Another bleak day in the Black Hole of Eternity. Kurt Cobain is sitting on the little stage, strumming his guitar, trying to entertain the few lost souls inhabiting the Milk Bar with an unplugged rendition of 'Polly'. However, every time he opens his mouth to sing, 'Afternoon Delight' warbles from his lips. Soon, completely frustrated, he will smash his guitar, yet again, and stalk off the stage into the flames. Karen Carpenter and Jim Croce music blare from the Muzak speakers, which are hooked up to the CD Jukebox of the Damned. Elvis, meanwhile, has finally found his niche here as the official 'Postman', and he just loves mail call, singing as he delivers all those goodies that manage to actually find their way from the 'Dead Letter Office' at the US Postal Service. Nobody has the heart to tell him, though, that he only got this gig 'cause he's the only one who's big enough to hulk the mailbag around. And holding up the corner of the bar, permanent fixtures just like back on Earth, are Sid and Nancy, who, as you may have guessed, are giving new meaning to the phrase 'trying to catch the eternal buzz'. Of course, all the good stuff is long gone (well, whaddaya expect? Every drug victim on the planet is down here, ya know. Try and hide your stash from an apparition. It's impossible...), and they're trying vainly to mainline some yogurt cultures...

Sid: No, no, no, no, you aren't DOING it right....if you cook it too long, these big blobs of gunk are gonna clog up the needle...

Nancy: (whining) But, SI-I-I-I-I-I-I-D, you PROMMMMISED....

Elvis: Hey, Sid, I got a delivery for ya (throws him a package), and you know, you can't send it back, huh-huh-huh, snort-snort....

Sid: I know, I KNOW (sneeringly singing) 'Return to sender, address unknown....' Bloody fat wanker, thinks he's funny.... oh, look, Nancy...it's a new CD...(reading the cover art) 'John Lydon, Psycho's Path'. Hey, look, it's Johnny. He's at it again...

Nancy: Psycho's Path, huh? Well, that figures. What, now he's singing his diary??

Sid: Oh, come off it, Nancy, give the guy a break...

Nancy: Why?? What did he ever do for you?? He's the one who kept going around behind your back, telling everyone you couldn't play, and you couldn't sing, and that he just let you in the Sex Pistols 'cause he felt sorry for you...

Sid: Well, I couldn't play, and I couldn't sing, could I?? And he never said he felt sorry for me. He wouldn't have felt that way. Why would he need to?? I did a good job of that all by myself then, didn't I?? Oh, I know, I was just there for the image and the attitude...

Nancy: Yeah, and you were the best, baby...

Sid: Of course I was. I'm dead, now, aren't I?? (reading the titles) Lessee...'Dog'....'Take Me'...'Sun'...oh, bet that one's a bloody riot, he always hated the sun...looks like he still does, look at 'im (points to the accompanying press release enclosed with the CD, complete with Johnny's ghastly pasty visage sneering back, which is signed 'a gift to you from me, thank you SO much for leaving him behind, see you someday, love, Richard Branson') he looks like he'll fit right in when he gets here...Nancy, who are the Chemical Brothers??

Nancy: I dunno, but I think we should meet them, don't you?? Maybe they have some good drugs...

Sid: Oh, you're so completely useless, I thought you were gonna keep up with all that stuff up there...well, NOW what are we gonna do?? I want to hear this...

Nancy: Sid, you can't be serious...you know what happens when you listen to something down here, don't you?? Kurt will wanna try and LEARN it. And he can't do it. It's impossible in this place. He'll start singing Brenda Lee songs again...

Sid: Oh, hell, I know...but look, there's a song called 'Psycho Path'. And 'Grave Ride'!! I'll bet that one's about me...and Moby, well, I wonder who he is?? Oh, why am I asking you??

Nancy: Oh, suuuuurrre, like Johnny's gonna write a SONG about you...well, then again, I wouldn't put it past that wanker to try and cash in some more...

Sid: Yeah, that 'Sex Pistols Reunion Tour'-what a bunch of bollocks that was, eh? Like they could be the Sex Pistols without ME....

Sid walks over to the CD Jukebox of the Damned and slams it with his fist. A voice thunders from overhead...

"SID....SID....REMEMBER, YOU MUST CHOOSE WISELY...ONCE YOU PUT A DISC IN, YOU CANNOT TAKE IT BACK. YOU WILL LISTEN TO IT FOR ALL ETERNITY." (thunder, lightning, and a hellish storm ensue)

A few minutes later...

Nancy: (pulling herself back up on the bar) Oh, thank you so much, darling. NOW WE'VE LOST THE WORKS. Way to go, Sid....

Sid: Oh, shut up, will you?? You can't fly anywhere with that slop anyway... (picks himself up off the floor and goes back to the CD Jukebox). Look, you piece of mechanical SHIT! Open up, and lemme put this thing in. I WANNA HEAR JOHNNY.....

"SID...SID...YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED....." a drawer pops open. Sid puts the disc in. The drawer shuts. He punches a few buttons and waits...and waits....and waits...Suddenly, a giant explosion rocks the Milk Bar. The CD Jukebox has blown sky high. Pieces of wires, speakers, and shards of shattered CDs rain down everywhere.

"SID...SID...WHAT ARE YOU, NUTS? YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS. I SHALL BEQUEATH UNTO YOU SILENCE BEFORE I WILL PLAY THIS CRAP...."

Nancy: Sid, Sid, you did it. YOU DID IT!! No more bloody 'On Top of The WORLD, looking DOWN on CREATION', gag-choke-gasp-cough-oh, honey, thank you THANK YOU, I love you so much.....(she smothers Sid with kisses)....

Sid: But, Nancy, now we won't get to hear Johnny...

Nancy: S-I-I-I-I-DDD, don't you get it?? He didn't like it. It must REALLY be awful, if the Devil himself won't even let it in the jukebox in THIS joint....but you got rid of that...that....that THING-I knew I was in Hell the minute I got here, what with all the Stevie Nicks music that comes screeching out of that jukebox morning, noon, and night...you'd think she was already DEAD or something, the way he idolizes her....aww, shit. Look at that....

The CD Jukebox of the Damned has reappeared in the mist in the corner of the Milk Bar.

Sid: (sighs) Awww, right then, guess you've got it figured out, as usual. I'm really disappointed, though. I wanted to hear what Johnny has to say these days...

"SID....SID....YOU AREN'T VERY BRIGHT, ARE YOU? PAY ATTENTION, FOR I WILL ONLY SAY THIS ONCE... THERE'S 'GOOD' BAD, AND 'BAD' BAD. YOUR VERSION OF 'MY WAY' WAS 'GOOD' BAD. 'PSYCHO'S PATH' IS SO BAD, IT'S BEYOND EVEN 'BAD' BAD. JOHNNY HAS NOTHING LEFT TO SAY. HE'S REALLY TRYING MY PATIENCE THESE DAYS, BUT HE STILL HAS SOMETHING LEFT TO DO UP THERE, THOUGH I'M LOATHE TO IMAGINE WHAT THAT COULD BE..."

Sid: Maybe he could resurrect PiL or something, huh? I always liked that stuff...Oh, come on now, 'Psycho's Path' isn't all that bad, is it??

"SID...DO YOU DARE TO QUESTION ME??"

Sid: (cowering) I'm-I'm sorry, really...I didn't mean to imply...

"OH, DO SHUT UP...WELL, THAT'S IT, THEN. YOU KNOW YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO SECOND GUESS ME. NOW START GROVELLING. ON YOUR KNEES, INFIDEL, OR I'LL SEE TO IT THAT KURT STARTS PLAYING 'YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE'. OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN......BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

Sid and Nancy, shreiking in unison, 'NOOOOOOOOOOOO............'

....fade to black.

John Lennon: Acoustic

John Mars: John Mars [Cassette]

[Issue Three // November-December 1997]