We'll Never Get Married in a Church - Euronymous x OC

3. The Toxic Waltz

16th August, 1988

The past couple weeks were spent either studying in the flat, out on the town with Even or at the Mayhem house. All three things made Marlene ten times more happy than she ever was. There was a lack of the childlike fun that her and her old friends had in Sweden - but this was more exciting. It was a mix of being a free adult as well as making her own way in the world. No more childhood bestfriends or family friends. These friends were Marlene's and Marlene's alone.

Not all of them were hers. The members of Mayhem were really just Pelle's friends but it was like he graciously lent them to her. Whenever she'd come over, Pelle would disappear into the forest for sometimes a couple hours, leaving Marlene to fend for herself with the boys. But they liked her. Especially Oystein.

Word on the street (by that, an invitation from Oystein) was that there would be a party at the Mayhem house. A thrasher. Only the cheapest booze with the highest alcohol percentage, the loudest music, and the cheapest cigarettes. Marlene enjoyed a good party and she was happy she wouldn't have to sneak out, or hide it from anyone.

Even would be accompanying the Ohlin sister. Pelle said he wanted to meet him, so it was a plan. Even sounded pretty interested in it, if not a little hesitant. Marlene told him he really didn't have to if he didn't want to, but Even was adamant. He said he'd play DD so Marlene could booze it up all she pleased and not have to worry about sleeping on the dirty forest ground. Or worse; Pelle's room. She'd smelt it the other day. It smelt absolutely disgusting.

Before the party, Marlene's day was slow and mundane. She took a shower, ate an egg (fried) then just watched Monty Python's Flying Circus for about 6 hours straight. That was her favourite part of being an adult; no one could tell you to get up off your lazy ass. If all you wanted to do during the day was watch television, by fuck, you could do just that.

Around 5, Marlene's phone began to ring. Not thinking too much, she answered, "Hello?"

"Marlene!" Her dad's voice rang out on the other end. Marlene's eyes went wide. Suddenly, she felt guilty for doing absolutely nothing since she'd got there. No job, no real things to tell him. All she'd done was throw money to the wind - not very productive. "Pelle gave us your number. How's Norway?"

"It's alright, Papa. Nothing spectacular," Marlene chortled. Dad let out a hearty laugh. "I was actually just about to go to Pelle's. I was going to make the boys dinner."

Which was true. Marlene didn't want them all drinking on an empty stomach and she knew Pelle basically avoided food at all costs, lest she was around. Pelle was a prick like that. He thought he was a corpse, and shoving food into a corpse's mouth is redundant. But he wasn't a corpse. He was Marlene's twin. Dad just ooh'd,

"What're you going to make, Marls?"

"Was thinking pasta. Who doesn't love some spaghetti?" Marlene asked emptily. She leaned over the counter the phone sat on top of, the marble cold against her skin.

"Pelle hates pasta."

"That's really too bad for him because I'll shove it down his throat."

"Marlene Ingrid Ohlin!"

"Sorry, Papa," Marlene laughed. She heard her dad's breathy chuckle on the other end.

As the two began discussing other things, Marlene settled to sit on the counter and play with her phone cord. Dad blathered on about work, asking her about a million questions a minute, and scolded her for practically every other thing that left her lips. It was very much the usual routine with old Papa Ohlin. So usual that it made Marlene relax a minute.