Читать книгу My Appetite for Destruction: Sex & Drugs & Guns ‘N’ Roses - Steven Adler - Страница 24

About a month later, my mother was having a Tupperware party. I came in shit-faced out of my mind and said real casual, “Hey, Ma.” There were about a dozen sweet old ladies right there in the dining room. I smiled; they smiled back. I thought I was so slick, fooling them all.

But then I felt a little shaky. I grabbed the back of the couch to stop from keeling over. Suddenly I power-booted all over the place, right in front of them. Technicolor Yawn, the Big Spit, Ralph-a-Roni. It’s amazing how much more you can puke up after you think you’re finished. I saw the nub of a hot dog in there that I’m pretty sure I’d eaten two days ago.

These women went from shifting uneasily in their seats to wanting the fuck out of there. They were afraid I was going to fill up the room with vomit and they’d drown. They certainly had a right to panic, because it felt like I yakked for a half hour.

Judging by the frozen look of horror on their faces, I was the girl in The Exorcist. Hell, I may as well have been Satan himself. Then Mel flew into the room. He completely lost it, swearing up and down, screaming like a drill sergeant that I was grounded for life.

So there I was, sick as a dog. They sent me straight up to bed. I had been skipping school every day for about a month by that point, and as luck would have it, the day after I ruined my mom’s party (and sofa), the school called my home.

That’s when my dad, Mel, who was still livid about the barf, blew a gasket and screamed at my mom: “That’s it. It’s either him or me.” I found out her choice the next day when I came home from the 7-Eleven where I had snuck out for a Slurpee. It was the only thing I felt I could coax down at the time; I was so hungover and dehydrated.

I turned the corner back to my house and…what the fuck? Mel had taken all my stuff and dumped it on the sidewalk. My clothes, a football, a couple of eight-tracks, and whatever else I owned was now all outside. I went in to ask what was going on, and all I remember was my dad and me getting into a big argument and his chasing me around the house.

But although I was screaming back at Mel and telling him what a totally unreasonable, heartless jerk he was, I knew deep down this day was coming. And while I’ve picked up lots of sympathy points over the years by telling people my parents kicked me out on the streets when I was only eleven, I had probably pushed them past the limit more quickly than your average juvenile terror.

So I guess it was time for me to leave. That was it. They paid the bills, they called the shots, so I was out of there. My grandpop, Stormin’ Norman, came and picked me up. He helped me put my junk in his car.