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| Castor & Ryan Hetfield tell it how it is; A slant on the Hetfield Family. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 5, 2008, 5:06 pm (12,024 Views) | |
| Lucifer's Angel | May 17, 2008, 10:20 am Post #91 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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To be honest, Cali is such a bitch, I don't care if she gets a new liver or not She's a rotten, spoiled little brat and I hope she suffers a bit more. Not very charitable, but that's how I feel
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| Lady Hammett | May 17, 2008, 10:52 am Post #92 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Haha. Looks like I've brought out the right emotions in my audience, then!
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| Lady Hammett | May 17, 2008, 10:55 am Post #93 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Marcella and I talked about Cali a lot when we met at lunch each day. “Yeah, Mom and Dad want you to donate your kidney,” Cella confirmed. “This is ridiculous. I’m only thirteen,” I protested. But I knew an emergency was an emergency, and that Cali had to have the kidney to live. “Well, they really want Ryan. But you know how stubborn Ryan is.” “He won’t give it. Besides, what if Sue needs it one day?” “Yeah. I know.” For a while we just sat there. Then Jason Manson, one of the school yearbook people, came round to take our picture. So forever, in the 2013-2014 school yearbook of Falkirk Middle School, there is a photo of us looking glum and dazed at the prospect of me losing my kidney! Dad called eventually, saying that nobody else was a match. And that it was going to have to be one of us. “Fine,” Ryan replied, “IF we’re matches. If we’re not, I don’t want to hear another word of this. And that’s only if Castor is okay with it.” I wasn’t. It wasn’t long before Kirk Jr. came over and offered to be of help. Ryan thanked him for giving it a try. Kirk Jr. went to the hospital to be tested, and while he was there, Aunt Lani and Uncle Kirk came over our house. We discussed the matter solemnly, and they too were not sure how to handle it. They certainly agreed that I was too young to have to go through this, though. Ryan told them that a friend of his was at the hospital being tested, but he didn’t say his name of course! “I do hope he’s a match,” Kirk muttered. But in my heart I knew it was unlikely. He had Kirk’s genetics, after all, and Kirk wasn’t a match! We didn’t expect Kirk Jr. to return without calling. But next thing I knew, Steph was inviting him into the house. And since they’d been best friends as kids, I heard them nattering away in the kitchen. Darn! Now we’d have to introduce him to Kirk and Lani! Ryan excused himself, and rushed into the kitchen. Then he told Kirk Jr. that Kirk and Lani from the Salinas world were in here! “Aw, shoot. Do I have to get out of here?” he asked. “It might be best,” Stephanie replied. They hadn’t crossed paths at the wedding, thankfully. But they would here! Kirk Jr. began scooting to the door. But before he could, Lani came out of the restroom! I hadn’t even seen her go to the restroom! “Hi, my name is Lani Hammett, nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. Kirk Jr. was shocked. In the end, he replied, “Hi, my name is Chester Magnus.” Chester who? Stephanie, Ryan and I cackled to ourselves. “Chester Magnus” introduced himself the same way to Kirk, too! “Oh, by the way guys, I’m not a match,” he confirmed, then headed out the door. __________________________________________________________________ I took a deep breath as the doctor gave the news. Then he confirmed it: I was a match. That meant I had to give my kidney to Cali, or she wouldn’t live. That made me mad. Even if I gave her the kidney, she would drink herself to death or overdose anyway, wouldn’t she? This was stupid. But I was almost as tall as Dad, an ADULT now. So it was decided that I was Cali’s only hope. Ryan and Steph didn’t like it, but I decided to do this. Cali would never thank me for it, but at least it would shut the Hetfields up. They could never blame me for not doing anything! I lay on the hospital bed waiting for anesthetic, and Ryan came in holding Sue. I kissed Sue on her cheek. Then the anesthetic was given, and I passed out. I woke up sore in the area where the kidney had been removed. Had I done the right thing? Would my own wife or child need it one day? It was too late now. I started when I realized that two people were hovered over me. They had blond hair, I realized, as their features came together. But it wasn’t Steph and Ryan. It was Mom and Dad. I screamed, actually. I didn’t want them here! “Castor!” Dad shouted. “Calm down. We just wanted to come in here to tell you that you’ve done the right thing.” “Oh, have I?” I found myself retorting. “I sure hope so. One day I might need that kidney for someone in my future family.” Dad rolled his eyes. “That’s what Ryan said.” “Could you guys please leave me alone? Ryan and Stephanie will be here any minute.” Then Mom spoke up, which surprised me. She usually didn’t when Dad was around. He was the typical macho man that had to prove to everyone that he was head of household. “Castor, we just wanted to thank you for saving Cali’s life. That’s all. We’re not here to give you a hard time, or try to make you come back home. We just wanted to say thanks.” She looked at Dad, who said nothing. Then he took her hand, and they left. How nice of them to say thanks. I knew Cali wouldn’t. And she didn’t. I recovered at home, spending a few weeks having my schoolwork dropped off by teachers. Cali recovered too. Soon I was back at school, and then when the school year ended, Ryan’s band would be embarking on another tour. It wasn’t long before Cali was back on the road herself. It was as though she’d never had a problem. She was burning bras again and boasting that she was a Jagermeister drinker like her father. Surely Dad must have been embarrassed about that, especially after completing rehab? She would drink right in front of the cameras, and I knew she’d already been arrested many times for underage drinking, and drugs of course. But as usual, she just paid her way out of the charges. She added thongs and other underwear to the pile that she burnt onstage. Sometimes she took her own bra and underwear off and threw it out to the audience, then somebody would bring a whole pile of bras for her to burn onstage. So much for her new kidney. The prospect of imminent death had not been a scare to her. Now she was ruining my kidney with drugs and alcohol, so I was seething with anger. I almost wanted to go ask her for the kidney back! But Ryan and Stephanie had taught me not to be an Indian giver. As the school year drew to a close, Marcella continued to hang out at the house every now and then, keeping it a secret from our parents. She told us that Metallica was going on tour soon too, and of course, it turned out that Plate Tectonics would be playing at the same festival again on the same day. This time the festival was in Canada. Again, it would be at the end of Plate Tectonics’ tour, but not at the end of Metallica’s. Marcella and I made plans to hang out in secret that day. We’d sneak out of the hotel and hang out around town. Somehow we’d pull it off, and we didn’t care what anybody else might think. “I’ll buy some mace,” said Marcella, “That way if anyone tries to stop us . . .” “But would you be able to get it through airport security?” I asked, eyebrows raised. Cella smiled. She seemed plain, quiet and invisible among the Hetfields, but to us Grahams she was very clever. “There’s only one way to find out,” she replied. And then I began to formulate a plan of my own. |
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 17, 2008, 10:58 am Post #94 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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If that were me, I wouldn't give her a damn kidney, I'd be dancing on her grave :horns2 Cali is an ungrateful little bitch, if I had a kidney transplant, I'd do my damnedest to stay sober It may sound uncharitable, but I'm not a Christian, it's no hair off my back
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| Lady Hammett | May 17, 2008, 11:02 am Post #95 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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LOL. I know what you mean. I'm a Christian now, but I haven't been for long. So it used to be that it didn't matter whether people were forgiven or not. It's not natural for humans to forgive, and I could never have made myself learn, I had to let God do the work. But I'm not here to preach. However, I have written this story to illustrate that the Grahams are trying their best to be a good family, and they will not ever stoop to the Hetfields' level! |
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| Lady Hammett | May 17, 2008, 11:03 am Post #96 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ And don't forget to read Castor's update above! |
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| Lady Hammett | May 17, 2008, 8:04 pm Post #97 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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And Ryan goes again: I had no idea how much a movie could make me cry. I was watching Street Dogs of South Central, a documentary about the lives of stray dogs living on the streets of L.A. Stephanie cried too, and she hardly ever cries during movies! We were on tour, resting in the hotel room before the show. Castor had a room of his own in our large suite, and we knew that Plate Tectonics would soon be crossing paths with Metallica at the festival in Toronto. We watched the poor stray dogs in the movie fighting to survive as cars nearly hit them and they ate out of trash cans. Many animal services people tried to capture them, only for the dogs to end up euthanized. “This is awful,” I moaned. “I’m totally going to spay and neuter my pets from now on,” commented Stephanie. I called for Castor, in his room, to come watch the movie. Sweet Sue was asleep in another room. “Castor!” I called, not so loud as to wake the baby, but loud enough so that he’d hear. No reply. During the commercial break, I headed over to Castor’s room. But his door was locked. What on earth was he doing in there? We had two dogs back at home, and they were both from shelters. It had been a random decision to get them from a pound, but after watching this sad movie, Steph and I decided that we were going to always get our pets from shelters from now on, and never from breeders! Castor didn’t come out to watch the movie. I figured he wasn’t plotting anything sinister in there, and if he was, it was probably against James – and that was fine. When we got to Toronto, I learned that, coincidentally enough, we’d be sharing the same hotel with Metallica. Oh well – that meant we could eat breakfast with Kirk and Lani, so that would be great. I wished Marcella could join us, but she’d be with the Hetfields. I decided to go down to the hot tub. Stephanie was tired, Sue was napping, but Castor decided he’d come along too. So we went down to the pool area, turned the hot tub on, and took a dip. “Mmm, this is the life,” said Castor as the foam lathered up around him. We began to talk, and Castor confided that he was angry about Cali getting his kidney and not even being thankful for it. She hadn’t even changed her ways. I was upset too, of course. I didn’t think Castor should have even gone through that, and that at his age it was a lot to give up, but Cali obviously didn’t care. “She deserved to die,” said Castor. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure whether I could condone that statement. Maybe it wouldn’t have been a fatherly thing to condone, especially when I’d just given life to someone else. I’d also saved Castor’s life by getting him out of the Hetfield house. However, Cali was a real creep, and it was true that she hadn’t deserved Castor’s kidney. We soaked it up for a while when a man got into the hot tub, too. We both gasped when we realized that it was James. Dammit, why couldn’t he leave us alone? Castor couldn’t even stand to look at him. He bolted upright and left the hot tub, not even bothering to look James in the eye. “Where are you going, mister?” James called. “Leave him the hell alone,” I snapped. “What do you think you’re doing here? I shouldn’t have allowed them to schedule my band on this festival.” Castor dried himself, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Before he walked away, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Keep him distracted.” I didn’t ask why. I didn’t even think to ask why, actually. So I continued to argue with James about everything under the sun – my childhood, Castor’s childhood, Cali’s life. Cali’s life was the best one to argue about. “She didn’t deserve Castor’s kidney. Look at the way she is living! On drugs and alco-” “DON’T YOU DARE!” James screamed. “You’re in denial, aren’t you?” I accused. “Marcella told Castor who told me that, well, you’re basically in denial about the way she is living! How irresponsible is that!” James said nothing. I wasn’t sure how long I should keep him distracted, so I just kept pestering him. Eventually the timer on the hot tub ran out, and I got up and left abruptly. The festival was going to start soon, so I got ready. I had no idea where Castor had run off to. I thought to call him on his cell phone, but decided to leave it. He was probably hanging out with Marcella around the town as they’d planned. I hadn’t realized that Cali’s band was playing here too. They were last, apparently. The festival went on uneventfully. I remembered that one of the songs we played was “In Chains”, but I can’t tell you the other two. And forget about remembering what was on Metallica’s set. At the end of the show, people filed out until very few remained backstage. I got through signing autographs before Metallica headed into the area. I did get to mingle with Kirk and Lani briefly while avoiding James! Castor and Marcella still had not returned. I tried to get ahold of Castor on his cell phone, but all I got was his voicemail: “Hi, it’s Castor, can’t talk right now, leave a message please.” “Castor, just let me know where you are. Bye.” That was all there was to be said. I got back to the hotel and went for another dip in the hot tub, knowing that James shouldn’t be here this time! Then, suddenly, Stephanie came running into the pool area, holding Sue. “Ryan! There’s been an explosion in the backstage area! People are dead!” |
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| Wishful | May 18, 2008, 5:47 am Post #98 |
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Cliff and Lars Lover
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One Cali you ungrateful little fuck! Two how Kirk and Lani didn't recognise Kirk jr is beyond me! Three Fuck i hope Castor and Cella weren't killed!!! I need more damn it!!
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 18, 2008, 9:01 am Post #99 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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WTF just happened?
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| Lady Hammett | May 18, 2008, 2:04 pm Post #100 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Marcella and I raced away from the area, making sure that nobody had seen us. We continued to run until we couldn’t anymore. We were in a patch of thick woods, panting and groaning. Marcella put her hands on her knees and bent over as she breathed. “Don’t do that!” I cried. “I saw someone pass out that way. Put your arms above your head!” And she did. We sat down on a log, not believing what we’d just done. We knew we’d have to get back to the hotel, and separately. “We’ll take this to our grave,” said Marcella softly. “Of course,” I replied. So we hugged, then parted ways. We each hailed a taxi back to the hotel, separate ones of course, and then I entered the hotel through the back pool area and Marcella entered through the front. I rushed up to our suite and knocked on the door. Ryan opened. “Castor, where the hell have you been?” “Nowhere. Just hanging out with Marcella, but we had to do it in secret, you know?” “Are you okay? There’s been an explosion at the backstage area. People are dead, and they think Cali, Carl and Myles are three of them that died.” “WHAT?” I shouted. We sat around in the hotel room, watching the news. It turned out that Cali and Carl had died, and Myles was severely injured. A couple fans were dead, and others were being rushed to the hospital. Pretending to be in grief, I jumped up and ran out of the room. But then, when I got to the end of the hall, I made a secret phone call to Marcella. “Mission accomplished,” she whispered. “We killed her!” “And that creep Carl,” I added. “Hey, Dad’s coming. I have to go. Love ya!” “Love you too.” I hung up. I didn’t feel like going back into the room – I needed time to digest what had just happened. So I called Ryan and told him that I was taking a walk. I was standing by a bank of elevators, and began by descending to the ground floor. Then I took a long walk around the grounds. The nightmare was over – she was finally dead, and could never hurt anyone again. I hoped she was an organ donor – that way, maybe my kidney would actually go to someone who deserved it. |
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| Lady Hammett | May 18, 2008, 2:29 pm Post #101 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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We were sitting there, eating at the hotel restaurant. Plate Tectonics was done touring, but Metallica wasn’t. The funeral for Carl and Cali was being planned. Marcella was eating with us, actually. Francesca had let her, because she and James were grieving together. Since James’s favorite child had just been lost, he probably hadn’t even noticed that Cella had gone to be with us. I didn’t like the way that she and Castor were talking about Cali’s death. “I’m going to dance on her grave,” Marcella said with glee. “I’m gonna spit on it,” Castor laughed. What was wrong with these kids? Had they gone evil all of a sudden? Maybe I just didn’t understand. I hadn’t had to live with Cali, but they had. Had she really been that awful to them? When Cella chimed in, “What about letting other bodily functions go on the grave-”, I put my hand up and told them to stop. “That’s enough,” I snapped. “That really isn’t necessary, is it? I don’t care how much you hated her. Just let the whole thing go.” “I agree,” Stephanie said on a mouthful of salad. They shut up and continued to eat. I didn’t think for the life of me that they’d had anything to do with it just because they were celebrating her death, honestly. I just thought they were glad that the world had unloaded of her. We got back to the room and began to pack. We’d be leaving back to California the next morning, and needed a good night’s sleep. When it was time for Marcella to go back to her parents’ suite, Stephanie and I decided to buy some flowers for James and Francesca and give our condolences. If there were enough time, maybe we would go to the hospital where Myles was and pray over him with Lars and Layne. We asked Castor to watch Sue, which he’d done a million times before, and went out to buy the flowers. Cella chose for us because she knew best what her parents would like. Then we drove back to the hotel and went up to their room. I knocked on the door. I could hear them weeping inside. James flung the door open. Before he could say anything, I said, “Here are my condolences for the loss of your daughter, sir.” I handed him the flowers. But he didn’t accept them. Instead, he snatched them from my hand and threw them out into the hallway. “I don’t want your fucking flowers,” he swore. “I want you to apologize to this family for what you have caused! I bet it was your fault that it happened! You killed her, didn’t you?” I was shocked. Stephanie stood up for me. “EXCUSE ME?” she screamed. “How could you say that to your own son?” “You’re no son of mine. You never were, and you never will be. Get the hell out of here.” Francesca rushed up to the door. “I’m sorry about this, guys. I’ll pick up the flowers later.” “Don’t bother,” James ordered. Then he grabbed Marcella’s wrist and yanked her into the suite. The door slammed shut. Stephanie began to gather up the flowers strewn across the hall. “Let’s just give these to Lars instead,” she groaned. |
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 18, 2008, 2:29 pm Post #102 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Is it horrible of me to say she deserved it? I'd probably do the same thing, I hope no one ever finds out :horns2
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| Wishful | May 18, 2008, 4:27 pm Post #103 |
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Cliff and Lars Lover
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Hahahaha what a pity ding dong the bitch is gone!!! |
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| Lady Hammett | May 18, 2008, 4:54 pm Post #104 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Man. You guys are brutal! But I'm glad you like the story. Castor's turn: After giving Sweet Sue her bath, I told her a bedtime story, then put her to bed. She still wasn’t sleepy, so I pulled out Ryan’s acoustic guitar and sang her a song. Finally, her little eyes closed in rest. I smiled to myself. A horrible life had left the world and a new, beautiful one had sprung into it. I was watching TV when there came a knock on the door. I assumed it was Ryan and Stephanie, back early, maybe because they’d forgotten their key? But it wasn’t. Instead, two police officers stood there at the door. CRAP. I steeled myself as they came inside and told me that they were going to ask me questions. “Castor, where were you at eight o’clock yesterday night?” These were two men in their middle ages, both Asian, hardly over five feet tall. That surprised me. We saw a lot of small Asian cops in San Francisco, but I didn’t expect there to be many here! “Um, I was eating with my sister, Marcella,” I replied. “And then I came back here to Ryan and Stephanie – my brother and sister-in-law – and they told me what happened on the news and everything.” “At eight o’ clock you were eating with Marcella? Where?” I told them that we were eating Chinese food, but I couldn’t remember what it was called or where it was. The questions poured out, and they weren’t buying my story. Finally, one of them said, “Castor, your story isn’t adding up. I’m afraid that you are under arrest. You are a suspect in the murder of Cali Hetfield, Carl Rodgers, Brandon Watson, and Mallory Kaeger (the names of the two fans that had died).” “I can’t!” I cried. “I’m babysitting my niece, Susan. She’s only a year old!” They verified that I was watching Sweet Sue. But they ended up calling the hotel nursery, and two of the staff from the nursery came to collect her. I kissed her soft cheek, then cried as they put the handcuffs on me. The little Asian men led me down the hall as I towered over them. I didn’t put up a fight, though. I had no doubt that, as experienced cops, they had been trained to take down tall guys like me. So I just did as they said. I was crying, though. They crammed me into the back of the cop car downstairs. My legs were long, and I was cramped back there. But I guess I’d gotten what I deserved, I figured. I’d been cocky. Who had I been to judge whether Cali should have lived or died? That night in a Canadian jail was horrible. I guess it wasn’t any different than an American jail, and far better than a Mexican one from what I’ve heard. But it smelled, and I was in a cell with other teenage boys that reeked. There was only one toilet, and I didn’t dare take down my pants in front of these people. So I just sat there and cried. Had Marcella been arrested too? I wondered. |
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| Wishful | May 18, 2008, 5:07 pm Post #105 |
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Cliff and Lars Lover
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Oh shit Castor! what the fuck is Ryan, Steph, Kirk, and James gunna say! James is gunna kill Castor, shit, fuck, crap!!!! |
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She's a rotten, spoiled little brat and I hope she suffers a bit more. Not very charitable, but that's how I feel





8:49 PM Jul 10