I'm Sorry- A Slipknot Story

Chapter 46

"How did it do that? I never did anything to it," he says, looking at me.

"Your welcome," I simply say, making him confused.

"What do you mean by that," he asks. I shrug and walk over to the stage, hopping up and looking at the sets. They're all in order, so I turn and look at the guys.

"So, we have an interview after this show and they want you to come," Corey says, leaning on the stage.

"Cool. I'm going to need my mask back though," I say, hopping down next to him.

"Why? Seems like you would fit Joey's pretty well," he says.

"Bitch please," I say, putting it up to my face. It covered my forehead and hairline, making all of them laugh. I put it down and Joey gives back my mask, putting on his own.

"Great, now I can actually smell death in my mask," he says, making me laugh.

"Well, yeah. I wash my mask and don't wear it as much as you guys," I say. 

"Wait, it doesn't smell like death in your mask," Sid asks. I nod and he takes my mask, trying to put it on with his on.

"Sid, take your mask off," I say. He takes his mask off and I hold it as he puts on mine, the heart turning black.

"You're right," Sid says, taking a deep breath.

"It actually smells like flowers," he says, taking it off and putting his back on.

"Well, even though I have three giant openings in my mask, I can still smell death," he says, Shawn holding up a jar with a dead bird in it.

"Wait, what is that," I ask, taking it and looking at the bird.

"That's our huff," he says. He takes it back and opens it, taking a huff of it and passing it to Corey. He huffs it and it passes around the guys, getting back to me.

"Take a whiff," Sid says, trying hard not to throw up. I shrug and put my masked nose into it, taking a deep breath. I smell memories of when I would go hunting with my older brothers and got the best on my first shot.

"Smells like memories," I say, closing it and looking to the guys. They're all trying their best not to throw up on me since I'm in the middle of the circle.

"You guys okay," I ask, making Corey grin.

"Are we ever okay," he asks.

"No, but are you guys going to throw up," I ask, all of them nodding as the intro starts. They wait a few seconds and practically run out there, throwing up on stage.

-after show-

They end and Sid runs to me, jumping on my feet and hugging me. Thank god he leaned down when he threw up, otherwise I would've smacked him upside the head. The others, though, did not do that. There's sick down the front of their coveralls and they look like they're actually sick from how they're walking.

"You should've seen it," Sid says, walking with me to the interview.

"Shawn threw up on a bunch of kids in the crowd and they started eating it! Then Corey threw up on the mic and he had to sing with it covered in sick," Sid says, explaining the show. He's hopping as he's walking beside me and his face's lit up like the northern lights in the Antarctic.

"And I threw up on my set and had to use it right after," he says, noticing his hands are covered in his sick.

"And you hugged me," I ask, gesturing to his hands. 

He holds them up and nods, wiping them on his pant legs. He's finally wearing his own coveralls, and boy do they smell like their masks. We make it to the interviewer and he looks at me, confused on why I don't have my coveralls on. I had my mask on, which is good.

"Is this 9," he asks, gesturing to me and looking at Corey. There's Jim, Chris, Sid, Corey and Joey with me to do the interview, so I feel a little more safe.

"Yes, she is 9," Corey says, my Craig instincts kicking in and not saying anything.

"Nice to meet you 9," he says, holding out his other hand. 

I nod once and shake his hand, standing next to Sid and Corey and in front of Jim. Since I'm wearing two inch or so platforms with three inch heels, I equaled to about 6 foot 1 or 2. He starts the interview and I listen into the questions, staying quiet. After about 15 or so minutes I hear a question that makes me smile.

"So we have 9 here with you guys. What do you say to the people saying she's not a part of the band," the interviewer asks, holding the mic to the guys. Corey takes it and goes close to the camera.

"You listening? Good. I don't want to hear any more of this from you. She may not be on stage with us but she's a part of this band. She has to put up with all of us every day, every tour we've done so far. If you say she's not a part of the band, then you're not a maggot. You're a hater that deserves to die in a fire," he says. 

He steps back to his original position and hands back the mic, all of them flipping the camera off with both hands. Even me. The interviewer looks shocked, but surprised that they have so much love for me.

"Okay, moving on. These are to 9," he says, turning to me.

"A lot of people have been demanding me to ask you this. What's your real name," he asks.

"Why do you want to know," I ask.

"We know everyone else's names in the band, and you're the only one that goes by their number. It's only fair to give us your name," he says.

"I'm not going to release my name because people who've gotten signed things from me already know it," I say.

"No one can read those," he says.

"Listen to me," I say, taking the mic.

"If I don't want my name out to the maggots, they'll respect it and call me 9 until I release my name," I say, handing back the mic. He opens his mouth but I put up my hand, making the 'silent' gesture.

"What's the next question," I ask.