The Rockin' Rodents

St. Jerry Lee Mouse

A lifetime of movies and TV told Ger that his life should have a soundtrack. That plus his affinity for music (which had yet to turn into a talent for making good music) meant he was susceptible to music's pull on his emotions. So he asked himself the questions from the song. Was someone watching him? Was this real or some kind of hell?

The music chilled him. It amazed him how he could hear it so clearly in his head. His suspicion that his life had a soundtrack was confirmed. It also scared him a little. He had never taken drugs before and was unaware that he still hadn't taken any drugs. Yet in his mental state, he felt as though he had discovered the beauty of music for the first time. At the same time, he felt as though he had stepped into a story, as though the music itself held sway over him, and whatever song that came on next would twist his destiny in some fashion.

He didn't know if this was a natural reaction and suddenly regretted his decision to run off from Johnny and Ari. At the very least they could have taken care of him.

Ger felt the beginnings of a panic attack. "Where are my headphones? I need my headphones," he thought.

Ger believed the speed that Ari had given him had muddled the thoughts in his head and he couldn't focus. Suddenly the urgent need for his headphones moved up his trachea, as an urge to vomit washed over him. He fought for control, rested a hand on a cold brick wall for support, he focused on the music in his head.

Ger had a playlist for everything, for walking the dog, doing his homework, escaping his problems. He just didn't have one for being high. He had never taken drugs before. Ariana hadn't even given him the choice. She hadn't asked him if he wanted to get high.

Suddenly, he felt his throat and digestive track burn with liquid flame as he threw up. The building panic attack changed gears and intensified.

"Where are my headphones?"

Ger sometimes got panic attacks and used music to calm himself down. He had been unknowingly self-medicating with music all his life. That's why he had never felt the need to join in the drinking or drug-taking Ariana and Johnny did. That of course and his dad. Ariana knew about his dad! He'd told her about his drinking.

Why had Ariana done that? Why had she spiked his drink?

Ger couldn't understand and it wasn't because of the drugs.

He could feel a panic attack rising again. It was like a far-off ping of anxiety, like a tiny sound whose echo seems to grow in stature, hurtling inexorably closer and closer as it gathers momentum.
"Where are my headphones?"

He needed his headphones to calm himself down. Luckily the Iron Maiden song in his head had come to the guitar solo. The glorious melodies from both guitarists intertwining, and for a moment he felt a warm smugness at the fact that he hadn't needed his headphones to calm himself down. All he needed was a harmonizing duel guitar solo, although technically it wasn't a solo if there were two guitarists, which he then realized were coming out of his headphones which had been on his ears all along.

Ger forced himself to think about the speed that Ari had spiked his drink within the bar. He knew he should worry about that, and the fact that he was lost. His phone buzzed in his pocket and Ger ignored it. It would be Ariana and Johnny, and he didn't want to talk to them. For some reason, he couldn't focus. He didn't know why.

"Oh yeah," he thought "the speed."

Ari was crazy.

This was all Ari's fault. Johnny had convinced him to let her into the band. Well, to be fair, she was the only bassist in town.
We're talking about a village where the main street was also the principal road for miles around and Ballycraicsdown had just kind of grew up along it. It was a village that felt like it hadn't earned its name. It was like a small opening in the countryside, a blemish.