From Rock to Shock

From Rock to Shock
by Alberta Williams

My name is Izzy Cochrane and I am a Rock Legend. At six two, two hundred pounds of muscle and tattoos I am an Icon to anyone who knows anything about the music business. I have a ‘rep’ for being the hard drinking party animal with a penchant for women, alcohol and the odd banned ‘substance’. If I counted the days partying has erased from my memory since puberty I’d be looking at a five years minimum. Come on now, don’t tell me you’ve never woken up in a strange place with a woman (or women) you don’t recognise, a taste like someone took a crap in your mouth and Black Sabbath jamming in your head. I’ve awoken in bars, hotel rooms, cars, dumpsters and the occasional police cell but today beats the lot.

From what I can remember of yesterday I went out looking like my usual self in my favourite black shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, a leather waistcoat and my signature bandana (black with white skulls). The limo driver dropped me, my band mates Slim and Jesse and my latest conquest, a broad called Savannah I picked up a couple of days ago and haven’t quite tired of yet, at the latest nightspot to open in downtown LA. I bypassed the queue of losers outside and strode in. Immediately they were all over me, the usual crowd of hangers-on and wannabes that lurk in these places hoping to get a glimpse of a megastar like myself and ride my coattails for the evening. Anyhow, the champagne was flowing freely, the Cuban cigars were handed out and the ladies started to gather like lawyers at an automobile accident. As the night wore on the table filled with empty bottles, the ladies shed some clothing in an attempt to compete with the pole dancers gyrating on stage and the envious glances I was getting from the ordinary Joes at the other tables grew in intensity. If looks could kill Man I would have been six foot under a long time ago but what the Hell? Friends are something a guy like me learned to live without a long time ago. Drunk and bored of the same old routine, I asked around to see if anyone had a ‘little something’ to lift my mood. I’ve tried it all over the years, coke, grass, heroin, E I mean you can’t make it in this business without a little help you know. Even a guy like me with money, looks and everything a dude could possibly want needs the occasional escape from reality.

A kid I’ve purchased from in the past sidled up and said he’d got some new gear I should try. We mooched over to the men’s room for some privacy. When we were safely inside with someone watching the door (those paparazzi bastards will snap you taking a piss if they think it’ll sell), the kid opened the package and emptied this weird pink powder onto the counter. I’d never seen stuff like this before. It looked almost like it was pulsating and glowing but I put this down to me being hammered. I rolled up a hundred dollar bill and snorted. Immediately I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. The pain was intense. I felt like my head was about to explode. My tongue swelled, my throat constricted and. I pissed myself. The last thing I remember was falling into a puddle of my own vomit.

Now I wake up alone in a strange, yet somehow familiar bed. Feeling disorientated I lift the sheets and see this pathetic, pale, weedy little body where my famous torso should be. What the fuck? Stumbling to the mirror I catch sight of a bucktoothed little nerd with a geeky haircut staring back at me. OK, where’s Ashton? Where’s the camera?. Hey lady who the hell……? MOM? Are you shitting me? Hell no! Dreaming? I wasn’t fucking dreaming you Bitch! I’m Izzy Cochrane. Colin? Who the Fuck is Colin?

Number of Words: 666