue and white kaffiyeh draped around Leo thick neck. "You dumb shit Arab copy cat. How dare you steal my look."
        "Fuck face Jew. I made this look." Leo said indignantly, then he started to shuffle backwards while shaking his fists at Pogo. Pogo followed him into the hall where they both started bitching at each other.
       Daisy looked at Aries and suddenly smelt the aroma of Communism, and it was an aroma he didn't like, not after his father's horrifying experiences as a Viet Nam POW.
       "Well, I'll be damned. If it isn't a Communist dog escaped from his pen." Daisy said under his breath nastily.
       "Well, if it isn't a fucking Capitalist pig escaped from his slaughter house." Answered Aries back through his teeth.
       "Hey, fidelisto, Communism is dead. It's time your wuss of cigar chomping, old fart, excuse for a leader realized it, and gave the free world a break." Daisy taunted.
       "That's a fucking lie, fascist pig, the Socialist Revolution lives and we will bury you and your pussy of a muff diving President!" Shot back Aries.
       Aries licked his upper gum.
       "You wanna take this to a more appropriate place?!" He asked Daisy with steam.
       "Where in your mamasita's ass? It's probably big enough for two world wars!" Daisy yelled, getting into it himself.
       "Okay, that's it, Yankee! You, me, in the kitchen, now!"Aries screamed. Aries and Daisy walked the few feet to the kitchen. The moment they stepped in it, Aries punched Daisy in the jaw.
       "Take that pussy. You communist pig!" Daisy retorted with a swing to Aries' nose. A tiny bit of blood sprouted from it.
       "Aye Carumba! I haven't tasted blood since the last guerrilla attack I did. No one has ever dared fight me. This should be interesting." Aries said with a blow to Daisy's gut.
       Nidal, Manson, Pisces, Reznor, and Ginger stood watching. Twiggy pounded on the bathroom door. Leo and Pogo had a screaming match. And Aries and Daisy beat the shit out of each other.
       Pisces smiled adoringly at Nidal
       "You know, our Great Leader is so much better looking than yours." Pisces said with sincerity.
       Nidal smiled back at Pisces.
       "I know." Nidal said with a toss of his jetty curls.
       Manson gave them both a taken aback look. Then he shot a glance at Ginger which was a cue for him to say something. Ginger turned to Pisces.
       "Hardly, you blue haired Smurf. Our band leader could mop up the floor with your band leader in any contest, any day of the week."
       Manson nodded approvingly.
       "True, true." Manson said as he preened his own wealth of glossy, red-streaked black hair, pushing it back behind his ears.
       Nidal shot a glance at Pisces, then went and sat on a nearby couch. Manson did likewise, sitting on the end fartherest from Nidal.
       Pisces laughed.
       "Well, you green-haired Grinch, I can hardly believe that you'd think of such a horrendous lie. Your leader, mop up the floor with mine? Hardly! Our Leader is so great and brave! He's so pure and strong! You will never find a man so close to the great Allah!" Pisces said giving an admiring stare at Nidal.
       "Him, close to God? Hardly, my poor demented boy. Our leader is ten times stronger, braver, purer, and greater! And he could and will mop the floor with that pipsqueak you call a leader." Ginger said with a laugh.
       Before Pisces could give a good retort, Miss Tina burst into the room. She took one look at the disorder at the place and yelled,
       "What the fuck are you running here, Reznor? A zoo or a record company?"
       She walked up to Twiggy who was still banging on the bathroom door.
       "What are you doing?" She asked him.
       "He won't share his crown." Twiggy said with a frown.
       "Gemini! Come out and be nice, the least you could do is let him see it for a few moments." She insisted in a firm voice. Soon after she spoke, Miss Tina heard a noise from inside the bathroom.
      "But it's mine! He can find one of his own."
      Miss Tina began to get irritated.
      "Gemini, Leo, Aries, Pisces, and Virgo! File in right here, right now!" Miss Tina said with complete anger and sincerity. The band stopped suddenly, and obeyed immediately.
      "I want you all to apologize right now and then get cleaned up for the concert!" She demanded.
      They all sighed, but did as they were told. The other band laughed whole heartedly.
      "Hey, Marilyn, Pogo, Twiggy, Ginger, and Daisy", Spoke up Reznor, "I want you to do the same!"
      The Manson group stopped laughing and immediately did what Reznor demanded.
       Then both of the bands left. Manson's followed him out in a single, sulky file. Behind them came Nidal pulling both Leo and Pisces by the nose, while snarling "C'mon, you knuckleheads!" Close behind them were Aries, who was tossing a handgranade nonchalontly and Gemini who minced along with his veiled nose in the air and minus his tiara. Miss Tina had made him give it to Twiggy, so that he could wear it for awhile.
      Once the bands had left, Reznor looked at Miss Tina.
      "I see you do know how to control those Zodiacs. I'm glad I kept you."
      Miss Tina rolled her eyes.
      "Why didn't you do something before it became a catastrophe?" She asked, still filled with anger.
      "Because it was fun to watch. When you showed up and stopped it all, I thought I might as well follow." Answered Reznor with a careless laugh.
      Miss Tina eyed Reznor.
      "All men are the same." Miss Tina said disgustedly as she left the room.
      "Women aren't any better. Matter of fact, they're boring." Reznor muttered under his breath.
       Then he went to find The Marilyn Manson group who had gone home and were getting ready for the show. As it was, both they and The Zodiacs lived in Reznor's house along with Miss Tina now. "I like this arrangement. I can keep an eye on them all this way." Reznor would tell everybody.
       "Well, let us get ready for something that will prove to be quite entertaining." He said to the Manson band whom he found busy practicing for the show they were to put on that night.
       For the remainder of the afternoon, The Zodiacs on one side of the four storey gothic mansion and the Marilyn Manson group on the other side, all slaved to get ready for their concert.

Chapter Four
       By the end of the day, at precisely eight PM, the concert began. Reznor looked at The Zodiacs with pride. Miss Tina folded her arms and gave a disgruntled face. Ignoring her,        Reznor took a deep breath, pushed his black hair from his face, and walked out on the stage.   He picked up the microphone and said with excitement.
     "Do we have a crowd here? I can't hear you!"
     The crowd roared with excitement.
     "Are you ready to rock?" Reznor screamed.
     The crowd roared again.
     "I can't hear you!" Reznor yelled with all his might.
     "Manson! Manson!" The crowd roared
     "Well, since you're so enthusiastic. But first, let me introduce a great hit band! Presenting, The Zodiacs!" Reznor roared.
     The crowd cheered.
      The stage went black suddenly. Out of nowhere a huge explosion hit the stage. Aries            staggered onstage, his face was black with soot, as was his camo outfit.
      "What a bang!" He yelled.
      The crowd screamed with excitement. The rest of the group came on after a couple more explosions. They all got in their positions and Nidal grabbed the microphone.
      "Hey, all you goddamn Americans! Do you know how to rock? Well if you look it up, there's our picture! Let's rock!" He said and nodded to Aries.
      Aries started in with a slow driving guitar beat. With a deep steady voice, Nidal sang,
      "My name is Revolution. I topple each institution."
      Nidal caressed his arms.
      "My arms are long range rockets."
      He caressed his thighs.
      "My legs have warheads between their sockets."
      His band then burst out with a loud, pounding beat, something like Black Sabbath, only
more hyponotic. As the band played, Nidal whirled and leaped, with the grace and agility of a panther, in his skin-tight black leather S&M costume. Moments later, Nidal returned to the mic, and stood erect with his fist raised high.
      "Overthrow the old order! Overthrow the old order! Overthrow the old order!" He
shrieked in an increasingly higher voice.
      "Overthrow the old order! Overthrow the old order! Overthrow the old order!" The crowd chanted, echoing him.
      The Nidal's voice reached to it's piercing upper register.
      "Create anarchy! Create disorder!"
      The crowd chanted with him.
      The Zodiacs went through the show with shining colors.
      "Zodiacs! Zodiacs!" The audience chanted.
      Before the show ended, Nidal strode up to the edge of the stage and looked about. His catlike eyes lit on a boy about fourteen with long black hair. The boy wore a leather pair of pants and no shirt. Corruption was smeared across his chest with what looked almost exactly like blood. Nidal strutted over to the boy and smiled. He signaled to Leo. Leo walked over and picked up the boy by his arm.
      "Wah!" He screamed in excitement and surpise.
      Nidal's grin grew. He made a spiral motion with his finger. Leo nodded, lifted the boy a- bove his head, and spun him with his arms. Nidal nodded his head toward the audience. Leo laughed and threw the boy to the crowd of cheering, agitated goths. The boy screamed again and was on a trip of crowd surfing. Others ran to the stage and wanted to be thrown too. Aries walked out to the edge of the stage, turned around, and threw a large smoke bomb on the stage. When the smoke cleared, Manson's group had taken the place of The Zodiacs and the audience was just as happy to cheer them on as well.
      Later, after both shows were well and over with, Reznor and a man sat in Reznor's room.
The man had his legs crossed and looked professional. He was a small man, even smaller than Reznor himself, and had a mousey look about him. He was, of course, the Nothing Re- cords Accountant.
     "So you see, Andy, we have found a way to get ourselves out of the red." Reznor told him with a smile.
     "Yeah, we have boss, Nothing Record's financial worries are as good as over." Said the Accountant, who with his black pony-tail, black leisure suit, and small-lensed glasses, looked like some kind of a gothic rodent.
    "Cool, Andy!" Reznor said as he popped open a bottle of Black Velvet, "Let's drink to that!"
     So with a smile and the end of another day, the two man drank themselves silly. When the little Accountant was finished, he barfed on the floor and then fell asleep in it. Reznor didn't notice nor care, since after a few mouthfuls he had left his tippling partner behind and crawl- ed into bed with Nidal, his "Galaxy Class Starship". He still had the liquor bottle with him which the Arab was only too happy to sneak a sip from, when he thought Reznor wasn't looking.
     "Now isn't that just a sight for sore eyes!" Miss Tina said exasperatedly as she walked into Reznor's bedroom.
     "Just a few more minutes mommy." The Accountant mumbled in his sleep. "I don't wanna go to school. I wanna stay home and bake cookies with you."
     After saying this, he rolled over into his barf. With a cough he jumped up, his face com-    pletely covered.
     "Now that is just charming, Andy, you have puke all over you, you smell like piss, and you look like death warmed over. Take a bath." Miss Tina retorted.
      Andy Webber got up and sleepily walked to the bathroom. Miss Tina smiled with satis-     faction when she heard water begin to run in the bathroom. She went about cleaning the room up. About an hour later, Mr. Webber left the bath, dressed, and returned to his office. Meanwhile, Reznor came back to his room expecting to find a terrific mess. Instead, he stood amazed at a spotlessly clean, draped bed chamber and Miss Tina just putting up the vacumn cleaner.
      "Wow, thanks." He said to her.
      Miss Tina smiled and left the room while Reznor got dressed. Once he was dressed and ready to go, he had to find the bands. They were supposed to be leaving for the next town very soon.
      But when he found them, they were in no shape for leaving or having a concert at all! Po- go and Leo were yelling at the tops of their lungs about the futures of their separate reli-        gions, bickering about events that may never happen. Aries and Daisy were at each other's throats, nearly killing each other. There was blood all over the place from them. Aries kept constantly trying to make Daisy eat a hand grenade. Twiggy and Gemini were ripping each o- ther's clothing completely to shreds. They were furious because they both happened to have caught each other wearing the same style of dress.
      Pisces and Ginger had their backs to each other and they kept screaming, "Uh uh!" and "Uh Ha!" at each other.
      But the worst was Nidal and Manson. Though the others screamed, and hit, and ripped up stuff, none did as much as those two. They screamed, they bit, they tore, they clawed, they spat, they punched and kicked, but most of all, they glowed with fury.
     "Cut it out! Cut it out!" Roared Reznor.
     But no one listened. Reznor shook his head and whistled.
     "Pisces! Ginger! Shut up! You have both got a magnificent leader. Twiggy! Gemini! Stop with the tearing of the dresses! I'll buy you each two brand new and different ones! Leo! Po- go! Who gives a fuck what your god forsaken religions will do in the future! Aries! Daisy!      Stop beating the fuck out of each other, or I'll make you hold hands and kiss."
     They stopped, then Reznor turned toward Nidal and Manson.
     "And you two! You knock it off or I'll come over and yank hard on every ring you're            pierced with!"
     They stopped dead in their tracks. Reznor smiled in relief and victory. They all grouped up and stormed out opposite doors on opposite sides of the room.
     "Ha! I know how to deal with them now! At least it will keep them from each other's throats for a tad bit." Reznor said as he too walked out of the room.
     Later that day... "Okay, everyone's accounted for. Let's be on our way to the next town."        Reznor said as he threw the clipboard into the big black touring bus. Then, he had Malm and Miss Tina herded the two quintets into it.
     During the first day on the road, The Zodiacs and the Manson group kept out of each o-     ther's hair. But later on, things began to get touchy.
     The next day...Pogo and Leo sat across from each other, both eating a bowl of cereal. Po- go watched Leo intently as he ate, never taking his eyes off him, and Leo did likewise. Pogo suddenly smiled. He put a spoonful of cereal close to his mouth, but he didn't eat it. With a quick flick of his wrist, Pogo flung his cereal at Leo. Leo was startled so bad that he dropped the bowl on his lap. Leo stared down at his pants for a long time. Aries, seeing the entire thing, walked over and began to peel a banana.
      "You know, Leo, you shouldn't just sit there and look stupid. Get even."
      Leo looked up at Aries with a confused face. Aries rolled his eyes and took a bite of the banana.
      "Must I show you everything?" Aries muttered. "Like this."
      Pogo sat with a smug smile on his face. Suddenly, a banana was shoved up his nose. Po- go snorted with surprise and fell off his chair. Aries laughed so hard he nearly fell on the floor himself. Pogo licked his upper gums and grabbed a bottle of milk. While Aries was off guard, laughing his head off, Pogo snuck up behind him. He grabbed open the back of his pants and under shots. He swiftly poured the milk down them before Aries could act.
     "Aye Carumba!" Aries yelled, grabbing his ass.
     Pogo toppled over with laughter. Reznor came over from the front of the bus and looked disgustedly at the mess the three had made.
     "God damn it! Can't you go five minutes without making a mess?!"
     Pogo looked at his watch.
     "Technically, it was six minutes and thirty-three seconds since our last mess." Pogo said with a smart alec tone.
     Reznor frowned.
     "Well I don't care! Clean it up!"
     The three signed and began cleaning up the spilled milk and other breakfast fare, though Aries did more "supervising" than cleaning. Miss Tina walked in and saw the two boys clean- ing and the one shouting orders.
     "You boys." She mumbled and shook her head.
     She then made her way to the front of the bus where Reznor sat with the driver.
     "It looks like you finally got them to clean up after themselves." Miss Tina said with a hint of sarcasm. Reznor just laughed mocking laugh and went back to looking at his map.
     Meanwhile...Pisces and Twiggy sat on the couch fighting over what to watch.
     "I want to watch Star Trek!" Pisces yelled.
     "I want to watch My Little Pony!" Yelled Twiggy.
     Nidal walked by at that moment and saw the two squabbling. He grabbed the controls and turned it to The Three Stooges.
     "Watch some highly intellectual TV for once." He said and walked away.
     Twiggy and Pisces turned, stopped quarreling, and watched in peace. Twiggy looked at Pisces for a second with a weird face. He crawled over and started playing with Pisces hair.
     "You have really bad spilt ends. And when was the last time you washed it? You should really let me do your hair." Twiggy said with a half frown.
     Pisces looked at him and then jumped from the couch. He grabbed his "perfect blue locks".
     "You can't touch my hair!" He said with uncertainty. He turned around and ran to the front of the bus. Twiggy smiled smugly.
     "Well, since he's gone, I think I'll watch My Little Pony." He said, changing the channel
     Elsewhere on the bus...Daisy and Ginger lay on the bed playing a video game.
     "What's that?" Gemini asked as if the other two were idiots.
     "It's Donkey Kong. Go away!" Said Ginger.
     Gemini didn't go away though. He crawled on the bed and looked at the screen.
     "I thought I said 'go away!' Not 'crawl up here'!" Ginger said with sharp annoyance.
     Gemini threw back his thick long coil of glossy black hair and said smuggly.
     "I don't have to do anything demanded upon me by a mere commoner."
     Ginger and Daisy both rolled their eyes.
     "Well." Daisy said. "If you're gonna stay, then you can do something for me. I want you to act like your real sex."
     Gemini's tawny little face turned brick red.
     "What! How dare you talk to ME like that!" He yelled with anger.
     Then with a swift grab of one of his hi-heeled silk slippers he hit them both, knocking them unconscious. He laughed and crawled back onto the bed. Grabbing one of the controls, he began playing the Donkey Kong game himself.
     Elsewhere...Manson sat on one side of the "room" on the bus, while Nidal sat on the o-     ther. Manson was listening to Iron Maiden, while his nemesis was listening to an old late six-   ties heavy metal group called Iron Butterfly. Manson was listening contentedly when the Iron Butterfly music began to seep through his. Manson frowned and turned up his music. Nidal heard Manson's music which was now so loud that he could barely hear his own. So he cranked his up a little louder. In response, Manson cranked his up louder still. Nidal began to get irritated and cranked up his music as loud as he could. Then Manson did too. Nidal began jumping up and down angerly and also tried to make the bus dance. His rival started jumping too, but to a different beat. The back of the bus flew up and down, up and down. It was do-
ing this so hard that everyone felt it in the front of the bus, not to mention heard it. Every-     one but the driver ran back to see what was going on. They saw Nidal and Manson jumping up and down to two different songs and two different beats.
     "Stop it! Stop it!" Reznor yelled, but could not be heard over the ruckus.
     Miss Tina stepped in and whistled. Nidal and Manson heard that and stopped. They saw e- veryone for the first time, and went and turned their music off.
     "Okay! I've had enough of everyone's fighting!" Miss Tina said with anger.
     Suddenly, Daisy and Ginger stumbled tiredly into the room, rubbing their heads.
     "What's going on?" Ginger asked with a hint of pain.
     "I'm assigning you all time out, that's what's going on!" Miss Tina retorted.
     Manson and Nidal raised an eyebrow.
     "Are you gonna spank them too, Miss Tina?" Reznor asked with a half-smile.
     "Shut up, Trent!" Miss Tina said. "Now all of you, The Zodiacs are my responsibility so they will stay on the back half of the bus, The Manson guys will stay on the front as they are Trent's responsibility."
    They all sighed and the Marilyn Manson group walked slowly to the front of the bus. When they finally reached the town they had been heading to, they were all bored to distract- ion.
    "We'll be staying in the hotel's suite." Reznor said while making sure everyone was still all accounted for as they marched into the hotel with their luggage.
    They walked into the hotel and the moment they were all in, a man ran up to them.
    "Hello sirs and madam, if you will just follow me I'll show you to your suite." He off- ered.
    Reznor smiled tiredly.
    "Thanks, but no thanks." He said a little irritatedly. "Me and all of these asses can find our suite without any help. Just give me the key. It's on the top floor and the number is 13, isn't it?"
    "Right, sir." Said the man as he handed Reznor the key to his suite. "Have a good stay".
    Reznor took the key and waved in a thank you gesture to the fellow. Then he lead everyone to the nearest elevator.
    "Wheee!' Exclaimed Gemini who was clapping his hands as he rode with the others to the hotel's top floor. "This is as fun as a ride at the fair!"
    Reznor rolled his blue eyes.
    "Gemini," He said exasperatedly, "Knock it off or I'll take away your harem girl dolly."
    Gemini stamped his foot and pouted, while the others laughed.
    Moments later, the elevator stopped and let all of them out at the second floor. Reznor led the group to the end of the hall where suite number 13 was situated.
    "Okay, Virgo, you and your group are to stay in this room, and Marilyn, you and your group are to stay in the one across from it." Reznor said, pointing at two different rooms.     When the two bands had piled into the two separate rooms, Reznor showed Miss Tina to a room right across from his own. Once Reznor had seen that everyone was settled, he relaxed in a chair in his room looking over some papers. Soon, he saw a spot on the bottom of a page that needed signing by Nidal before he could send it in to the contraction board. Reznor sighed as he was tired. He got up and opened his door. He walked down the hallway and en-   tered the Zodiac's section of the suite.
      Leo, Gemini, Pisces, and Aries were are there in the usual mad array. Leo and Gemini were making paper dolls, While Pisces was riding around on a tricyle and Aries was attempt- ing to make an explosive out of the microwave. But where was their mercurial frontman?
      "He's in the shower." Answered Pisces when Reznor inquired about him.
      Reznor then noticed that the bathroom door was cracked open slightly. He walked to the door quietly and flung it open. His eyes grew wide with appreciation, for there in front of him was Nidal totally nude, the water from his shower dripping from his skinny brown body and wooly black hair like he was a native who had just stepped out of an African rain forest.
Reznor took a moment to admire the lovely Arab whose body was completely hairless except for the black wool that crowned his impressive brown dick.
      "Well, Trent, aren't you going to dry me off?" Asked Nidal in the low, seductive register of his inimitable voice.
      "Of course, Virj." Said Reznor as he grabbed the nearest towel and patted the dark, sultry singer dry, kissing and licking every spot where he had toweled.
      When was through, he wrapped the towel around Nidal like a Libyan toga and lifted him into his arms. It was not hard for Reznor to do this, since, even though Nidal was consider-    ably taller than him, he still weighed considerably less.
      "Come with me to the Kasbah." Reznor told Nidal in a throaty whisper as he carried him, oblivious to the giggles and snickers of the other Zodiacs, out of their room and into his bed.
      The paper signing could wait until morning.

Chapter Five
       A couple days later...Nidal sat outside the hotel smoking his hashish cigarette when a fancy car drove up. The car stopped right in front of the hotel, and out came a dark man in a dark suit and dark glasses who looked hispanic. The man walked up to Nidal with some weird package.
      "Are you Senor Virgo Nidal?" The man asked in a low, undertoned voice with a slight spanish accent.
      "None other than." Nidal said as he tossed his dark curls.
      The man nodded and looked around.
      "Come over here." The man said indicating to a hidden corner under the balcony.
      Nidal nodded and walked over there. The man reached in his jacket and pulled out a document with Nidal's name written across it. He smiled and gave both the document and the strange package to Nidal. The Arab took them both and put them in the leather bag he had with him. His partner in the exchange then tipped his hat and walked away as if nothing had happened and he was just another customer at the hotel. A few moments later, Nidal walked into the hotel and went up to his room with the bag flung over his left shoulder.
     Upstairs..."Hey guys! Look what your Great Leader has gotten you all." Nidal threw the weird package to Aries.
     "Ha! Finally! I've been needing a snort!" He said with relief.
     Aries tore open the parcel and grabbed the white powdered stuff. Before any of them could take a whiff, Manson burst through the door with his band.
     "Ha! I knew I smelled cocaine downstairs!" Manson yelled.
     "Shhh!" Nidal said. "Keep it under your dopehat, and we'll give you some." He said look-   ing around.
     Manson smiled. They all piled around the nice glass table.
     Nidal dealt it out, giving Manson a little less than half the bag in another bag. Manson got up and stuck it in his black leather, steel studded coat, planning to go back to his room and share it with his guys. Suddenly, a narcotics informer burst in the door with two police offi-   cers.
     "Ah ha! We were informed that either a man named Marilyn Manson or Virgo Nidal has a stash of cocaine." The informer announced.
     "He's got it." Nidal piped in without a second thought.
     Manson looked at Nidal momentarily with irritation.
     "No, he's got it." Manson retorted.
     Nidal was becoming aggravated.
     "No, he has it." Nidal said, trying to reassure everyone.
     "I've got it." Manson said slyly.
     "No, I've got it!" Nidal blurted out.
     "He's got it! Arrest him!" Said Manson with a laugh.
     Nidal, realizing he had been tricked, grew furious and punched at Manson. Unfortunately, Manson knew he would do something like that, so he ducked. Nidal punched the cop behind him square in the nose. When Nidal realized what he'd done, all he could say was, "Oops!"
The cop grabbed his club and swung at Nidal. Nidal ducked, but Manson came up, and Man- son was clubbed right in the jaw.
     "You bastard!" Manson said before he could think.
     Manson swung at the cop, but hit the other cop.
     "Okay, that's it." The cop said.
     He jumped on both of them, and then the other cop joined in. The four mauled the hell out of each other, until finally, the informer broke it up.
     "You have the right to remain silent." One of the cops said.
     "Some right." Nidal muttered.
     Before the cop could search him or the room, he threw his stash out the window. Then as they searched Nidal, Manson threw his stuff out the same window.
     "They can't convict me now." Manson said cunningly to himself.
     But the police handcuffed both of the shock rockers and pushed them down to the cop car where they were whisked off to prison.
     At the prison... "Okay, Mr. Nidal, go in for the cavity search." He was told by an officer at the desk.
     Nidal's eyes grew wide.
     "No one's sticking their hand up my ass! You Americans are sick fucks if you think you're going to!" He said with a sneer.
     The cop rolled his eyes and pushed him into another room.
     "Please strip."A big ugly lard ass cop with rubber gloves on said.
     "No thanks, I think I won't." Nidal said as he backed away from him.
     The cop came after him.
      "I tried to be nice, but you have forced me to use desparate measures." Said the officer, who was starting to become irritated.
      The cop ran after Nidal who ran the opposite way.
      "I'm too young for a prostate exam!" Nidal yelled with a laugh.
      But after a while, Nidal was caught and the cop was hardly gentle. When Nidal left the room an hour later, he walked as if he had a can up his ass.
      "That was....interesting." Nidal said after he rejoined Manson in the jail's main office.       Manson laughed, then he heard the cop at the desk say something that turned his expression sour.
      "Okay, Mr. Manson," the officer said, "your turn for a full cavity search."
      "Cavity search! You mean you're going to reach up my ass! Fuck that!" Manson said indignantly.
      But he too was pushed into the room where the lard ass cop waited with the rubber gloves.
      "Please strip, Mr. Manson." The long haired rocker was told.
      "Strip! And only on the first date! My aren't you a quick, get to the point one!" Smarted off Manson.
      The cop frowned.
     "I have no time for jokes."
     Manson looked around.
     "Okay. Do you wanna be on top, or shall I be?"
      The man grew irritated.
     "You're trying my patience very quickly."
     Manson walked over and tried to pick the man up, but was unsuccessful.
     "No, I'm trying your weight, and by the looks of it, you'd squash me."
     The man grabbed Manson by his hair, and finally, got through the search. He pushed him out of the room when he was done.
      "Hey! Is that all? One quick anal exam and boom!, I'm gone? How rude! You didn't even give me your phone number!" Manson said with a snicker.
      Now that their cavity searches were done, the somewhat sore feeling rock stars were made to remove their make-up with a jar of vaseline and toilet paper. Then the resident doc- tor removed all of their piercings, which were put in an envelope and put away in "safe keep- ing" for them and they were suited up and shown to their cell.
      In the cell with them were two large men.
      "Hey, hot stuff." One of the men said to Manson with a wink.
      Manson looked at the greasy ogre and shivered in disgust.
      "You're my bitch now." The other man said to Nidal.
      Nidal looked at the man in revulsion.
      The first man came over and put his arm around Manson. Manson smelled the disgusting man's terrible BO and almost fainted on the spot. The other guy came over and starting play- ing with Nidal's hair. Nidal quivered at the thought of that man's disgusting hands in his bea- utiful hair.
       "It's been awhile since we've had a new boyfriend. And now we've got two and they're big name rock stars." Said the man as he continued paw lustfully through Nidal's kinky locks.
       Nidal clenched his teeth and longed for Reznor. Manson, who was starting to feel the o- ther ughly slob's hands wander over him, tried to think of a way to escape. Suddenly, he got an idea.
       "Umm....we're called for." Manson said quickly.
       "Who?" The two molestors asked with curiosity.
       "I..uh..each other."He replied abruptly.
       Nidal and Manson shivered slightly at that thought, but said nothing more. The ogres stayed quiet after that.
       But then two words lingered in the rockers' ears from a guard. A couple of words that made Nidal and Manson shiver harder.
       "Bath time!" The guard had said.
       Nidal and Manson looked at each other.
       They didn't like each other, but they neither wanted their pretty bodies used by those brutes. As they walked slowly to the bathing room they each tried to think of a plan. When they walked in, and were made to strip, Nidal noticed something. It looked like a riding whip hanging in a closed off room. The only obstacle to getting it was the lock on the door of the room that held it and the fact the bars closing that room off were too narrow for even Nidal's skinny hand to pass through. Nidal looked around. He looked at Manson with a smile, then he looked past him and saw a towel. Using an old Beduin knotting trick, he made a ring in a corner of the towel and tossed the device through the bars. Immediately, he got the whip and pulled it to himself. Manson saw what the Arab was doing and nodded his approval. Nodding back, Nidal grabbed the whip and hid it in his towel. He walked with Manson, but a step be-   hind, to the showers.
        Just then, Manson and Nidal's two big, gruff cellmates walked up to them. One of them threw a bar of soap on the floor.
        "Oops, I dropped my soap. Get it for me." Demanded the greasy ogre with a twisted smile as his companion nudged him and grinned with a mouthful of yellow teeth.
        Nidal smiled and bent over, but before either of them could get near him, he whipped the one man over the wrist and the other in the face. Then Manson punched them both, and banged his head on them when they came back up. Finally, the word got out, and a couple of cops came in. When they found Manson and Nidal, the two rockers were instantly sent to so- litary confinement.
        A few hours later..."Hey dudes, you two can come out now!" A familiar voice said. The two boys were released from their cell and were given their clothing and body jewelry back.
        "What took you so long, Trent! We had to ward off two fuck heads who thought they'd rape me! Me! Virgo Nidal!" Yelled Nidal as he walked with Reznor and Manson out of the prison building.
        "If I ever meet those two sick fucks when they're out of prison, I will personally kick their asses." Manson almost screamed, then he winced as he put his lipring back in.
        "Ow!" He said
        "Well, you're okay now, I just paid bail, and a little something extra to get you guys out." Reznor said, motioning for them to follow him.
        Nidal flung his black hair and walked off in triumph. Manson fixed him with a stern look and followed. Their spirit of cooperation had dissipated once again and the old feelings of bitter rivalry had returned. These feelings really reared their ughly heads after they and Reznor arrived back at the hotel in the rockstar businessman's black BMW.
         "If wasn't for you and your long history of drug offenses, Marilyn, we never would have ended up in that jail in the first place." Said Nidal to Manson nastily just as both of them stepped out of the vehicle.
         "My long history? What about your own, you lowlife Libyan drug pusher." Snarled back Manson.
         The snide reference to his race caused something in Nidal to snap. There on the steps leading up into their tall hotel building, he tore into Manson with all of the fury of a Saharan sandstorm. Before Reznor could stop him, he starting in kicking, punching, and clawing at Manson with his fingernails, which though fairly short for ease in playing instruments, were still filed to a point. In the process, Nidal ripped out Manson's newly attached lipring. Manson shrieked in pain and knocked him to the cement sidewalk, pounding on his face as though he wanted to break every bone in it. Finally, the diminuative 5"6' Reznor managed to pull them apart.
         "All right you fucks, break it up, or I'll send you to jail, my jail. And it'll make the one you were in before seem like goth paradise." Screamed Reznor.
         Sullenly, Nidal and Manson stood up and walked lamely back to their rooms.
         That evening...."How could you boys! I mean getting busted for illegal drugs, then beat- ing up two other guys!"
          Manson and Nidal sat at two different sides of The Zodiac's room trying to ignore her lecture. The shock rocker with the mismatched eyes was holding a damp washcloth to his torn and still bleeding mouth. He looked even paler than usual and he was looking at his Arab nemesis with a look that said MURDER, while Nidal was staring at him with a look that said the same thing. The other Zodiacs had left the room and gone to the hotel lobby because Miss Tina had told them she wanted to talk with the two frontmen privately.
          "And Virg!" Continued the goth queen in a scolding tone. " Hitting a weaponless man with a riding whip? What were you thinking?"
          Nidal laughed a bit.
          "I was thinking 'I don't want two fat, ughly guys, who probably haven't really bathed in months, trying to fuck me'."
          Miss Tina flew up her arms and walked out of the room. Manson glared at Nidal, who was snickering, and left the room for his own, to go to sleep. Though he knew his dreams would not be sweet dreams after that experience.
          Infact, Manson was in so much pain that he couldn't sleep. He just sat on the edge of his bed holding the damp washcloth to his torn lip. All of his bandmates felt sorry for him, but really didn't know what to do. Ginger gave him pain killers, but they hadn't helped. Daisy wanted to take him to a doctor, but Manson was afraid that the doctor would demand stitch- es that would leave scars on his pretty mouth. He would probably be left with a scar anyway.
Pogo wanted to kill Nidal and Twiggy wanted to change his bloody washcloth for him. Man- son was near tears.
           Suddenly, the door burst open and in walked Nidal. He walked in the room and then stopped as Manson and his band glared at him with undisguised fury.
           "Go on!" Miss Tina said from behind him.
           Nidal sighed and rolled his eyes. Ignoring the others, he walked up to Manson and took the washcloth away. He stuck his two fingers on Manson's lip, and suddenly, it was healed and even had another lip ring in it! Manson felt his lip in surprise, while Pogo and the rest stared at him in disbelief.
           "I'm sorry I hurt your lip, Marilyn." Said Nidal in a hollow-sounding voice.
           Then he turned around, crossed his arms glumly, and marched from the room.
           "That was nice, Virg." Miss Tina said as she closed the door.
           Manson and his bandmates sat there for some time, bemused on what had just happen- ed.

Chapter Six

           At the next concert, Nidal stood up on the stage with his fist raised high. Everyone in the audience was positioned the same. With every line in the verse of the song he was sing-     ing, he'd punch the air. He sang his best songs and the crowd roared with excitement. Then he went into his version of "Sweet Dreams".
           "Sweet dreams are made of these." As he sang this, he ran his hand slowly down his body very suggestively. He grinned menacingly at the audience.
           "Who am I to disagree." He pointed at his chest and winked.
           "Travel the world and the seven seas." He swayed his hips and hands first to the left, then to the right in imitation of sea waves."
           "Everybody's looking for something." He made his hands like a mask and looked through it.
            "Some of them want to use you." He pointed a sharp fingernail at the audience.
            "Some of them want to be used by you." He pulled open his shirt to reveal his chest.
            "Some of them want to abuse you." He shook a riding whip at the audience.
           "Some of them want to be abused." He raked his fingernails across his chest leaving red welts.
            He continued the song, and before he was finished, he had thrown all his clothing into the audience. He stood on the stage wearing only a smile. The crowd screamed ecstatically. Nidal noticed Manson standing on the edge of the stage, where no one could see him, with his arms crossed grumpily. Nidal's grin grew. The Arab waved his hands through the air. Be- fore the audience knew what was happening, five ughly demons stood on stage, plus two fe- male demons that were actually pretty. These fetching demonesses danced nearly nude a-         round the stage. Nidal pointed at Manson and a huge demon bird landed on his shoulder. With a startled cry, Manson ran onstage. Before he could regain himself, he was surrounded by the five ughly demons. They picked him up. Nidal pointed to end of the stage, the way to- wards the audience. The demons walked, half jumped, to the edge. They threw Manson into the crowd of screaming, eager goths, and he began crowd surfing for the first time during that show. Nidal laughed. He pulled out his whip, and made the demons do tricks for a few moments. When he saw Manson walking back to the stage, looking furious and very dis- heveled, he grabbed a piece of the curtain. He tapped the curtain, and all the monsters walked into it, and in a puff of smoke one by one disappeared. Manson and his band then went on, but Manson really was no longer in the mood to perform, he just wanted revenge.
        That night... Manson snuck into The Zodiacs' room while they were out. He looked a-    round for the one thing that would pay off half of his revenge. Then he saw it. He picked up the cigarette holder that Nidal smoked hashish in. Manson pulled from his pocket his "hash-
ish cigarette" and put it in the holder. Manson laughed and swiftly left the room.
       Later on, The Zodiacs returned and Nidal strutted into the room to find his gold and ebo- ny cigarette holder where he had left it in his dressing table drawer. He put it to his lips and lit it. He took a deep inhale and gagged. He turned green and nearly barfed all over the place.
      "The stuff tastes like horse shit!" He gasped.
      Then he ran to the bathroom, where he stayed for the rest of the night.
       Reznor, on the other hand, sat in his room reading a magazine.
       "Marilyn Manson is great! The Zodiacs are fantastic! And their audience and fans are always waiting to see what will happen between these conflicting bands next. The people are always on the edge of their seats when they are onstage together. On a concert last May the two bands literally started trying to kill each other. What with a bomber on The Zodiacs' side, it's always interesting to see what the Marilyn Manson group will throw back. During one concert, they had made bases on the opposite sides of the stage and acted as though it were another world war. One fan says, 'When they are onstage together, we are all thinking, crap!, a war is going to break out and we're all gonna die! So what we are wondering is, what will they do next in their attempt to wipe each other out of the picture!'" Reznor read with a smile.
        "Wonderful!" He said with enthusiasm. "This is the smartest thing I have ever thought of! Now Nothing Records is in the black and not just in a gothic motif sense either!"
        Miss Tina walked in the room at that moment.
        "Here, read this." Reznor said, tossing her the magazine.
        After a couple of moments, Miss Tina looked up with a frown.
        "That's horrid!" She said with true feeling.
        "No, it's lovely!" Reznor said with a grin.
        "Is that what you have to say about this terrible thing?!" Said Miss Tina, her temper and her voice beginning to rise.
        "No, what I have to say is... I'm in the money! I'm in the money!" He said with a sing song voice.
        Miss Tina rolled her eyes in disgust and left the room.
        Then a few moments later, she suddenly burst through the door again, her small fair face bearing a look between anguish and terror!
        "Trent!," She screamed, "Call 911! It's Nidal! He got into another fight with Manson and caught himself on fire!"
        Reznor jumped up and dialed the number. In moments, Nidal, who was screaming in pain, was whisked to the hospital. The rock singer/tycoon loaded everybody into the tour bus and followed behind.
        In the hospital waiting room... "Die, please die!" Manson kept chanting, while his band mates concurred.
        "Oh no no no no!" Pisces kept saying.
        "Damn him, I told him not to touch my bomb 'til I was done." Aries said a bit disgusted.
        "I thought we were going out to eat, or umm....were we?" Leo asked confused.
        "Knucklehead!" Snarled Aries as he gave the dense keyboardist a good bop on the head.
        "I hope the doctors have a big enough band-aid for Nidal." Gemini said, his large eyes brimming with tears.
        Reznor and Miss Tina were near tears themselves, but they had to be strong for the o-      thers, so they sat there and fought them back.
        "I'm sure he'll pull through." Said the goth queen, who was trying to sound and look brave.
        "Our Virj is tough enough to survive worse'n that." Added Reznor who was trying to reassure everyone, especially himself.
        Just then, the Doctor came out.
        "He's gonna be okay, just some second degree burns. We'll keep him here for tonight."
        The Zodiacs looked at each other.
        "Yah!" They all yelled.
        Reznor and Miss Tina looked at each other and smiled with relief. The Manson group had a far different attitude, however.
       "Damn!" Exclaimed Manson in an irritated voice. Then he and his bandmates all walked out of the building disappointed.

Chapter Seven

       The next morning, Nidal came home in Reznor's black BMW. His right hand and arm were bandaged and the rest of him looked like he had been badly sunburned. As soon as he got home, he went to his room and laid down on his bed.
       "How are we feeling, Virgo?" Asked Miss Tina as she came in bringing him his breakfast.
       "Yeah, I really missed you." Said Pisces who had come in with the latest issue of Rolling Stone for his Great Leader. He looked worried.
       "I've never been in so much fucking ass pain. That Manson bitchboy made me grab that bomb and nearly get blown up." Said Nidal peevishly as he rubbed his bandaged arm.
       Miss Tina rolled her brown eyes and checked herself from saying, but you didn't have to grab that bomb, what business do you and Aries have fooling around with things like that anyway, but she realized that her charge was in no condition for a lecture.
       "I'm sorry you were hurt", She said instead kindly as she laid the bed tray in Nidal's lap, "What did the doctor say you were to do for your burns now that he's sent you home.
       Someone is to change my bandages and rub my burns with a special salve every day and I'm to take these pain killers three times a day. All that stuff is in my overnight bag." Said Ni- dal as he gestured towards the black leather, pentagram covered case with his unburned hand.
      "We'll take good care of you, kitten." Said Miss Tina as she kissed Nidal on his cheek and left him alone with Pisces to eat his morning meal.
      As she left the room, she met up with Reznor. She glared at him.
      "How is he?" Reznor asked gruffly.
      "He'll live, but he won't be doing any shows for the next couple of days, I'm afraid." Miss Tina told him.
      "Oh, why not? Was it his vocal chords that got burned?" Asked Reznor in a superior tone.
      No, but he has to rest if he's going to heal. He is in a lot of pain." Said Miss Tina who was trying hard to control her anger.
      He has a show to do tomorrow. Healed or not, he goes on stage." Reznor told her bluntly.
      "Trent, you're pushing! You used the financial crisis at Nothing Records as an excuse to take the management of Nidal and his band away from me! You bribed and wheedled The US State Department to get them into this country!" Miss Tina nearly yelled.
      "And I intend to keep them. Is that what you're saying?" Reznor asked.
      "Yes!" She blurted out.
      At that, Reznor sneered at Miss Tina and went into Nidal's bedroom where he was still eating.
      "So how're your burns, dude?" Asked Reznor as he plopped himself down in the velvet-covered dresser chair beside of Nidal's bed.
      "Terrible, man." Sighed Nidal as he took another nibble.
      "Well, you have a show to do tomorrow night, so you'll have to find a way to cover your burns and start rehearsing." Reznor told him matter-of-factly.
      Pisces looked on with a wince, but said nothing. Nidal frowned.
      "But, the doctor told me to rest for the next three days." He protested.
      "Never mind the doctor. I'm the one you have to answer to. And those next three days are scheduled for you and your guys to be onstage at The Javelin. It's the most popular gothic haunt in America and I had to sell my soul to get you a spot there. So don't you dare disap-      point me, Virgo." Said Reznor as he laid his hand possessively on Nidal's less burned shoul-   der.
      "All right, let me rest awhile, then I'll get my shit together." Sighed Nidal who felt like he was the one that had sold his soul.
      Satisfied, Reznor left him and his blue-haired drummer. As Reznor walked down the hallway to the in-house recording studio, he met with Manson who had just come back from a recording session. Manson looked at him questioningly.
      "How is ole Virgo the Virgin?" Asked Manson, who even though he loathed Nidal above all others, still felt a little sorry for him and even he felt that Reznor was pushing him too hard.
      "He's in good enough condition to do that show with you at The Javelin tomorrow night."Said Reznor smuggly.
      "Izzat so? Then either his burns weren't that bad....or else," And here Manson rolled his large miss-matched eyes knowingly, "he used the same occult healing powers to heal himself that he healed my lip with.
      "No, Marilyn, it doesn't work that way. From Catherine Khulmann to Edger Cayce, it's been proven that psychic healers, for some odd reason, can heal others, but never themselves.
Old Virj just has a super strong constitution." Said Reznor with a laugh.
      Manson's chalk white face grew thoughtful for a moment, then he went to the lounge where his band mates were relaxing over a video of The Exorcist and a humungous bowl of popcorn that Twiggy had just popped. The rest of The Zodiacs had gone in to comfort their Great Leader, each in his own way. As always happened whenever Nidal was out of action, Aries had taken over the band's leadership. After visiting awhile with Nidal, Aries, Leo, and Gemini had all gone out roller blading on the nearby sidewalk. It was a warm, sultry evening. The kind that made Nidal hate being cooped up.
      So feeling peevish and miserable, Nidal fussed, pouted, and expected everyone to wait on him hand and foot, especially Miss Tina, and Pisces, who never left his side. But, he also tried to make the best of his situation. He truly enjoyed the attention when Miss Tina gave him his medicine and when she and Pisces removed his nearly sheer green silk pajama suit and massaged him all over with the healing salve. Luckily, it was only Nidal's right arm, right shoulder, and the right side of his chest that had received the second degree burns, the rest of him just looked like peeling sunburn and his bushy black hair was only singed a little. Luckily too, Miss Tina had gotten Reznor to allow Nidal to rest until the next morning. There would be plenty of time for practicing with his band then.
     So between treatments, he just mostly rested, munched on munchies, and watched Daffy Duck cartoons.
     The next morning... Nidal dragged himself out of his sick bed and practiced and praticed and practiced. Then at 8:00 pm the curtain of The Javelin's stage lifted on him and his boys and he was once again their charismatic and awesome-voiced leader. He sang and swooped and strutted about the stage and he was the audience's great leader. Everyone noted that he had been hurt and admired him for coming on and doing his best inspite of it. Even Manson gave him grudging respect for this. At the end of the show, Nidal's many fans gave him their
sympathies and best wishes for a speedy recovery. Many of them even gave him get-well cards.
      In truth, Nidal, with the help of his medicine and additional drugs given him by Reznor, really did put on his best show ever in the dark glamour of The Javelin. And he did so three days in a row. But then at the end of those three contracted days, he went home, crawled into his green silk pajamas, and collasped in his bedroom, not wanting to see anyone or anything.
For the next week, Nidal just mostly called in sick- doing little more than watch Daffy Duck cartoons, read Khallil Gibran, enjoy having Miss Tina and Pisces wait on him, and sleep, sleep, sleep. For the duration, he largely stayed in his room, coming out only occasionally to shit, piss, shower, shave, or stock up on more munchies. Even Reznor let him be. Even he could appreciate that he had earned his rest.
      Luckily, Nidal's dusky male beauty would not be marred by the smallest scar. His burns had not been that deep.
      Later that week... Nidal woke up in pain. He pulled himself from his bed and slowly walked into the bathroom. After he took a shit, he looked in the mirror. Although his pretty face had not been scarred, it still looked like he had been badly sunburned. But it was heal- ing. His right hand, right arm, and the right side of his chest, which had been scorched, were healing nicely as well. Of course, the whole upper right side of him was still wrapped up tightly, as if he were a mummy. The rest of his body was peeling, as though from a sun- burn, to match his face.
       Nidal sighed and looked under the sink. Without further thought, he pulled out a syringe
and planted it in his left arm. After a moment, Nidal stumbled back to bed, seeing pretty co-    lors.
       Later that day... Nidal was about to dose himself again, when the bathroom door opened. There stood his lovely mother, Candice Crawford, staring down on him.
       "Son, we've got to talk." She said, taking the syringe.
       Nidal rolled his eyes, but did not resist. They walked out to her white Camaro and then went for a ride to the place she was staying at. At the end of the ride, they entered the large house and sat in the living room.
       "I love you very much, Virgil, but you are hurting your health and you are putting your-self in danger. I mean look at yourself and see what all of your drugs and fighting have done to you.." Miss Crawford said seriously.
        "It's my life mother." Nidal replied, tossing his curly hair.
        "This is just a warning, if you keep it up, you might not be here tomorrow." She answer- ed with a hint of caution in her voice.
        "Psh, whatever." Was his careless reply.
        She shook her head and left the room. Nidal called a taxi and went home, but neither he nor his mother spoke again that day.
        Later that night... Nidal got into his bed with the words his mother had said in the mist of his mind. He smiled and mentally shook his head. Then he went to sleep. But while he slept he had a terrible dream. In this nightmare the Arab rocker found himself running through a warped, cartoon-like landscape. Suddenly, a hole opened up before him, and he fell through it. As he fell, he saw broken guitars and mutilated people and animals falling down with him. In with the mutilated people, he saw his family and friends. Hashish cigarettes, mounds of cocaine, pot filled bongs, and all of the other narcotics and their accouterments began to surround him. Even more nightmarishly still, he saw them grow arms and legs and became like living animated beings. They whispered to him in eerie, menacing voices, trying to persuade him to do things. Nidal gripped his head and shrieked, as his abysmal plunge continued. There was nothing for him to hang unto, nothing to stop or even slow his fall down the black hole. Finally, he landed with a hard hit! At that moment, he woke up as if someone had picked him up and dropped him suddenly and violently. He laid there in a cold sweat for many hours after that, thinking only of what he'd become.
      A few days later... Nidal lay on his bed in his silk night clothes. Suddenly, the door open- ed and Manson came in with a very serious expression on his pale, thin face. Nidal said no-     thing of his coming in.
      "Virgo, we've really got to talk." He said almost sternly. Nidal lifted an eyebrow but did not deny the fact.
      "We've been at each other's throats since day one." Continued Manson, " But why? And because we are such dumb asses, you could have been seriously hurt." Nidal couldn't help but agree.
      "Could have? Was? What's your point, Marilyn?" Nidal asked with as serious a voice as Manson's.
      "Well, my point is, it's got to stop. Next time, I might be killed!" Manson said. Nidal's al- mond-shaped eyes widened.
      "Or you." Manson quickly added. Nidal's tawny face suddenly grew paler.
      "Listen, Virgo," went on Manson as his tone became more friendly and less stern, "it's time we made a truce. We don't have to be friends, but we won't try to kill each other, and our band members will lay off each other. Sound good?"
      Nidal thought about this for a second. Manson was very right. Next time, one of them might get hurt a lot worse. He was also right about the fact that they had not given each other a chance. They had just torn into each other. Nidal pondered about the advantages and disad- vantages of making a truce with his rival.
     "Okay, Marilyn, first let's do pro/con." Nidal said a bit jokingly.
     "All right, con, we might kill each other." Said Manson.
     "Pro, the fans love our fighting." Nidal put in.
     Manson nodded his head.
     "Con, we drive a lot of fans away with our fighting though." Remarked Manson.
     Nidal agreed.
     "Pro, we're making big money off of our fighting." Nidal said.
     "Con, we are destroying our careers by trying to destroy each other." Put in Manson.
     Nidal stopped.
     "You're right. And if we stop fighting, we might even get more publicity, because it'll be such a shock to the fans." Laughed Nidal.
     Manson smiled and extended his hand.
     "Truce?" He asked.
     "Truce." Nidal said, gripping his hand and shaking it wholeheartedly.

Chapter Eight

       Days and weeks passed, and soon Nidal was healed completely. Since his accident and the truce with Manson that had come of it, he and Manson had kept by that truce, although it would remain a secret between them for a long time. For appearances sake, they still continued to have their onstage confrontations, though these were decreasing in ferocity as time went by. Though Manson and Nidal still sometimes argued behind the scenes, they never came to blows. Their band members who were, of course, eager to follow the leader, also became less confrontational.
   "Whew!", Remarked Miss Tina to Reznor with obvious relief as she stood beside Reznor watching the Zodiacs and the Manson group walk past each other on the way to their separate dressing rooms without either of them even trying to pick a fight , "things appear to be de-escalating between our boys!"
   "Just as long as they don't de-escalate too much. There's big money in violence and our company is just getting out of the red." Said Reznor with a frown.
   "And if they killed each other, how much money could you make off of them then?" Asked Miss Tina with barely controlled anger.
   "I'd make sure it never got that far." Said Reznor with a careless laugh.
Miss Tina felt like slapping Reznor in the face, but didn't dare.
"Trent, how can you be so blinded by your own overconfidence and desire to control! You can't seem to see that your desire to control the Zodiacs and make money off them is blind- ing you to far more important matters. It has become a sick obsession with you." She said sternly.
   "Miss Tina," Said Trent as he looked down on the pretty little woman condescendingly, "We are all obsessed by one thing or another.
   With that he left her staring angerly after him as he went to the music hall lobby's coke machine. The word "coke" made him think of Nidal and his second career as a dealer in another kind of "coke". Thought Reznor as he put his two quarters in the soft drink machine's slot, Nidal gets his cocaine from Columbia, his hashish from Iran, and only the Devil knows where he gets his ectasy. Reznor laughed quietly at that as the can of coke tumbled out of the innards of the dispensing machine like a machical creature giving birth.
    But ever since his nightmare, his accident with the bomb, and his truce with Manson, Nidal had started to ease-off on the drugs, at least as far as his own consumption of them was concerned. He was down to only one pack of hashish cigarettes a day, he now snorted cocaine only on weekends, and had cut out ectasy altogether. Manson himself had cut down on his own drug intake. It seemed that their almost fatal episode with Aries' unfinished bomb had shaken them both up.
    It was just as well. The two shock rockers had other less toxic pleasures to pursue now. Nidal had fallen in with Nancy and Ann Wilson of the rock group Heart. They thought he was cute, so much so, infact, that they hired him to pose, both nude and semi-nude, in all of their rock videos. He didn't sing or even speak in any of them, just showed off his pretty face and body as they and their group sang and performed. In one of the most notible of these, he struck a series of sensuous poses against a black background as neon lights flickered across his naked body and Nancy trilled her latest hit, "Black Magic Lover" in the forefront. One thing, of course, lead to another and soon Nidal was dating the Wilson Sisters. Their shared him equally between themselves and there was no jealousy between them. Reznor, though, had resented the mange a trois at first, especially since it did not include him. But then he had reluctantly let his "starship" go to his new captains, while remaining at ground control, so to speak, as Nidal's manager.
     Meanwhile, Manson had met famous porno queen, Pamela Anderson, through their mutual friend, Howard Stern, and they had taken an instant liking to each other. Then it was lust.
    So it wasn't surprising that one hot August night Nidal had driven with Nancy and Ann to a well-known, but still intimate lover's lane high in the hills overlooking New Orleans. A few eager minutes later, they had parked the black cadillac in a drove of pines and Nancy and Ann had begun playing with Nidal's cock which was standing up stiffly between them, the silver ring in its head glistening in the moonlight. Nidal's cock ring was unique, it had a bead on it that was shaped like a little devil. Some distance away, in another grove of pines, Manson was rubbing his cock between Ms. Anderson's huge breasts as they sat in Manson's black porsche. Since Manson and Nidal were no longer enemies, neither one of them disturbed the other's pleasure. But even if they had still been enemies they probably would have been to engrossed in their pleasures to even care that the other one existed.
      Back at Nothing Records, Reznor and Miss Tina were not so carefree. Infact, quite the contrary.
      "Why did you go against my orders to have The Zodiacs do a show at that grunge club?" Demanded Reznor as he slammed his fist down on his desk, sending the papers on it flying every which way.
     "Trent, ever since I've known them, The Zodiacs have never been recieved well by a grunge rock audience. I know by personal experience that they would have bombed last night at The Bung Hole had I followed your orders and let them play there." Explained Miss Tina in a slow, measured voice.
     Reznor leaned his face in his hands rubbing his smooth black hair. He had to admit, though his pride made it hard to do so, that Miss Tina was right. After all, she had found Nidal and his group when they were still just a garage band in a Florance hovel trying to make ends meet. Reznor lifted up his head and looked with exasperated deep blue eyes at the indomnible little Goth Queen.
     "Then you did the right thing." Reznor sighed.
     "Thank you, Trent." Replied Miss Tina stiffly.
     "You saved The Zodiac's from a major career set back." Said Reznor with a note of grudging appreciation.
     "I'm well aware of that Trent." Miss Tina said with a hint of sarcasm in her strong, lovely voice.
     "Stop competing with me, Miss Tina." Said Reznor severely as he jabbed a slender finger in her direction.
     "Trent", said Miss Tina with a sigh, "if I may say so, it's you who are competing with me. Ever since you brought The Zodiacs over here, you've done nothing but control them and push them. You haven' t done one show of your own with your Nine Inch Nails group and you haven't recorded one album. That plus your unfamiliarity with The Zodiacs' background could, as I see it, put their career in serious jeoperdy."
      Reznor frowned at Miss Tina. Then he thought for a moment and it slowly dawned on him that she was right, she had been right all along. He had become so obsessed with control over the foreign born rockers that it had gone to his head. The accident that had burned his prize rock star had gradually forced him to see a lot of things that he had refused to see before, especially about himself.
     "Then I'd like you to nursemaid me along in this." Said Reznor with a sheepish smile.
     "That's what I've been trying to do all along, Trent." Miss Tina said with a sweet forgiving smile.
    Then she turned to go. Reznor rose up from his desk and reached out to her with his hand.
   "Please, don't leave yet, Miss Tina. I feel we have a bit more to talk about. You see, we've been working together all this time and we never really got to know each other. I feel that's bad business practice, don't you agree?" Asked Reznor earnestly.
   "Yeah, I agree, Trent," Said Miss Tina with an interested look in her beautifully shadowed brown eyes, "but why don't we do our get acquainted thing over a cup of coffee in the cafeteria. I feel like a need one."
    "Me too." Said Reznor as he stood up and escorted her there.

Chapter Nine
     Once both Reznor and Miss Tina had sat down with their cups of steaming brew, they began to unwind together as they had never done before. They talked long and in depth about their pasts, interests, and ambitions. Miss Tina revealed that her name had once been Beth McCartney and that she was a distant relative of Beatle Paul McCartney. She told of her tough childhood in the English port city of Liverpool and of Ralph, her dock worker father, who as he loaded and unloaded vast cargo ships, would sing like an opera star. Indeed, it was from him that she had inherited a fine wide-ranged voice and a passion for music, a passion that he encouraged her to pursue since he had missed his chance to excell as a singer. Her mother, Alice, worked as a fishmonger as it was from her that Beth had inherited her doll like beauty and the strong will that seemed in sharp contrast to it. She also encouraged her daughter to develope her musical talent to the utmost and though it was hard on the family financial-wise, joined Ralph in hiring a voice and piano instructor for her.
    Beth had two younger brothers, Jones and Henry, both of whom had followed in their father's footsteps and become dockworkers. She had learned her leadership skills from buttling them when her mother was away in the fish stalls and left her in charge.
    The girl, whose hair really was black due to a strain of black Irish on her father's side, was very smart as well as strong and talented. After graduating from Liverpool's working class high school and having gone as far as she could with her musical tutor's training, Beth decided that the time had come for her to launch her own musical career.
    Reznor, who had been listening intently to the lovely lady beside him this whole time grew thoughtful and then interjected a thought,
    "So, you're from Liverpool." He said with a friendly laugh, "Well, that explains a lot of things."
    "Like what?" Asked Miss Tina with a sutle smile.
    "Like your slight English accent. But why do you call yourself Faustantine?" Asked Reznor with real interest.
    "Because Faust was a legendary German sorcerer who was deep into black magic and soon after I got my back-up band, The Axemen, together I got really heavy into black magic myself. It was my bassest, Jeffery, who introduced me to it along with my first fling with sex. He was something of a warlock and still is from what I hear." Miss Tina blushed slightly as she related this.
   Then she went on to tell of how she and her group broke into the British music scene as heavy metal punk rockers during the eighties when punk rock was surpreme. Of how she had briefly contemplated calling her band The Ax Murderers, but then decided that the pop scene wasn't ready for such dark imagery. Of her career ups and downs and of how she had briefly dated Billy Idol. She became a world wide sensation in 1982 and in both style and stage persona was known as something of a cross between Cindy Lauper and a witch.
     She recounted with justifiable pride of the day that she had performed on the stage of New York's finest rock music hall dressed in a top hat, a black body suit, a white vest, a white collar with a black bowtie, low-heeled black slippers and with her long black hair frosted with flourescent blue highlights and her face painted not only white but flourescent white. These effects were doubly highlighted by the fact that the lighting of the stage area had been dimmed to deep blue semi-darkness. The crowd had gone wild when Faustantine,
thus dressed had launched into her version of Black Sabbath's "Electric Funeral" in a voice that had been electronically modified to sound deep, resonant, and gutteral.
      Then in 1984, she had parted company with her band, pursued a solo career for a brief while, and 1987 had left the performing circuit altogether and entered the business side of the music industry exclusively. Luckily, she had taken business training while in high school for this girted her well for the position she was to hold from then on -- manager of the rock stars! In this capacity, she was always on the look out for new talent, especially in Europe. Her business career reached it's zenith when she discovered The Zodiacs who at that time were staying in a rundown house in the poorest part of Florence, Italy, playing for local parties of all kinds and just trying to keep from starving. The Zodiacs, who were all in their teens at that time, had an interesting history. Virgo Nidal had met Gemini Ramirez and Pisces Baader-meinhof, who names were really Kareem al-Souf and Gassim al-Haddi, while training at a cadet school in Benghazi. The three of them had become very close friends with Nidal, who had taken the name of Momar al-Gafi for the duration, being looked on as the leader and role model by the other two. Following their graduation, the three boys had been sent to Angola where they went through the rigors of a guerrilla warfare training camp, read terrorist training camp. While there, they fell in with Abdul al-Gafar, a Palestinian and Juan Rodrigres Quatro, a Cuban. But after their training was complete, the five boys had decided to form a music group instead of a terrorist or revolutionary group. Quatro and al-Gafar, of course, became Aries Guevara and Leo Habash. So they had pooled what money they had and fled to Italy where they settled down and began to try breaking into the European death metal field, which unfortunately was not readily expecting them because of their brown skins and strange accents. They needed someone to help them break through the color and cultural barrier. That someone was Faustantine. As soon as she found them, she hired them. Then she couched them on perfecting their musical style and "evil" image. She even helped them speak better English. Once she had the quintet polished up, she promoted them and they became an instant sensation all over Europe in 1985.
      Nidal still had no idea who his father was and his mother wouldn't tell him anything beyond that he had been a handsome desert nomad who had saved her from a sandstorm while she was doing a shot in North Africa. In resentment at her secrecy about this and at her for being, in his opinion, endlessly and sappily goody-goody, Nidal had rebelled against his gorgeous model-movie star mother and had run off to first Egypt, then Libya.
      But the 16 year old half-Arab, half-American still needed a parent, so Faustantine became both a mother and a father to him, and to his bandmates as well, of course. The emotional bond was strongest and deepest of all between her and Nidal and as he grew older the emotional texure of this bond began to change. At 17, he developed a crush on her, then at 18 he was fucking with her. But it didn't last. By the time that Nidal was 19, they were back to a more platonic relationship again. This was not because of their age difference, however, but because Nidal already had an ego as big as a house and seemed to be head over heels in love with only himself. But Faustantine had forgiven his this flaw and resolved to always be close to him, if only as his manager and mentor. And now it was 1995 and her pretty brown "kitten" had been snatched away from her by the man who was now sitting beside her sipping his coffee and staring at her with intent blue eyes. She looked at Reznor sadly as she thought of this and finished up the recounting of the details of her life to date.
     As Miss Tina started in sipping her own coffee, which had gotten cold during her lengthy dialogue, Reznor thought of all that she had just told him and began to understand a lot of things that hadn't been clear to him before. Like why she had so fiercely resented his taking over the management of The Zodiacs from her and why she had been able to, he had to ad- mit, manage them so well. Realizing this, Reznor felt like an egotistical, insensitive heel and he resolved to give Miss Tina more respect and more leeway from then on.
     He also wanted to break the ice between them and he knew that the best way to do it would be by telling Miss Tina more about his background now that she had told him so much about her own. He had not an easy time of it either. While she had been a child of poverty, he had been a child of divorce. This divorce, which had occured when he was only 7 years old and still known by his full name of Micheal Trent Reznor, had robbed him of both parents and left him to be raised by his grandparents. His sister had been placed in the custody of his mother and he rarely saw anything of either of them. Later on, he and his sister would grow to be quite close, since they were all they had. He had been born in Pennsylvania and was very proud of his New England roots. These showed in his fine narrow facial features and the charmingly somber side of his dispostion. Also in the inner strength that made him a natural leader.
      The early family break-up had affected the young Trent severely and because of his tendency towards somberness, he was to carry this pain with him for the rest of his life. But there was solace, he explained as he stirred his second cup of coffee and looked at Miss Tina with soulful blue eyes, and that solace was music. From a very young age, Trent showed a fine skill at the piano and could have gone on to become a famous classical pianist had he wanted to take that musical pathway. He also proved that he had a good voice and pro- nounced acting ability. This latter talent came to light when he played the part of Judas in his school's version of "Jesus Christ Superstar". He was so good, infact, that his classmates voted him best school actor of the year.
      "So, you played Judas Iscariat. I think that's cool and I must say the role really suited you." Said Miss Tina who was beginning to see that there were more interesting sides to the dark handsome man beside her than she had supposed.
      "You think so?" Reznor said with a chuckle.
      "Certainly. And it reminds me all of the times that I played the witch of Endor and Jezebel in school plays." Said Miss Tina with a wistful smile.
      "You must have been the prettiest witch and Jezebel to ever set foot on stage." Reznor said with a smile.
      "Yes, I was well recieved and every guy wanted to date me, especially after I had played the part of Jezebel." Said Miss Tina with a slight blush which caused Trent to feel mildly excited. He cleared his throat and went on.
      He explained how he had taken music in college, along with computer technology and a class on how to make music on computers. Miss Tina's brown eyes opened wide on learning this, for here was proof that her coffee companion and rival for control of The Zodiacs was a person of genius and well as talent and will to power. She liked that in a man. She also found herself appreciating him more when he explained how he, just like herself, had needed to start out at the bottom. Soon after graduating with several degrees, he had gone to work as a janitor in the recording studio of Interscope music company. This was just to get his feet in the door of the recording business and in between janitor jobs, he had devoted his time to perfecting his musical talent and writing songs. Before long, these songs came to the atten- tion of the recording studio's manager who encouraged Reznor to get his own band together and start recording them. So, he formed Nine Inch Nails and was soon a sensation. One of the most interesting facts about this group is that, aside from Reznor himself there are no permanent band members. Reznor simply hires the best musicians whenever he wants to perform and he almost always hires new ones.
       But Reznor was still not satisfied. He had ambitions as a businessman as well as a rockstar. So he founded his own record company which he called Nothing Records and went on to produce and promote a whole galaxy of heavy metal stars, who included, of course, Marilyn Manson and The Zodiacs. Miss Tina smiled warmly at Reznor when he related this. After all, that was sort of the way that her own career had progressed, the only difference being that he had remained in the rock music performing circuit, while she had retired from it completely. How much they had in common!
        The shock rocker and the goth queen went away from their cafetaria coffee klatch with a completely difference view of each other. And this view was to favorably color their deal- ings with each other from then on. Reznor and Miss Tina began to treat each other as part- ners rather than rivals, with Reznor even being willing to let her take the lead where the Zod-
iacs were concerned, much to The Zodiacs vast relief. A bond of mutual respect and admi-
ration began to grow between them that showed in the way that they treated each other. It wasn't long before Reznor and Miss Tina were going out for meals together and he would take her for thrill rides on his black harley. It was evident that the former competitors were fast becoming friends, then they were more than friends.
       One evening in late August, Manson had been unwinding after a particularly gruelling recording session with his band by roller blading up and down the hallways of his house, giggling and chasing after Ginger with a cigeratte lighter and a bottle of fake fire generating fluid trying to set his drummer's black lace-up boots on fire. But Ginger, also giggling, had managed to keep ahead of his frontman's fiery mischief so far.
      Then Manson, still in hot pursuit, turned a corner and heard romantic late 60's syle music coming from behind a door. It was "Love Is Everywhere" by The Troggs. Manson recognized it from hearing it played so many times by his mother who was fond of it. Although this type of music wasn't what he particularly liked, the slender rocker had to admit that it was pretty. Curious, he opened the door where the music was coming from and peeped in a crack with his large mis-matched eyes. They grew even larger when he saw Miss Tina being twirled around the room in the arms of Reznor. He was wearing a tight black leather jumpsuit and she was wearing a short dress made entirely of sheer black lace with nothing on underneath. Both of them looked ecstatic and it obviously wasn't from ingesting ecstacy. As Manson continued to watch, the goth man and goth woman went in one fluid movement from danc- ing close, to Reznor feeling up Miss Tina's dress and then raising up the skirt of her dress and lowering her to the thick carpeting of the floor where he then proceeded to put his head between her legs and eat her out like a hungry man. Manson giggled quietly as Miss Tina began to moan in the grasp of pleasure, then he resumed his playful harassment of Ginger, pleased with the realization that the two former rivals were rivals no longer. As it was, things were even softening up between his own bitter rival and himself.

Chapter Ten

     Now when the two frontmen walked past each other or happened to be in the same room together, Nidal not only didn't try to pick a fight with Manson, but he would smile and nod in the other man's direction or wave at him with his fingers, and Manson would do the same. Often they would give each other a brief, "Whuzzup?" or "How's it hanging, dude?" Their bandmates too had long ago replaced off-stage confrontation with increasingly friendly tolerance.
      Then one day, Manson walked into their recording studio's cafetaria and found Nidal sitting with his group eating a cheese burger and wearing a KISS T-shirt. KISS happened to be one of the groups who had inspired Manson to be what he had become. Not able to resist making a comment, the long haired rocker, who had just gotten a plate of spaghetti, walked over to Nidal.
       "What a cool shirt, man!" He said with real appreciation, "I didn't know you were a KISS fan."
       "I've been one since I was a little kid." Said Nidal with a broad smile. "Infact, they've been one of my major musical influences, along with Alice Cooper and David Bowie."
       "Those were my heros too." Said Manson who was truly surprised to here this. "I've got all their records, plus I've got the shelves in my room lined with every KISS action figure that ever was made.
       "I've got all of the KISS, Alice Cooper, and David Bowie albums too. Hey, why don't you join me, man, there's still room for one more here, then we can talk about this stuff some more." Invited Nidal as he gestured towards an empty chair that was right across from him. Nidal's band mates smiled and nodded at Manson and then went back to what they had been engrossed in. Aries was eating while reading "The Anarchist's Cook Book", while the others were just eating.
       "Why not." Said Manson with a careless shrug of his boney shoulders as he sat down in the seat, placing his spaghetti meal before him. His blue and brown eyes glanced over at the burger Nidal was still eating.
        "I see you didn't take any of the spaghetti." Manson commented as he wrapped some of his own around a fork with surprisingly good manners.
        "I hate that kind of shit." Said Nidal nibbling on a pickle.
        "But this really is good. Don't you like Italian food?" Asked Manson who was a little puzzled by Nidal's extreme reaction.
        "I like other kinds of Italian food, I just can't stand speghetti. It was all my band and I had to live on during the time we were in Italy, that and the garden vegetables neighbors would give us. Arrrrgh! And I always ended up being the cook. Believe me, a person can get fucking tired of trying to find new ways of putting veggies and spaghetti together so they don't get boring." Said Nidal with a faint smile.
        Manson raised an eyebrow at the swarthy man across from him.
        "You never told me you were in Italy." He commented.
        "You never asked." Said Nidal registering an unmistakable hint of hurt in his green cat-like eyes and black-rouged pouty mouth.
        Manson didn't quite know what to make of that, so he decided to change the subject somewhat.
        "It must have been beautiful there, with the sunny climate and all of those old picturesque villages. Where in Italy were you and your guys?" Asked Manson as he tried to spear a meat ball that was dodging him.
        "We were living in Florence and yes, it was beautiful, warm, and sunny, at least most of the time. But times were still hard for us. We were living in the middle of the city slums in this crumbling rundown stucco villa that must have gone back to the 16th Century. Every time it rained it would leak in a different place, and contrary to what they say, it really does rain in sunny Italy. And the cockroaches, fucking H. Christ, they were worse than a scene in one of your videos." Said Nidal with a trace of intentional humor.
        "That would have to be pretty bad." Laughed Manson, "In one video, my whole body is actually covered with them."
        "But that wasn't the worst part." Said Nidal as he finished off the remains of his burger.
        "What was the worst part?" Asked Manson who was wondering what indeed could be worse.
       "The people's attitude there. Because we were foreigners and especially four Arabs and one Cuban, people looked down on us. Worst of all, it was hard for us to be heard musically because in Italy, Death Metal is thought to be a white man's thing and we with our brown skins and non-European accents just didn't fit in. Even Aries' brand of Spanish is different from what you'd hear in Lisbon." Said Nidal with a bit of anger and sadness combined.
        On hearing this, Manson suddenly felt sorry for Nidal and had to fight the impulse to go over to him and put his arm around his boney shoulders. At that moment, he began to wonder if he too might have given Nidal the same unfair treatment and for the same reasons.
        "Yeah," Manson said gently, "nothing sucks like race prejudice. But Miss Tina did eventually find you guys and bring you out of your beflowered slum, didn't she?"
        "Yes, she did. We couldn't have made it without her." Said Nidal sincerely. "But, she didn't just rescue us from poverty and race bigotry, she also helped us develope our musical skills. Which reminds me, how are you coming along with that new concept album you're working on, something about an Antichrist?"
        "It's still in the planning stage," Manson said as he twirled the last bit of spaghetti around his fork and popped it in his pouty mouth, "Twiggy and I are writing up a storm."
        "Cool!" Said Nidal as he washed down the last bite of his burger with his coke.
        "So how are you coming along with your own concept album, "Repossessed"? Asked Manson with friendly interest.
        "We've been recording it and aside from a few hitches here and there it's coming together like the Devil's dream come true." Nidal said with a laugh.
        "There you go copying me again, Nidal", Said Manson with mock outrage,"I go to work on an Antichrist album, so you have to do one about demon possession. I'll bet if I caught a cold, you'd manage to catch pneunomia."
        He was just teasing and was in no way prepared for the reaction he recieved from Nidal. A look of extreme sadness clouded the frizzy-haired shock rocker's narrow face and as he stood up to leave the table, he laid a hand on Manson's arm. This time, Manson did not jerk away from his grasp as he ordinarily would have.
        "Manson, along with the other rock influences I mentioned I must add you. Infact, you have been the greatest influence on my life of them all. I even joined your fan club a year or two ago. Check the Marilyn Manson Family's list if you don't believe me." Said Nidal with a voice full of something like earnest respect as he walked away to deposit his recycleable plate and other eating utinsils in the nearby trash.
        Manson felt his heart fall to the pit of his skinny stomach as he stared after his rival in shock and unbelief. Could Nidal have been telling him the truth? He had to check this out for himself.
        That very same day, Manson phoned the head of his fan club and asked if there was a member by the name of either Virgo Nidal or Virgil Carlyle Crawford.
         "Yes, there is, Marilyn," was the soft-voiced girl's reply, "he joined in 1993 under Virgil Carlyle Crawford".
         Manson thanked the girl and hung up. Then he put his head on his folded arms and wept tears of shame. How could he have been so blind? How could he have been so mistaken. He had committed the worst and most self-destructive sin a rock star could possibly commit - turning against a fan!
   As he continued to shed remorseful tears there on his bedroom dressing table, he recalled all of the times that Nidal had approached him, wanting his approval, wanting him to like him and he had crudely rebuffed him every time. Even before the incident when the servile Pisces and dutiful Ginger had argued over them like small children while they sat smiling shit-eating grins on opposite ends of Reznor's sofa, Nidal had earnestly tried to befriend him. And he had rejected his Arab counterpart for no better reason than that he was a Libyan. Ironically, Nidal was only half-Libyan, but Manson realized that even if the guy had been all-Libyan that was still no rational reason to mistreat him. But then there were the little quirks of Nidal's that related to his race and which Manson had found obnoxious. Like when Nidal had thrown a tantram because Manson had rode a pig on stage, like his comtemptuous treatment of Jewish Pogo, like his priggish objection to even the mildest form of alcohol, while ingesting all manner of hard narcotics. But inspite of these lapses, Nidal really had all along been trying to adjust, to become truly westernized, Manson had just been refusing to see this. Then too he began to understand that underneath Nidal's egotistical, swaggering, wise guy exterior there trembled a little boy who been ridiculed and treated like he was some kind of a monster because of his Libyan heritage. Indeed, Nidal's whole stage persona had been based on that because he figured that if people were going to call him a "terrorist" and a "superfiend" then he might just as well play that part to the hilt and make good money off of it to boot. So he had chosen a profession where he could use his great talents and also where the more shocking and evil he could be, the better!
       Brushing the last tear from his alabaster white face, Manson stood up and vowed to himself that from then on he would treat Nidal better. After all, Nidal was his fan and, what was more, a fan who had based his whole musical career on his example. Therefore, Manson knew that the Arab shock rocker was his responsibility and that it was his duty to help him in every way that he could rather than hurt or hinder him.
        Manson was so distraught over his former treatment of Nidal that he went to Reznor and poured out his feelings.
        "Just treat him like the other singers and musicians who've looked to you as their role model. Offer him advice and include him in things and I'm sure he'll forgive you." Said Reznor as he laid his hand on Manson's shoulder in an understanding way. Manson smiled and felt better.

Chapter Eleven
        From then on, Manson was much nicer to Nidal and Nidal, of course, responded. Whenever he saw the Arab shock rocker who was still somewhat a stranger to the American way of doing things, needing suggestions and encouragement, he gave them to him rather than just sneer at him as he usually did. To his surprise, Nidal responded with respect and gratitude. It was as though he had been hungry for Manson's attention all along. Miss Tina appreciated Manson's new tact and told him so.
        "He always was your number one fan." She said with a wink.
        And Manson showed more than just professional consideration to Nidal. Whenever he and his guys went for an outing like on a camping trip, or to the zoo, or to the beach, he would always invite Nidal and his Zodiacs to come along too. While at the beach, the Marilyn Manson group and The Zodiacs would often form teams and play games with a beach ball. It would all be in a spirit of healthy fun with all of the former antagonisms and bitter rivalries gone like a bat out of hell. Their violent rivalries they saved for their stage productions, although these too had diminished in ferocity to the point of where they were mere lampoons of real violence. Reznor did not object to this since his rock show's audi- ences seemed not able to tell the difference between a lampoon and the real thing anyway. Besides, the financial crisis that had shadowed his business and had driven him to possess the Zodiacs to begin with was now over and dead. Everyone could afford to chill out.
      And the two former rivals were fast discovering the other facets of themselves and of each other. While Manson was deeply involved with producing his "Antichrist Superstar", he became increasingly frustrated when he discovered that most of the people around him had no interest in and no knowledge of the deeper concepts on which his concept album was based, that is, Fredrich Neitzche, Revelation, The Kabbala, Aleister Crowley, and Tantric magic. Not even his own band members seemed to want to discuss these subjects with him. Then one evening when they both happened to be in the living room of their house, Manson sat down with Nidal, shared some cocaine that the Arab offered him, and gave voice to his frustrations. Nidal smiled and began talking with him and soon the Ohio born rocker began to discover that Nidal was not really the featherhead that he usually gave the impression of being. Just for openers,although he was a Moslem, his knowledge of the Apocalypse was astounding. He and Manson sat there together into the wee hours of the morning comparing Nietzche with Khallil Gibran, Crowley with the great Sufi Masters, the Koran with the Bible, and Daffy Duck with the Cat In The Hat. At three o'clock in the morning, Twiggy came into the room to find both of them curled up together sound asleep as Daffy Duck cartoons blared on the TV set right across from them.
      Along with being on more friendly terms with Manson, now that Manson had warmed to him, Nidal was showing his more positive side in other ways too, chiefly in his talent for psychic healing. Manson would never forget the day that he, Nidal, and Pisces had been walking along on the sidewalk when suddenly an accident occured on the street beside them. Two cars collided in a horrific crash of glass and steel and when it was over, a man with a bleeding head tore himself out of the wreckage and ran to a nearby gas station for help. The person in the other vehicle, a woman in a blue dress, crawled out of the tangled snarl, but she did not take off running for help. She couldn't because from the way that her skull had been split and her brain exposed, she was too badly hurt, infact, she was dying. She just sat there against the crumpled ruin that had once been her car's hood and stared at the three men across from her dazedly.
     "Hold me...", she had whimpered to them, "Please someone hold me."
     Manson had stared at her and balked. He truly felt sorry for the lady, but he was still so full of bitterness at the way other people had treated him that all he could think of was, if she and I were to trade places, would she run to comfort me? Probably not, he thought to him- self petulantly. But Nidal had no such petty qualms. Without hesitating a moment, the purportly vicious Arab rocker had gone over to the lady and not only held her, but healed her as he directed Pisces to go fetch an ambulance and a Policeman appeared on the scene to direct traffic around them. As it turned out, Nidal had saved the women's life. It only goes without saying that she became one of his biggest fans. Every time that he thought of the incident, Manson felt ashamed and vowed to not to ever let his own past mistreatment cause him to mistreat others again.
     Often, Manson himself benefited from his former nemesis' special powers. Once follow- ing a concert in Texas, Manson, who is prone to respitory weakness, couldn't get his breath afterwards and badly needed oxygen. The local parameds, however, refused to give it him, saying that they found his lampooning of organized religion deeply offensive. Suddenly, Nidal tall and impressive in his black leather costume, appeared backstage and brushed the shirkers aside.
      "Step aside, you ass fucking cock masters, I'll help him." Said Nidal with firey determination in his lynx like eyes.
       He walked over to where Manson was lying, gasping for breath and placed his mouth on his, breathing into the other rocker until he had recovered fully. During another concert, Manson had cut himself badly in the wrist and needed immediate first aid to stop the bleed- ing, but because of insurance reasons, no one was allowed to treat him. Nidal, however, was never one to be thwarted by the finer points of the law and so he took hold of Manson's spurting wrist and pinched the wound together so that the stream of blood stopped by itself. Much later on, Manson sprained his boney ankle during a show and had to stop it before it was even half over. But then Nidal had gone over to him and massaged his ankle until it was all healed, and by doing so, enabled him to get back on stage and carry on as he had before. So the show was saved for the firey voiced rocker. And Nidal's healings weren't just for Manson. When Pogo got a concussion from being accidently hit in the head with a mike stand, Nidal, who seemed to have risen above his former anti-semitic feelings, had healed him. When Twiggy had hurt his hand while breaking his guitar after a show, Nidal had healed him.
     In return for these kindnesses, Manson gave many gifts to Nidal. These included orchid plants, licorice candy(Which the Arab had always had a special weakness for.), and jewelry. Once, Manson even gave Nidal a ring that had once belonged to his grandfather. Sometimes, he hugged and kissed him.
     Finally, Manson's self-purging spiritual masterpiece, "Antichrist Superstar" hit the record stores, video shops, and the stage. Inspite of its blasphemous-sounding title, this remarkable piece of performance art, which featured Manson giving the full benefit of his remarkable voice while going from a larva like "Wormboy" to a gorgeous if "Scabbed" winged angel, was more about encouraging people to grow out of outmoded belief systems than it was about slamming any religion in particular. At the end, as he stood there as delicate and as ethereal as some kind of christlike butterfly wearing nothing but a loin cloth of the filmiest gauze and large gossimer wings, Manson was beautiful, truly beautiful. Indeed, Antichrist Superstar was to be aclaimed as his and Reznor's greatest triumph to date. Reznor had, as it were, gone back to doing his own rock shows besides and the billing was now listed as The Zodiacs, Marilyn Manson, and Nine Inch Nails. The short, but masterful rocker even came out with his album, "Broken Glass And Nails" at this time.
       As if in reprise, Nidal, who now no longer was prop for the Wilson Sisters, either sexually or theatrically, followed up "Antichrist Superstar" with not only his devilishly pro- voking, "Repossessed", but also with a stage production entitled, "The Prophet". In it, he played the starring role of a young man on a journey to discover himself and spiritual truth. In one scene, he stands before a frail, pale christlike figure who has Manson's delicate beauty and who is impaled on a pole. Wearing a light-blue Arab caftan and holding a Koran in one hand he pleads,
       "You and I both believe the same,
       We just call our beliefs by different names,"
       It was Nidal's clearest and most dramatic peace offering to his former rival, and its spirit was not lost on Manson himself who was moved to tears by Nidal's performance. Infact, he was so moved by it that from then on he would often go over to Nidal and without saying a word, just smile and lay a hand on his skinny brown shoulder as if to say, "It's all right, man, I understand and everything is alright between us now.
       The day would come too when Manson would have the chance to give Nidal a peace offering of his own. The occasion would be the Arab's 24 birthday party. Reznor and Miss Tina had planned it many months in advance and it was to be a truly gala affair. They had even rented The Rockin' Catfish, one of New Orleans' biggest music halls for the occasion and all of Nidal's friends and relatives were invited. Cleverly, they had kept it a secret from the frizzy-haired rocker himself until the last moment.
       When the day of Nidal's birthday, which fell on September 9, arrived, Miss Tina and Reznor, while exchanging sly looks and giggles, had whisked him away in Reznor's BMW on the pretext of taking him to do an unscheduled solo performance at the Rockin' Catfish. Imagine Nidal's surprise and delight when he opened the doors of the huge music hall and a multitude of people, including his band mates and all five members of Marilyn Manson rushed upon him with streamers, party whistles, confetti, and a rocked version of "Happy Birthday To You"! The whole hall was decorated in black and silver with a touch of green here and there. There were balloons and banting galore and on the large black silk-draped table that had been set aside especially for Nidal and which stood the closest to the stage, there was a licorice frosted round cake shaped like a cd. On it was a silver camel made of dregees and white frosting.
      Nidal beamed a grin of perfect white teeth and strutted as he was directed over to his table. In the manner of a presiding Sultan, he sat down and Reznor and Miss Tina, also smiling, took their places beside of him.
      "I Thank you all," He announced, "this is an honor I'm already starting to enjoy."
      Along with a pizza meal in Nidal's honor, which was followed by the cake which turned out to be licorice on the inside as well as on the outside, there were special onstage perfor- mances by Nine Inch Nails, Jack Off Jill, and Alice Cooper himself who gave Nidal a gift of an anaconda later. There were many other rock performers there too, but they had come to offer gifts and greetings to the birthday boy and not to sing for him. Ozzy Osbourne was there and brought Nidal a pearl handled knife.
       "Great for doing your onstage animal sacrifices." He told him jokingly.
       While the members of Smashing Pumpkins give him an expensive pair of sunglasses and The Red Hot Chili Peppers gave him their latest autographed album. His mom was there too, of course, and she brought him a kiss and a guitar autographed by his rock idol, Peter Kriss. But the most impressive gift of all came from his former nemesis to whom he had given the confectionary camel cake topping. This gift, Manson's own peace offering as it were, was in the form of a song that Manson had written with Nidal in mind. Indeed, he had gone to work writing it right after he had discovered that Nidal was his spurned Mansonite. Had written it with tears of remorse brimming in his large mismatched eyes as he kept muttering, "This one's for you, Virj". This tune was titled, The Foreigner, and Manson actually went on stage and belted it out after all of the other acts of the evening were through with their pieces. In this song, which Nidal at once recognized as being aimed at him, Manson gave out the long tortured lament of an ultimate outsider, someone who was continuely rebuffed for his foreigness no matter how hard he tried to fit in. Nidal was moved to tears by it and after the show told Manson,
       "Thanks, Marilyn, nobody could ever give anyone a sweeter gift." He had said in a voice choked with emotion.
       "I'm glad you like it, Virj. This proves once again that music is a universal language and that like the horn of Joshua, it can break down all walls between people." Said Manson as he gave Nidal a hug. Indeed, the last wall that had stood between them had come crashing down that night.
      The birthday festivities lasted way into the wee hours of the night with the birthday boy downing alcohollic drinks when he thought nobody was looking. The last vestiges of his proper Islamic past had, by that time, started to fall by the wayside. Infact, Nidal had managed to down so much beer, wine, and what not that he soon had to get rid of it. So he left his table and strode somewhat tipsily towards the men's room, with Manson headed in the same direction, already reaching for his dick. When both of them reached the urinals, they pissed together in the same one and, instead of making snide remarks about the sizes of each other's dicks as they had done in the past, they joked together about how the blue che- mical in a toilet always turned green whenever they pissed into it.
     "It turns azure." Remarked Nidal with a laugh as he aimed his piss into the urinal's porcelain interior.
     "Actually, it's pee green". Punned Manson as his piss shot out of him in the same direction.
      When they returned to their tables, it was already past midnight and the party was getting even wilder. So much so that nobody noticed it when Reznor, who enjoyed a very open ended relationship with Miss Tina, got under the table before Nidal and gave him head. As it was, Miss Tina was doing the same for Manson.
       Finally, at four o'clock in the morning, the party broke up and everybody went home as best they could. Nidal curled up beside of Reznor in the back seat of Reznor's BMW as a chauffeur drove them home. Already, he had the worst hangover of his life. Indeed, his head hurt so much that he couldn't sleep even though he was thoroughly exhausted,so as soon as he got home, he took some aspirin, climbed into his green silk lounging pajamas, and crawl- ed into bed where he slept until 1:00 pm of the same day. Although he had some recording to do that day, Reznor hadn't pressured him about it. He was dealing with a hangover of his own.
Chapter Twelve

        So hungover was Nidal that he probably would have slept still longer if I hadn't been for the sudden ringing of the phone on the bed table beside him.
       "Hi, whuzzup?" He asked, still feeling like he was asleep and feeling achey in the head again.
       "Hi, Virgil, we've got to talk. There's something important I've got to tell you, son." Came his mother's sweet voice on the other end.
       "Mom," Said Nidal, his annoyance showing in his voice, "If this is just another lecture about the dangers of booze and dope, I'm really not in the mood for it."
        "It's not about that, Virgil, it's about a dark secret in our family. One that I've kept hidden from you for years." Ms. Crawford hastened to add.
        "Meaning what?" Asked Nidal, lowering his voice ominously.
        Meaning, I think it's time that I tell you who your father really is." Said his pretty model mother, whose voice had a slightly urgent tone.
        Nidal sat bolt upright on hearing this and felt truly interested and involved inspite of his aching, groggy head.
       "When and where do I see you about this, mom?" He asked, his voice showing that he felt some apprehension as well as curiosity.
        I'm coming right over now and I'll talk with you in your room. I want this to be as private as possible." Said Ms. Crawford as she screwed up her courage for what she had to tell her boy.
        "Okay, mom, I'll be waiting for you." Nidal said. His head was still buzzing, but now it was more from anxious wonder than from pain.
        He and his mother told each other "See ya", and then he put the phone back on the reciever and began to get his shit together. First, he slipped his jade green bathrobe over his pajamas and went to the bathroom where he did just that. Then he showered and shaved.
On his way out of the bathroom, he was passed by the members of his band who were in various stages of dishevelment and who gave him their groggy "Hi, whuzzups". He also passed Manson who looked more like warmed over death than usual. Manson smiled a weak smile and waved at him with his fingers.
         Before returning to his room, Nidal got Miss Tina to bring him a cup of black coffee and some aspirins. Feeling her usual more motherly than managerial sympathy for him, she brought him an ice pack along with the pain killers and the strong black brew. He downed both of these as he sat cross-legged on his black velvet draped bed with his skinny back propped up against the pillows still in his robe and lounging pajamas. Miss Tina put the ice pack where he said his pain was the worst and then asked him if he needed anything else. He told her no, so she left him with the promise that she would be on hand if he needed anything else later.
      Still sitting cross-legged, Nidal lit a joint in his long cigarette holder and waited. Inhaling it's aromatic fumes began to make him feel better.
      Minutes later, his pretty blonde mother had arrived in her white camero. As she came to the door, she was met by Reznor who had just gotten up and who insisted on joining her when she talked with Nidal. Soon Miss Tina found the two of them talking and had demand- ed that she be present as well.
     "Although this is meant to be a very private talk, Mr. Reznor and Miss Tina, since you are his friends and managers, you should hear what I have to say. " Ms. Crawford said as she led the others to her son's bedroom.
    As soon as they entered, Nidal invited the three of them to sit on the edge of his enormous bed. He put out his joint.
    "Whew, you've been toking again, Virgil. It really isn't good for your lungs." Said his mother, who happened to be death on narcotics of all kinds. She wrinkled her pretty nose and waved her hand as if to drive oof the marijauna smoke from the room. Nidal laughed.
    "It cured my hangover." He said flippently.
    Miss Tina and Reznor looked at Ms. Crawford as if to say,"Hey, give the kid a break."
     Feeling out-numbered Ms. Crawford cleared her throat and changed the topic to the one that had driven her to see Nidal that afternoon.
     "Oh, never mind your hangover, Virgil. There's something I've been meaning to tell you for years, but I waited until now because I didn't think you could handle it." She said seriously.
     "Bullshit, mom! Just tell me who my old man really is." Demanded Nidal as he leaned closer to his mother with an anxious, slightly angery look on his tawny face.
      "Colonel Moammar al-Qadhafi!" Blurted out Ms. Crawford.
      On hearing this, Nidal's jet-black eyes, which weren't wearing contacts that day, grew wide and his pouty lips pursed together in shock. Then he burst out laughing.
      "Mom, you've given me a lot of bullshit throughout my life, but that has to be the biggest load of it ever!" He said as he rolled over with glee.
      Reznor and Miss Tina were laughing almost as hard.
      Ms. Crawford folded her slim pretty arms and glared at the three of them. Then she con- tinued.
      "It really is true, Virgil." She said slowly and evenly.
      "Sure, and Yasir Arafat comes down your street everyday on a unicycle." Countered Nidal as tears of mirth streamed down his narrow, dusky cheeks.
      "But I have proof, Virgil. Look at this and the rest of you, look too." Said Ms. Crawford as she opened her purse and brought out three revealing items - a ring, a photo, and a letter written in Arabic.
      Nidal and his managers stared at the these objects in amazement. The ring had the Libyan eagle crest on it, the photo showed a younger Ms. Crawford in the arms of a much younger Colonel Qadhafi, and the letter was a love note. Miss Tina, Reznor, and Nidal handed the three objects around and talked about them amongst themselves. Reznor couldn't read Arabic, but Miss Tina and Nidal could so they translated it's contents for him to their and his immense horror. I really was a letter to Ms. Crawford in which the Libyan tyrant demanded that the American actress-model foresake her country and religion and marry him. Nidal crumpled the letter in his fist and turned towards his mother with a narrow-eyed look of fury that reminded everyone jarringly of the man who had sired him.
        "Mom, how could you? How could you have had me with that shit eating cock master in Tripoli?" Asked Nidal, who was nearly shrieking.
        Miss Tina and Reznor just stared at her accusingly.
       "Son, son," she said in a soft quiet voice as she tried to soothe Nidal down by gently stroking his bushy black hair, "that was 1971, and I was young and reckless. I was in Algeria to do the movie, The Sandstone Tower" out in the middle of the desert. This was supposed to be an adventure epic set in North Africa during the early years of the Crusades. The tower headlining the title was an actual fortress built by the Sarecens back then and was, believe or not, still standing. I was playing the part of a nun who had come along with a troop of Knights Templers to fight as a crusader myself, but instead gets captured and imprisoned by the Arabs in this tower.
      Inspite of the intense heat and other problems, everything was going well, when suddenly, a ferocious sandstorm blew up and I became separated from the filming crew. With the blinding sand whipping all around me and smothering me, it was all that I could do to kneel down and put my head between my arms, hoping that death would be swept. Suddenly someone was standing beside me in long flowing robes. The stranger picked me up in his arms and rode with me to his tent. He placed me on some cushions in there and told me that I was safe now, but that I'd better not go outside until the storm was over. 'A sure death', he told me in a soft low voice. I thanked him and he gave me over to some women who helped me bathe and tidy up. For the next three days I stayed with my Bedu savior, not having the slightest idea who he really was. He was charming and handsome, so I spent a lot of time talking with him, mostly about the beauties of the Arab lands, and drinking tea. Infact, I was so charmed by him that I couldn't resist him when, at the end of my third day with him, he interrupted our tea party by grabbing me and kissing me. Then he made love to me in the most tender and passionate way that I had ever known.
       Afterwards, he begged me to marry him and become his second wife. He also told me who he was. And it all made sense. You see, he often disguises himself as an ordinary No- mad and travels about alone, so that he can mingle with the ordinary people and find out what they are thinking. Sometimes, he even goes about in the neighboring Arab countries like this.
       Knowing this, I understood how he could be who he said he was and I was horrified, but I kept calm and I didn't refuse him. I just told him I needed to finish my movie, then I would consider marriage with him. He was disappointed but assured me that he could wait the two or three weeks that were left of the shooting. He then had two of his personal guards return me to my filming crew. Before I left he had this picture taken of me with him, and later sent me this copy of it. He also slipped this ring on my finger, I guess it was supposed to be an engagement ring of sorts.
       Soon after I was back making my movie, he sent me that letter. I answered it with a kind, but direct refusal and have lived in fear ever since."
       "No shit, mom. But at least you didn't marry him. That would have been the end of ever- ything for me. I would have been forced to join the Libyan army and I would never have been allow to be a rockstar. Still, how could you have let yourself get screwed by such a monster, even though you didn't marry him, that asshole has left me with a legacy I've had to live down by living up if you get my drift." Said Nidal as he lit another joint and began smoking on it petulantly.
       Ms. Crawford pretended not to notice that, while the others stared dumbfoundly first at her and then at Nidal without saying a word.
       "Yes, I do, Virgil, and I know what I did was wrong. But I don't regret having you and even you have to admit that the old tyrant, for all the evil he's done, has done two good things, he saved my life and he gave me you. And you have given so many people pure pleasure with your music. Virgil I love you and I loved you and wanted you from the moment I felt you growing under my heart, from the moment I felt you moving in my tummy." She pleaded.
       "Oh, cut the crap and tell me how I got born in Russia." Insisted Nidal as he puffed nervously on another joint.
       "Well Virgil, soon after the filming of "The Sandstone Tower" was completed, I found myself pregnant with you, but I didn't want to stop working. Towards the end of my last trimester I was in Leningrad modeling maternity clothes when I went into labor and there you were." Explained Ms. Crawford with a faint smile of pride.
         "Oh, that explains a lot, Ms. Crawford, but where does our boy go from here." Injected Reznor with a glum look on his slender fair face.
         "Yeah, what is all this going to mean for me but lots more baggage?Asked Nidal with a frown. Miss Tina, always the strong silent one, seemed to be still sorting it all out in her head. Finally, she spoke.
         "Is Nidal an American Citizen?" She asked Ms. Crawford with her voice and pretty pale face clouded with seriousness.
         "Yes, he is, but two things are worrying me." Ms Crawford continued with her voice and face full of an emotion almost like terror. " First, that if Muammar Qadhafi finds out that he has a son in America, even an illegitimate one born to a white woman, he will go to any lengths to get him to return to Libya. That's because Arabs value their sons more highly than diamonds. And second, if you are secretly into terrorism as your stage shows suggest, it won't look good for you when people find out who your father really is. You aren't into terrorism for real, are you Virgil?"
          "Oh no, mom, I don't do shit like that. It's all just an act with me." Said Nidal, very much taken aback.
          "He takes on the role of a tyrant and a terrorist to show people what is wrong with international politics the way that Marilyn Manson takes on the role of a violent demon slut boy and a walking corpse to show people what is wrong with society." Said Miss Tina in his defense.
          "He doesn't advocate people grabbing a gun and hi-jacking a plane any more than Marilyn advocates grabbing a gun and shooting your classmates. It's all just theatrics and sometimes you have to play the part of evil in order to make people aware of it and then do something about it". Joined in Reznor, defending them both.
         "How about that sleazy deal between Columbia and Iran with him as the middle man? It sure sounds like a guns for terrorists deal to me, Virgil." Said Ms. Crawford as she raised a fair, well-manicured eyebrow.
         "Oh, that's just a drug deal, mom. You know, hashish from Iran and cocaine from Columbia, with a little pot on the side." Laughed Nidal as he poked another joint in his cigarette holder and let Reznor light it.
         "Yeah," Said Reznor withdrawing his cigarette lighter, "It's all dope and no guns or terrorists for our boy. And the CIA keep track of him all the time to make sure of it. They're forever snooping on him and asking him questions, but they always give him a clean bill of health as far as terrorism is concerned. And believe me, I should know because I'm the one who always goes with him whenever he's questioned. You'd think they'd know the score by now and leave him be."
         "And I can vouch for him not being involved in spying or terrorism, because he turned his back on all that when he and his group moved to Italy. You can believe me about this even if you don't believe anybody else, cause I've been with him ever since then." Added Miss Tina in a voice of real authority.
          "And as far as Mo Cadeaver is concerned, just let him try to take my Virgo away from me. I'll punch his ass down into the Mediterranean Sea if any of his thugs so much as lay a hand on our boy." Said Reznor as he balled up his fist for emphasis.
          Now Ms. Crawford was having mixed emotions. She was relieved that Nidal wasn't involved in international terrorism, but she still didn't like him being mixed up in the drug trade.
          "Virgil, I'm so glad that you're not in trouble as a terrorist, but your being a drug king worrys me to pieces. And how many of those pot cigarettes have you had already?" She admonished him tenderly.
          "I thought you said you weren't going to lecture me about that, mom." Said Nidal with a carefree laugh and a toss of his black curls.
          Ms. Crawford sighed and hugged her son.
          "Okay, Virgil, that's the last lecture I'm going to give you tonight." She promised him.
          All of them laughed at that. Then Reznor came forward with a suggestion.
          "Hey, it's four o'clock and none of us have eaten. So why don't you stay and have brunch with us, Miss Crawford." He invited.
          "Thank you," She replied, "all this talk has made me hungry enough to eat a horse."
          "Sorry, you won't find any horses on the menu," Said Reznor with a smile, "but I can guarantee you a meal that you will enjoy."
          A few minutes later, Ms. Crawford was in Reznor's dining room eating soup, sand- wiches, and freshly baked cherry pie. As she dined she went on and on about her modeling and acting experiences while now and then interjecting an embarrassing memory of Nidal's babyhood, as all mothers do. Manson and his group were there and sat across from Miss Tina and Nidal's bandmates, while Nidal himself and his mother were sitting beside of Reznor at the head of the table. When Ms. Crawford was thoroughly absorbed in telling of her latest modeling job for Sports Illustrated, Reznor turned to Nidal.
          "If you get your hash from Iran and your coke from Columbia, where the fuck do you get your ectasy anyway?" He asked in a whisper.
          "Hell knows." Whispered Nidal back with a mysterious grin.
          Reznor rolled his large blue eyes, and sighed knowing that he wouldn't get any more out of Nidal on the subject that day.
          At the end of the meal, the half-Arab shock rocker kissed his mother and left with the rest of The Zodiacs for the recording studio where they were to work on a remix of one of their hit tunes, "Blood And Submachine Guns."
           But as he sang and played his guitar in the glassed in recording booth, Nidal seemed distracted. Although he tried hard to put out his best, everyone could tell that he was distracted and they all knew by what. Manson in particular could tell how much what Nidal's mother had told him was still bothering him, so he extended his slender hand in sympathy, as he often did now.
          "Hey man, you look like you need a break from all that hard recording, so let's go roller blading together at the park. Whaddya, say." Manson suggested to Nidal as soon as he saw the frizzy haired rocker step out of the recording studio looking thoroughly frazzled.
          Cool, idea, Marilyn. Let's go." Said Nidal happily. So both of them put on their skates and they were off to the park.
          After they had skated and spun around the park's flower-lined sidewalks for awhile, Manson came to a bench and motioned for Nidal to sit down beside him. After the other boy had seated himself, Manson put his skinny arm on Nidal's equally skinny shoulders.
         "You know, Virj, I can understand your feelings about your old man." He told him.
         "How could you, Marilyn, he's a tyrant and a terrorist. Think of the baggage that gives me to carry around for the rest of my life." Said Nidal with a pout.
         "But I do understand. You see, Virj, I used to be ashamed of my old man too because he was a helicopter pilot in Viet Nam and he killed a lot of people over there by shooting them, and bombing them, not to mention by dropping chemicals on them like Agent Orange and napalm. So that makes my dad every bit as much of an asshole and a killer as your dad and if I can live with what my dad did, you can live with what yours did." Said Manson with a reassuring smile.
        Nidal thought for a moment, then he smiled.
        "Yeah, you're right. I can live with it. Now, want to go blading again?" Asked Nidal who suddenly looked like a free spirit again.
        "Sure, Virj!" Said Manson cheerfully as he stood up from the bench.
Then they were off and from the bird-like swiftness with which Nidal sped around it was obvious that Manson's words had taken a load off his soul.

Chapter Thirteen

         Manson had done Nidal a very great kindness that day and the day would come when            the Arab shock rocker would return the favor. That opportunity came on the early morning of January 5, 1996. Manson and his bandmates had gone out to celebrate the firey-voiced front man's birthday, since it fell on that day. The place that they had chosen for their gothic baccanalia was The Black Coven, one of New Orleans most notorious gothic haunts. Since he was the birthday boy that night, the owners of the establishment had given Manson the royal treatment. They had given him a table by the bar's real fireplace, a welcome treat on that cold, drizzily night, a cake with the Antichrist Superstar arrow-tipped lightning bolt symbol draw on with frosting, and free drinks for himself and all of his band mates. Really getting into the spirit of the event Manson drank more than his usual share of wine, which he always chose over beer.
        It followed then that it wasn't long before he and his musical friends began to get quite jolly and tipsy. It also followed that Manson soon had to piss really bad, so he headed for the men's room as quickly as he could in his inebriated state. On the way there, however, he came accross someone he knew faintly. This someone was a very pretty girl with long black hair and a black glittery costume that showed her large breasts and the ring in her shaven pussy to a good advantange. Her name was Mortina Lang and she grabbed Manson and kissed him full on the mouth. Then she went arm and arm with him into the bathroom where she displayed her pretty body to him even further while yanking on his dick until he got too turned on to piss and instead ended up fucking her right there on the bathroom floor. As soon as he was finished, he still had to piss, so she let him do it right into her mouth.
       Everything would have been all right if they had let their thrills all be just sexual ones, but as soon as Ms. Lang was through savoring Manson's salty, golden refreshment, she went over to her purse and pulled out a bag of some white powdery substence.
      "Here, lover, help yourself to some of this." She said with all of the deadly tempting sweetness of a latter-day Eve offering a forbidden apple as she laid out the drug track lines on the lid of the toilet stool.
      Manson, tipsy from both alcohol and the girl's charms, succumbed. He took the straw she offered him and inhaled and inhaled and inhaled. But, he soon realized the gravity of his mistake when his brain, lungs, sinuses, and eyes started to feel like they were on fire. God, what had she given him? It couldn't have been pure cocaine, he realized in a panic, it felt like cocaine diluted with lye. Probably it was something that the girl had unwittingly picked up from one of those crooked street dealers who try to extend their drugs by lacing them with other stuff.
      The rocker's heart was pounding dangerously fast. He knew he had to get out of there quick or die. So, barely aware of her presence, Manson shoved a very shocked Ms. Mortina aside and dashed out of the restroom. He was stumbling and careening as he ran, but unfor- tunately, his bandmates were too drunk to notice him and come to his rescue. So he ran out into the cold and rain where he grabbed hold of a lamp post and leaned into it, his heart beat- ing faster by the moment and his mind barely able to think. He knew he was going to die!
       But the end was not to come for Marilyn Manson, just yet. For appearing out of the blur of the falling drizzle and into Manson's own increasingly blurring vision, was Nidal's black cadillac. The tawny rocker was there because he had been invited to Manson's birthday party in The Black Coven, but he had arrived late because of a spot on the Late Show where he had appeared with Tina Turner, Snoop Doggy Dog, and James Brown. It was already two 'o clock.
        Nidal was frightened and startled by Manson's appearance which was truly deathlike without the benefit of make-up or other theatrical devices. His pupils were completely dilated, his face and the bare flesh of his arms and exposed chest was absolutely blue, and he was gasping like he was gasping his last as he leaned over and clutched the lamp post with a grip that could barely hold on. Nidal had his driver stop the vehicle, then he opened the door to the back seat where he was sitting, and pulled Manson in. Manson, of course, didn't put up the least resistance.
       As soon as he was inside the warmth of Nidal's car, the Arab opened his long sable fur coat and gathered Manson to the warmth of his own body. He held him close like that while wrapping his coat around him, since Manson was shivering badly. To calm him down even further, Nidal spoke soothing words to him and gently stroked his long black disheveled hair.
      "Ssssssh! You'll be fine now, Mari. You'll be all right." He whispered reassuringly.
       In Nidal's arms, Manson soon began to quiet down. But then he felt suddenly nauseus and had to barf. So Nidal let him, while helping him lean his head out the car window to do it. Afterwards, Nidal wiped his mouth with his own black lace handkerchief. Then he placed his slender brown hands gently on Manson's chest, over his still heavily beating heart.
       "Mari, your heart is slowing, slowing, slowing, and you'll be fine." Said Nidal softly in his ear.
        Indeed, it really was. Nidal's healing touch had come to the rescue again.
        Within moments Manson's heart had quieted down so much that the rest of him soon did too, and he fell into a deep peaceful sleep held on Nidal's lap with his own arms around the Arab.

Chapter Fourteen
       The next morning.... Manson woke up to find himself in Nidal's bed with Nidal sleeping soundly beside him. At first, he was startled, then he remembered the events of the night be-    fore and smiled with realization. That frizzy-haired fucker had actually saved his life!
       Manson, who found himself to be wearing a pair of the Arab's nearly sheer green silk pa- jamas folded his skinny arms across his flat belly and lazily pondered the situation. He also began to feel his attitude and emotions doing a major turn-over. He thought of how Nidal had been a truly worthy opponent and he had to confess to himself that he really did admire him for it. Then he had become his closest friend, then finally his healer. He pondered too on the fact that love and hate are intimately related emotions and that while it is far easier to learn to hate someone you've loved than someone whom you've felt nothing for, the reverse can also be true. If you hate someone intensely and deeply enough, that hate can turn to love. Manson knew at that moment with a warm glow building inside him, that for a long time his hate for his one-time nemesis had been turning to love. It had started from the time that they had first shared drugs, the time that Nidal, however much reluctantly, had healed his torn lip, the time that he confessed that he shared his liking of KISS music. And now his former rival had saved his life!
        Manson turned over and looked down on Nidal. As he did this, he felt his heart melt with tenderness and passion, for Nidal was beautiful, and for once, vulnerable looking. His curly black hair, which was very unkempt that morning, fell onto his pillow in all of it's glo-   ssy richness. His narrow face with it's fine tawny features was lovely in its make-upless and flawless condition. His eyes were hid beneath long black lashes. An overnight growth of black whiskers peppered his jaw, cheeks, and upper lip and this somehow excited Manson i-   mmeasurably. Manson ached to touch him, to kiss, and to hold him. But he didn't want to wake him.
         Just then, Nidal stirred with a well contented moan and opened his almond-shaped, jet black eyes. Manson reclined over him with his arms on either side of him.
         "You saved my life, you fruitcake." Said Manson as he looked down on him with a warm smile.
         "I am a healer, Marilyn. I can't bear to see anyone suffer and die before my eyes, espec- ially not you." Said Nidal, whose dark eyes were still full of sleep.
         "Then you must have some good in you, Virj."
         "Everyone has some good in them somewheres."
         "I don't."
         "Yes, you do, Marilyn, yes you do."
         "It's sweet of you to say that and...."
         "And what, Marilyn."
         "I love you."
         "And I love you, my songbird."
         "Come to daddy."
         With that and although neither of them were gay, Manson took Nidal in his arms and kissed him with surprising tenderness and passion. Then he gave him head, but only after he and Nidal had explored and pleasured every inch of each other's bodies. And also Nidal gave head to Manson.
         When they were done, they just snuggled down in each other's arms.
          "Since we feel about each other the way we do, why don't we put the past behind us completely and be boyfriends to each other?" Asked Nidal with a happy sigh.
          "I would like that very much, but won't the Wilson Sisters be jealous?" Manson won-   dered with a sly smile.
          "Oh, they've been out of my life for over a year now. But what about you and Pamela Anderson?" Nidal asked as he gave Manson's tight little ass a playful slap.
          "I broke up with her a long time ago. Now I only have feelings for you, Virj, especially after you saved my life like that." Said Manson as he gave one of Nidal's brown nipples a playful nip.
          "Then you will be my boyfriend, Mari?" Asked Nidal hopefully as he kissed Manson's cheeks, mouth, and throat.
           "Yes, Virj, and no human, animal, machine, power, principality, or force of nature can ever some between us again." Promised Manson as he passionately returned each one of Ni- dal's kisses.
THE END

Stories Page Four

When Angels Clash!

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