Karma's Happenstance

Chicks Dig Us

Chicks Dig Us

Izzy POV 

I can’t believe this. I actually can’t believe how far I’ve dropped. Maybe I should’ve listened to my mom, get educated, get a real job. Other people are quite happy too, right? But I needed to do whatever I wanted and go wherever I wanted to. Great plan to become a fucking rockstar, Isbell. Just great. This worked out very well for you. Good fucking Idea.

Instead of living a nice and cozy life with a job I’d be actually paid for, I find myself standing on the Vegas strip with an acoustic in my hands, playing Neill Young songs. Slash stands next to me, shredding and plucking on his guitar like he could somehow improve that shit. His top hat is resting on the concrete in front of us to remind people to drop some money. I feel like a god damn loser. Thank god, nobody knows us here. This is embarrassing. 

"This is ridiculous. We’re just collecting coins here." I mutter. "This isn’t going anywhere. At least let us play some of our own songs. That’s far more fun."

Slash grins at me like a ten year old. He’s fucking hammered, like usual. Is he actually enjoying this? I think he really is. Fuck...how?

"Well man, if you wouldn't have fucked us with all that bad Karma and shit people might give us more cash." He says innocently as he plays a few cords of a few different tunes trying to find one he likes I guess.

Not this shit again. "Don't start with me," I warn.

"It's fucking true, every since you tried to rob that dealer..." He says and plucks a few notes then fiddles with his strings.

"Since I fucking tried?! It was your fucking idea!" I snap at him.

"But it was your Karma. Yakinamudo told me so." He calmly says without ever looking up from his guitar.

I look at him like he's lost his fucking mind. "Who?" Who the fuck is he talking about? I think he has officially flipped his fucking lid.

"The guy who saved your fucking life in Chinatown," He motions at my stab wound.

"What about him? What the fuck are you even talking about?" I ask.

"I went back to see him while you were gone because I wanted to hear more about all this shit." he informs me. "He explained it all."

"You went back to that Quack?" I chuckled in disbelief. God he was really out there. I couldn't believe he went back to that weird old guy.

"He's not some Quack! He's a fucking soothesayer!" Slash snaps at me. Shit's getting tense because we are both needing a fix.

"Soothesayer?! What the fuck?!" I ask feeling mildly irritated. Why did this shit keep coming up?

"It's like a fortune teller," he tells me, "One they say is never wrong."

I snort, "Well that makes me feel so much fucking better Slash. Here all this time I thought he was an old flunkie doctor or something. Fortune teller...yeah, feel much better, thanks." Yeah I feel tons better knowing I let some fortune teller stitch me up. This is just fucking perfect. Karma you say?

Slash just shrugs and continues to play. He’s plucking licks and riffs as if he’s standing right on stage. I can’t help rolling my eyes. He starts to play some doomed sounding music. I suppose this was to reflect either my Karma or our situation.God, this guy is a freaking monster with this. Just shove a guitar in his hands and he’s happy for hours. I only can shake my head in disbelieve. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love playing guitar and I love to sing. But he’s different though. You’d never catch him without his guitar. I even think he takes it with him when he takes a shit. Seriously. That fucker is nuts. I bet he’s going to be a fucking guitar god someday. I do notice that since we started playing one of our own songs that more people are tossing coins in his hat.

"This is great." Slash slurs and points out to his hat. "I bet we already have ten bucks in there."

"Yeah, fucker. We’ve been playing for fucking hours, too." I say and rub my hands because I’m already starting to shake. I need a fucking fix. Soon. 

Right when I’m about to pack it all in because playing on the street sucks, a couple of chicks stop in front of us. Not just any ordinary chicks, you know? I mean like really hot ones. The kind of stripper chicks that usually hang with us in LA. Slash gives me a look. Yeah fucker, I know these kind of chicks know where to get dope. But this still doesn’t solve our lack of cash. 

The chicks are still watching us when I put my guitar down. Yeah, chicks are into us. This happens like a bazillion times, everywhere we play. I have no fucking clue why but apparently chicks are hot for guitarists. It’s not that we have model looks or something and I’m pretty sure none of us have even showered in days. Still chicks hit on us like we’re some fucking jackpot or something. I don't get it, but I'm not going to complain about it today.

A blonde with killer legs, wrapped in fishnets, eyes me playfully and strolls closer to me. Slash is already eye fucking a redhead with enormous boobs. I can’t help thinking about church girl. Shit, I can’t get her out of my mind. I pray she's ok at the hotel by herself. I worried about that motherfucker Sixx. I know he's up and lurking around somewhere. That fucking motherfucker bastard.

"Hey baby." The blonde says with that self-confident voice all strippers have and runs a finger down my chest. "You guys wanna have some fun? Vegas style?" 

I watch her finger slowly going down my chest. It’s so fucking obvious they wanna get fucked, I can only nod. What can I say? I’m so fucking horny since yesterday, I’m about to explode. Not that I’m not into it. I am. Really. I love stripper chicks. They are fun and they don’t bitch around when you ask them to leave. But I can’t help feeling bored. This is just too easy. They are just too easy.

But fuck I'm a man with needs. Needs that required more than my fucking right hand. I needed a woman's touch. And right now, just about any woman's touch should do. And maybe, just maybe these chicks will know where we can score.

Then to my surprise the stripper before me holds her fingernail to my nose. "You like to party?" She asks with what I assume is a nail full of coke. I gladly snort it. Yep, coke. Well, it's better than fucking nothing, right?

"You guys have a place around here?" The big breasted red head asks Slash.

He nods with a huge smile. "A room at the MGM."

"Well lets go then," the other says to me and takes my hand.

As we walk I try not to let my mind obsess over church girl. However every step we take is bringing us closer to her. Focus Isbell. Pay attention to this chick rubbing her hand down your ass as she sticks a tongue in your ear. Yeah, it feels good. But I still can't help but think about my beauty back at the hotel. Fuck I really didn't want to take these chicks back to the hotel. An alley would have worked just fine by me. Maybe a bathroom stall even.

Alas, Slash fucked that up. Hummm. I just wonder if that Asian fucker told him how he gives me bad fucking Karma? How is that shit on me when Slash had the idea in the first place? Where's his bad goddamn Karma? Fuck. Why am I stressing this bullshit? Goddamnit Isbell, fucking focus