Three Hearts-Remy

“BANZAI!”

The warcry preceded the sight of a motorcycle power-sliding around the street corner, a one-eyed Haunter driving while an eyeless man in an island shirt sat behind the Ghost and a one-eyed man wearing a duster and Dundee hat had his fingers wrapped around the back of the bike’s seat.

After nearly colliding into the side of a Fiat, the chopper snarled as it shot forwards, flames bursting out of the exhaust pipes. Barely a moment passed before the trio overtook an angry Irishman by using the back of his car as a ramp for them to soar through the air, the motorcycle landing with a loud clang. Tearing down the street, the Haunter weaving through traffic and running red lights like a bat out of hell.

Ten minutes of being a road menace passed before the bike slid into a narrow parking space between a Ford pickup truck and a Range Rover. The chopper gave its driver a mechanical purr while the Ghost gave it a few revs.

“Remy, must you always drive like a maniac?” Rem quipped as he straightened out his green island shirt.

The Haunter affectionately stroked the motorcycle. “Susan luvsit when I take ‘er fer a spin.” Remy replied.

Remus plucked his black Dundee hat off and brushed away some dust. “And does Susan share your enthusiasm for dancing with death?”

“I’ze already dead.” Remy shot back. “Besides,” he gave Susan a few pats on the gas tank. “she wuz made fer bein’ drivin’ like ‘dat.”

If Rem had eyes, he would’ve rolled them.

“Me and Rem here would like to stay alive.”  Remus pointed out as he hopped off the bike, his eldest brother following suit.

“Don’t knock it till ya tried it!” Remy cackled before he turned Susan around and tore off down the street. The reflections of his brothers getting smaller in Susan’s mirrors, Remy gave the chopper full throttle and sent himself careening down the street with a stream of fire and string of destroyed driving laws in his wake.

Defying every road rule he was taught, Remy’s wild driving flew in the face of the laws of physics as he began driving his bike sideways as it used the side of buildings as a road. As people gawked and stared at this seemingly impossible feat, the Ghost pushed Susan to even greater speeds and leapt off the buildings and back onto the street, a poor woman’s Prius serving as a landing pad.

Ten more minutes of road-rage passed before Remy began slowing down, Susan reaching a comfortable cruising speed as they reached the seedier parts of town. Buildings painted with graffiti seeped decay as crows croaked above them. Oil drums blazed with fires within backalleys as men and women dressed in worn-out clothes huddled around them.

Driving up to an abandoned factory, Remy drove straight into its gutted insides and finally turned Susan off. Only two meters ahead of him, a Gastly with long brown hair and a Gengar in a spiked leather jacket were setting up a drumkit, a guitar case lying next to them.

“Took your sweet time.” The Gengar grunted as he adjusted a crash cymbal.

Remy dropped his bike keys into the gaping abyss of his top hat. “I’ze gunna ‘ave ya know ‘dat I sped me way ‘ere.”

“Right.” The Gastly remarked sarcastically.

Remy pulled his dark purple Stratocaster out from his hat. “Well I’ze ‘ere now. Ya manikraks wanna get ta werk ‘er what?”

The Gengar opened up the guitar case and held up the black Mustang Bass. “Drums alright Headbanger?” the Ghost asked as he plucked the strings.

Headbanger slammed his forehead into a few of the drums and cymbals. “All good Metal.”

Remy strummed his guitar. “Alright boyos, We’ze Want Fun. Now… four nine six two!”

In unison the Ghost trio began rocking out, their rock n’ roll echoing through the deserted and dead hallways. Remy plucked riffs and chords while Metal kept the groove and screamed his heart out. Headbanger kept bouncing from one drum to another, his head a black blur in his violet cloud-like body.

After playing songs for an hour, Remy turned to his bandmates. “So when’ze Mochi showin’ up?”

“I’m already here.”

The Haunter turned around to see another Gengar amongst them. Unlike Metal, Mochi had a shorter stature and she sported a navy blue flannel shirt rather then a leather jacket. Tucked under her arm was a black portfolio bulging with papers sheathed in plastic.

After a moment of awkward silence, Remy put his guitar back in his hat. “Well in me defence, I’ze still ‘aint able ta tell when one of ya bloody Gengars Shadow-Warp.”

Mochi rolled her crimson eyes. “And I thought that we were related.”

Remy raised his index finger. “Darwinikally speakin’ we are.”

Headbanger drifted out from behind his drumkit. “So what’s on the menu today?”

Mochi opened up the folder and produced several drawings. “These.” She answered as she handed them to Remy.

The Haunter held up the first one for his bandmates to see. It was a sketch of a screaming skull with ‘Deadman Walking’ carved into its forehead as it belched purple fire. After a few ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’, Remy brought the next one up and the trio was looking at a drawing of a zombie rising from its grave with an electric guitar in its hand. The last drawing were three skulls seated at the base of a Stratocaster.

The members of Metaghoulz sifted through the concept art. As they did, they murmured with each other about which one to use.

“Found one you three like?” Mochi piped up after a moment of deliberation.

Remy looked at his bandmates and they nodded in agreement. “Numba three’ze da one.” The Haunter announced.

“Alrighty then.” Mochi remarked as she packed up her concept art. “I’ll get to coloring, rendering, and effects later on.”

“Actually,” Headbanger interjected “wouldja like to stay for a little bit? Something like this should be celebrated.”

“Over pie!” Metal added.

Mochi chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll stay for a little bit.”

“Splendid!” Metal exclaimed. The Gengar turned to Remy. “Mr. Slade, make yourself useful for once and go get some pies for us.”

The Haunter raised a ghostly eyebrow. “Why me?”

“Cos you’ve got the bike.” Headbanger retorted.

“Fine.” Remy took his hat off and fished his keys out. Hopping on to the motorcycle, he fired up the engine and gave Susan a few revs before tearing down the decayed hallway.

As Susan’s metallic growl echoed away, Mochi turned to the other Ghosts. “He’s in denial alright.”

“Too proud to admit that she’s not coming back.” Metal remarked.

“How bad was it?” Mochi inquired.

“She dumped him.” Headbanger sighed.

Mochi gave a low whistle. “Jeez. And she was a good one too.”

“That’s what hurt him the most.” Metal conceded.

“You’ll take this one right?” Headbanger asked.

Mochi spun on the two musicians. “Wait, what?!”

“Well he’s emotionally constipated. You can be the laxative.” Metal spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And why can’t either of you two be the spiritual Pepto-Bismol?!” Mochi ranted.

Metal gestured to himself and Headbanger. “Duh, we’re guys.”

“We’re insensitive.” The Gastly added.

“Ugh.” Mochi groaned as she facepalmed. “Doesn’t anger come after denial though?”

“Since when does Remy follow the program?”

Susan’s snarls snapped the trio back to reality. Turning around, they saw Remy cruise back in. “Got blueberry.” The Haunter announced as he turned the chopper off. “Didn’t ‘ave any apple.”

“That’s alright.” Mochi commented as she tried to maintain a guise of normality. Turning around, she saw Metal and Headbanger gesture towards Remy. As the Haunter rummaged through his hat, Mochi drifted towards him. “So how’s things between you and Linda?”

Remy froze. After a few seconds, he burst out with the most fake and unconvincing laugh known to man. “Great.” He answered, a psychotic glint in his eye. He then produced something wrapped in a brown paper bag. “‘Ere it is! Who wants ta go first?”

“It’s alright to cry or… something.” Mochi commented.

Remy took no notice of the Gengar “I’ll take that as I get ta go first!”

“I mean it you’re still breathing.”

“Anyone ‘ave a knife?”

Mochi groaned. She was getting nowhere. ‘I’m sorry Remington’ she thought to herself. ‘but you need to hear this.’ Swallowing any hesitation, Mochi finally broke the camel’s back with the four words, “She’s not coming back.”

Remy had his back to her as he suddenly stopped. A slight tremor shook his ghastly form as he crawled into his hat. When he was inside, it fell to the ground with a dull thump.

Mochi kneeled next to the fallen top hat and poked it. “Remy?”

“Yeah?” she heard the cracking in his voice.

“Why are you in your hat?”

“I’m looking for a knife.” Remy sniffed.

Mochi’s eyes widened. “Are you actually crying?”

Remy couldn’t hide it anymore. “Yes!” his hat muffled the sound of his crying, the top hat slightly jerking to the side as he slammed his forehead into it.

For the next few minutes, the Gastly and Gengars waited around the top hat that sat on the ground, waiting for Remy to finally finish releasing all of his repressed heartbreak. After 14 minutes of weeping, his hat tilted to the side as a shadowed glimpse of his face glanced outside.

“You alright?” Mochi asked as she leaned closer to the gap.

Remy sniffed again. “A little.”

“Was it that bad?” Headbanger asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“Yep.” Remy answered miserably.

“How?” Metal inquired.

Remy’s face edged a few centimetres closer. “Fer the first few months, we’ze were insekerable. She was everythin’ I was lookin’ fer. Then she calls it off cuz she’s now bored with me?!” Anger began to seep into his grief.

“Ouch.” It was all Metal could say.

“What really made it hurt was when she asked if she could still keep ’er backstage pass.” Remy added. His voice began to slip back into misery. “She didn’t really like me, I was jus a cheap thrill ta ’er.”

The sudden loud vibrations in Metal’s pocket made everyone turn to face him. Producing his cellphone, Metal snapped it open and put it to his ear. “Hello?” after the voice on the other end of the line finished speaking, Metal lowered the phone. “It’s Kelly. He wants to know if we’re still going to be Rock n’ Romance’s headliner.”

Remy could only nod his head.

Metal put the phone back to his mouth.  “We’re still good to go.”

As Metal hang up, Headbanger hovered down so he was inches away from Remy. “You sure about this?”

Remy nodded again. “Musik makes me ’appy”

Mochi unwrapped the pie and slid it towards Remy. “Sympathy pie?”

Remy’s hand drifted out from the depths of his hat with a knife and began divvying up the blueberry pie. “Thanks mate.”