March 28, 2001
Where The Hell Is The DVD? Ch.3
A number of you losers have been claiming that new information regarding the Fragility DVD was posted on nin.com a few days ago, but then the information supposedly "disappeared." If you're one of these people, you are on drugs. The alleged DVD news never actually existed; you are just victims of some weird mass hallucination, similar to the way some people report seeing the Virgin Mary in their mashed potatoes. Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I'm afraid someone has to.
Trent and Lesko hit the ground simultaneously, but since Lesko's pain threshold was much higher as a result of the massive amount of drugs in his body, Trent remained lying on the sidewalk in agony for a considerable length of time after Lesko had already gotten up and begun bouncing around.
"Come on, get up you sissy!" taunted Lesko. "You're not such a BAD ASS now, are ya?" Trent winced as he shifted his weight to his other side, and finally sat up.
"Get up! Up! Up!" Lesko shouted after he was finished punching a nearby brick wall. "I'm not leaving you here! As soon as I let you go, you'll report me to the Pentagon! And besides, I want my money!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked Trent, while picking gravel from his arm. "You're a damn nutcase. I mean, even more of a nutcase than I originally thought after seeing your ridiculous infomercials."
"No time for small talk! Come on, the cops are coming! We're going to escape down that alley over there, across the street!" Trent slowly stood up and began feeling for broken ribs. Everything felt all right, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"Took you long enough!" snarled Lesko. "Wuss! Now let's go! Come on!"
With that, Lesko lept into the air and started across the street. Realizing that Trent was not following him, he turned around, his eyes wide with rage.
"Goddamn it, Troy! If you don't get the fuck--"
Lesko's sentence, as well as his life, was abruptly cut short by a speeding '91 Ford Festiva, appearing virtually out of nowhere and slamming head-on into Lesko, sending him rolling onto the windshield. The car swerved violently and came to a screeching halt, and Lesko landed on the asphalt as a lifeless heap. The squealing of the tires and the crunching sound of the impact were followed by a long silence, and Trent stared at the scene in disbelief.
"Eh, oh well," he said, finally. "I guess now I've seen everything."
He began to approach the car when a glimmer of light near the deceased Lesko caught his eye. Upon closer inspection, Trent suddenly recognized the shiny object lying in the road.
"It's the DVD!" he exclaimed. "Thank god! I'm getting the hell out of here."
Trent picked up the disc, examined it, and wiped off the blood onto Lesko's suit. Looking around and seeing no witnesses, he whistled to himself and casually strolled down the sidewalk, hoping not to draw any attention to himself or encounter any fans on his way back to the studio.
Trent walked for several blocks, and came to the conclusion that he was lost.
"Fuck. I'm lost," he concluded. He looked around for a street sign, and saw that he was on Allen St.
"Hmm. Allen St. Think I know where that is. This is going to be a really long walk."
Trent continued down the street, keeping his eye open for an available taxi cab. Suddenly his path was blocked by a skinny, pale homeless man. The man staggered and stared at Trent with his sunken, beady eyes. Before Trent could react, the man pulled out a gun and pointed it shakily at him. "Gimme your money, man," said the assailant. "I'm not screwing around here."
"Richard? What the hell are you doing?"
"Yeah, I know who you are!" Richard Patrick continued, his speech slurred. "You th-think you're hot shit because you're famous! Well, I used to be f-famous too! I used to be in Nine Inch Nails! That is, until that fucker Trent R-reznor made me quit, and now look at me! I suck!"
"Uh... I'm Trent Reznor," said Trent.
Richard paused, and lowered the gun slightly. "Say what?"
"I'm Trent Reznor. You were in my band."
Richard staggered backwards a few steps. "Huh? ...Oh, shit! It is you! I thought you were John Cusack!"
There was a brief moment of silence, and suddenly Trent and Richard burst into laughter. Trent finally stopped laughing when Richard pointed the gun back at his face.
"Look, I don't have any money," Trent explained. "Just let me get back to my studio, please. I've had a really fucked up day."
"Oh waaaah!", Richard retorted. "Poor Trent! He had a really fucked up day! What, did one of your handmaidens feed you a grape with a seed in it? Did you lose the keys to your brand new Porsche? Or... wait, I know! Daisy crapped on your $40,000 bearskin rug again!"
Trent rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this. Move out of the way, Richard."
"Hey!" Richard interrupted, pointing at the disc in Trent's hand. "What's that ya got there, huh? Some groundbreaking new songs? Are you gonna get on the cover of Rolling Stone again? Gimme it."
"Sorry, you can't have it," said Trent, shaking his head. "I've gone through too much shit today to just hand this DVD over to some punk like you."
"Ooooh! It's a DVD!" Richard exclaimed, and reached out to grab it from Trent.
Trent pushed Richard away, and a scuffle ensued. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.
Leo tightened the bandage on Meathead's shoulder.
"That should stop the bleeding, I guess," said Leo. "I don't really know that much about this first aid stuff."
"Okay," said Charlie, "Meathead's bandaged up, Rob's been fed... now, is there anything else that needs taken care of before we head out to find the DVD and Trent?"
"I have to go to the bathroom," replied Leo.
"You were just in the bathroom, Leo," said Charlie.
"Oh yeah," said Leo. "Heheh. Yeah. I guess I don't have to go right now then."
"What car are we gonna take?" asked Danny.
"Let's take Trent's," replied Charlie. "My car's in the shop. Again."
"We can't," said Danny, "Trent lost the keys to it, remember? Besides, you know what happened last time we took his car. You were there, Leo, you should remember! You had to keep that ice pack on your--"
"I remember," Leo quickly cut in. "I remember."
"Oh well," said Danny, "there's no way all of us would fit in that little Porsche anyway."
"We'll take my truck!" announced Keith. "I just filled up the tank this morning!"
"The truck it is!" exclaimed Charlie, fastening Rob's leash. "Let's go!"
Keith grabbed his keys from the key rack, put on his hat and sprinted out the door, followed by Danny, Charlie, Rob, and finally Meathead, limping slowly behind.
"I need to go to the hospital," wheezed Meathead.