Chapter 1

One Monday morning Tuomas woke up on the road after a longnight of rocking out, and was putting on his socks, like every morning. He soon noticed that it had a hole in it. Alas! It was the last pair. He thought about asking to borrow a pair from Marco, but Marco is a giant and his socks are muchtoo big. He thought about asking to borrow a pair from Emppu, but Emppu is adwarf and his socks are much too small. He thought about borrowing a pair from Anette. She had to have big feet for she had big shoes to fill when she replaced Tarja. But Anette is very self-conscience about her big feet andTuomas did not want to bring up the subject and give her low self-esteem. There is already enough of that in the Nightwish realm. He thought about asking Jukka but no. Jukka is a pirate and only wears pirate sandals and nobody wears socks with sandals.



What to do?

And so Tuomas' epic sock shopping adventurequest on Mondaymorning began…

Chapter 2

Tuomas needed socks and he needed them quick. He had a fan meet'n’greet at noon, and could not be seen with his un-pedicured toes naked for the world to see. Oh how embarrassing it would be for all of the fangirls to see him in such a state! It would be published on blogs for all to read until eternity. He could envision the headlines already. “SOCKS AND AWE: TUOMAS PREPARES FOR WAR ON FASHION.” “SUPERFICIAL NO-MORE: TUOMAS’ FEETEXPOSED AS A SAD AND PATHETIC MESS WITH LITTLE HOPE OF IMPROVEMENT UNTILTHE NEXT ALBUM.” “NO SOCKS! WHAT’S NEXT? NO…” and so they went, these horrors in his head. He had to find a store so he could be sexy once more. He asked Emppu. Emppu is a dwarf and has to stand on a stool to talk to anyone of average height. He could quickly sense something was wrong, as it was one of the few times Tuomas wanted to talk to him when he wasn’t in the studio making mistakes on guitar, not being able to reach the last frets on his purple ESP midget edition.

“Emppu, is there a good clothing store around here?” asked Tuomas.

“Yes there’s a boutique just around the corner” Replied Emppu.

“That’s no good,” replied Tuomas, now quite worried. “See? I have no socks, and I can’t have paparazzi and fangirls following me and photographing me with bare feet.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” lied Emppu, for he had no idea what it was like to have fans.

“Hmm. Isn’t there that department store about 10 km north of Kuopio?”

Tuomas was getting desperate at this point. He could feel his career coming to a close, and was unsure if he could kill himself and come back to life a second time. Even the goth chicks would be put off by the idea of a zombie-zombie-Tuomas.

“It’s far but we will have to try. Jukka, turn the bus at the next exit. We have to go to Kuopio.”

“Aye?” said Jukka. Tuomas rolled his eyes.

“Yarrrrg matie. Plot a course north-west. We be raiding a trading post for valuable hidden treasure!”

Tuomas felt dirty, though he knew he should not have. He had endured Jukka’s pirate bullshit before, as well as hordes of fangirls chasing him every which way, begging him to read their awful fanfics.

“Aye aye captain. Plotting a course for Fort Bargain-Bin.”

So off they were. Time was short, and he hoped that they could reach their fan meet’n’greet in time.

Chapter 3

Socks. We don’t love them or hate them. We take them for granted. They come in all colours and designs, but as soon as the shoe goes on they are quickly forgotten. Tuomas was quickly starting to realize this. He took his socks for granted and they took revenge. Now he was speeding down a one-lane country road in less than desirable conditions with a delusional pirate at the wheel. Everyone has character faults, but when you’re in a hurry to buy socks for a meet’n’greet the last thing you need is for the bus driver to be threatening passing motorists with cannonfire and cutlasses. At normal times the band could live with his antics, but when Jukka started threatening to board a tanker truck full of highly-flammable gasoline, Tuomas knew it was time for him to take the helm.

“Jukka, man, why don’t you let me take over until this situation is finished?”

“Yarrrrg maytey. I not be hearin a correctly!”

“Dude, cut the crap and move over. I don’t have time for your pirate bullshit. I’m driving” said an increasingly frustrated Tuomas

“I’m the captain and this is my ship!” said Jukka indignantly.

“Move over, or you can join Tara’s solo band. I’m not going to my event sockless.”

“Just get a pair of these, ya scallywag. Yer on a pirate ship. There’s no need for fancy robes like yours, arrrrg.”

Though kind at heart, Jukka could never seem to understand the true value of public image, or why he always seemed to be confined to one stool at the back of the stage, where no one could see him behind all of his odd round percussion instruments. So long as he banged on them with sticks, no matter the order or combination, the crowd remained fixated on the more important band members. He didn’t care. All he wanted to do was to make loud and crashy noises like the sounds of cutlasses clashing and cannons firing. As long as he had these four geniuses in from of him onstage, he was safe.

Until now. Jukka was captain, and Tuomas was about to mutiny.

Chapter 4

The tension was so think you could cut it with a pendulum. An increasingly frustrated Tuomas stared Captain Jukka dead in the face.

“Listen to me, Jukka-“

“That’s Captain Jukka, ya skallaywag-“

Tuomas ran out of patience before Jukka could finish. He raised his right fist and punched the captain in the side of his head. He couldn’t see it coming with his eye patch covering his right eye, and his head was knocked through the open window. Jukka was dazed, but not confused.

“YARRRG YA SKALLAYWAG. YOU KNOW WHAT THE PUNISHMENT FOR MUTINY BE?”

Tuomas hated himself as much as he hated Jukka, but he would do what had to be done. He threw the pirate to the ground, took off of his pirate sandals, threw them out the window and forced his own holey socks over Jukka’s bare feet.

“NOW YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS, BITCH!”

Jukka was stunned. He couldn’t believe what disrespect had been bestowed upon him by a junior officer. He got up to walk back to the steering wheel, when he noticed his toes poking out of Tuomas’ socks, and had a sickening revelation: he had been wrong all along. Tuomas read the look on the humbled pirate’s face, and shoved him out of the way.

“That’s right,” he thought to himself indignantly. “I am the Oceansoul and I am at the helm.”

Though victorious for now, he still had a long way to go to Fort Bargain-bin, and hoped he could make it in time.

I tied myself to the wheel
The winds talk to my sails,
not me
(Come to me)
Somewhere there my fate
revealed
I hear but how will I see

Chapter 5

As it happened, Tuomas could drive much faster and more efficiently without a pesky pirate getting in his way. He knew he had hurt his friend’s feelings, but making the point was far more important that pandering to the whims of the immature. He got along so well on his own that he started to wonder whether or not he would better off that way. When he arrived in the parking lot at Fort Bargain-bin (which ironically was the store’s real name) he paused for a moment. He could enter, but now, rather than holey socks, he had none at all and he could not leave the bus like that.

What to do?

For the much same reasons he could not borrow any socks from the other band members, he could not ask them to enter the store to try them on. Then he had a rare stroke of genius. He had completely forgotten that he had a road crew, and asked Kimmo, the sound engineer, to do it. He agreed, and left the bus and set out across the parking lot for Fort Bargain-bin. At last, Tuomas had found someone who could actually help him; someone he could trust.

After a few minutes, Kimmo came out shaking his head.

“Sorry Tuomas, but Fort Bargain-bin only accepts gold doubloons as cash payment. We could try to barter, but I don’t think we have anything valuable.”

“No.” Said Tuomas. “I stopped Jukka before he could successfully raid the timber truck. So I have to ask Jukka to borrow some money?” As the only pirate in Nightwish, Jukka is the only one who carries gold doubloons with him everywhere he goes.

“Not only that.” Kimmo sighed, “Everyone in there talks like him.”

“So I have to get the jackass to translate for you as well?” asked Tuomas

“Well maybe it would be less awkward if I just called his cell if I have any trouble?” Even when Jukka is in his element in the pirate universe, even his closest associates do their utmost to distance themselves from him.

That seemed like the best option at this point, though after his mutiny this would still be awkward. After borrowing some pirate money, Kimmo entered the Fort again. Again he came out moments later shaking his head.

“Sorry Tuomas. Line’s dead.”

They turned back to the tour bus, and through the windows he could see that it was engulfed in smoke!

Chapter 6

Any normal person would have run to the tour bus without a second thought in that situation. Tuomas, however, is by no means a normal person. Introspective as he is, he had to think about this situation. Indeed it was a turning point. He had an important choice to make: resolve the sock issue and look good for the meet’n’greet, or save his friends from dying in a fire. This was difficult. He needed to leave the parking lot and get away to decide, and turned towards the forest, barefoot, with the van smoking away. He came to a clearing and sat down on a fallen log, thinking the situation over. It was a question of values: friends, or vanity. He had already chosen vanity twice by driving off course and punching one of his band-mates. With it still being the morning, he could hear the faint beautiful song of the lark. He sang back, and terrible as his song of sorrow was, the lark was still incredibly flattered and for a moment thought God himself was serenading her. She landed next to him and asked:

“Oh why are we so sad? Are we feeling hurt by their evil eyes and all those empty words?”

Tuomas sighed, “My friends are dying in a fire, I have no socks, and I am talking to a lark in the forest. I need to decide: friendship or vanity.”

“Well whatever you do,” she advised, “be sure wake up the King in yourself to be mighty and bold.”

“Quote me and you’re dead, bitch.”

Tuomas could only imagine what his peers would think if they knew that some lark was flying around the Finnish woods quoting their material to disturbed people seeking advice. She could sense her presence was not welcome, and left, but not before taking a lock of Tuomas’ hair, presumably for her nest. In desperate need to spill his guts, he took out his notebook and wrote a song for the next album about this turning point in his life. By the time he was finished, his destiny became obvious. His chosen path was for socks, not friends. After he arrived back at the parking lot, he stood and stared at the smoking van for a good long introspective moment. He was certain that he was making the right decision, but couldn’t help but stand there and just ponder the fate of his friends. Were they unconscienceous from inhalation? Were they being incinerated by gas fire? Would Anette be able to sing at the next gig after breathing in all that smoke? It didn’t matter.

It was easy for Tuomas to buy socks. He had had quite a lot of practice talking Pirate to Jukka, and could quite easily make himself understood. He thought that it might be a good idea for him to write his songs in this language, because nobody cares for Finnish lyrics except for those crazy Terasbetoni fanboys, and no one could understand his English anyway. After all, several bands had already made a go of it, so why not he?

He then started back to the van. He regretted his decision, but he had no remorse. What had to be done, had to be done, and he was ready to keep going in his life. He opened the door and had the greatest shock of his life.

Anette was lying on he back on her bunk, head hanging off the edge, arms out as if she was being crucified. Her soft white breasts would rise and fall as she breathed heavily. She seemed to be quite enjoying herself:

“HEHEHEHEHE. OH LOOK AT ME! I’M TUOMAS AND I AM SO SENSITIVE, SHY AND GENUINE. SOMEONE KILL ME SO I CAN BE REBOARRRRN! HEHEHEHEHE”

He looked over to the kitchen. Jukka had taken both of Tuomas’ socks and put one on each of his hands. The two make-shift puppets were having an uninteresting conversation. The left sock was a Nightwish fanfic author, and the right sock was a sane fan; you know? The kind that actually respect the band.

Through the smoke he could barely see Emppu, for he blended in so well with the white haze with his white hair and white skin. He was sitting on the couch, bouncing up and down, singing along to a music video.

“Don’t gimmie no bammer weed. We don’t smoke that shit in the SFC. Don’t gimmie no bammer…” and on it went.

As he beheld the sights before him, he had a sickening realization. They had not set the bus on fire. Far worse: they had smoked his entire personal stash, and they weren’t scheduled to play in Amsterdam or Vancouver for several months!

After the shock wore off, he began to wonder “Where’s Marco.”

Just then he heard a booming voice from the other room.

“OI YOU LITTLE SHIT HEADED GIRLYMAN! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BEER?”

As if the situation wasn’t crazy enough already, Tuomas quickly remembered what he had learned in magical biology: THC has the exact opposite effect on giants.

Chapter 7

As the band leader, Tuomas had had to instil discipline in the other band members before, like when Emppu went through his bedwetting phase and when Marco kept failing to hold his vodka and drowning the venue in vomit. He thought he could deal with a rampaging alcoholic giant, but then he absentmindedly shut the van door behind him. Not realizing what he had done, he was baked out of his mind in seconds, and Marco had become equally enraged.

“Chillax man. Feel the colours of the Canadian west coast.”

“Oh. EVERYONE THINKS IT’S A MOTHERFUCKING JOKE WHEN YOU HIDE MY BEER.”

‘Oh Marco. You giants can’t let loose and have a good time you bloody bastards!”

He was hopeless by this point. In a matter of seconds the van would be obliterated if no one intervened. But then they had another lucky break. Despite the entire band being high, Kimmo from the road crew had been outside the whole time and called the police and fire department. They were not impressed, but not amused either.

“I told you to stop calling us Kimmo. Now I have to fill out all this Goddamn paperwork for coming all the way out here.”

“I swear I didn’t know,” he pleaded with the constable.

“For fuck’s sake this is the fifth fucking time this tour you’ve called us because they hotboxed the bus."

“Tuomas went into the smoke and didn’t come out. I didn’t know what to do.” By now he was in tears, but the policeman wasn’t buying it.

“I would be within my obligation to report you for dangerous driving and drug abuse, but I can’t even be fucking bothered at this point. I’m telling the emergency dispatch to ignore your number. Next time they light a join you can freak out on your own. It really isn’t that big of a deal, you know?”

Marco could see he was outmatched by all the police and firemen/giants.

“You got away with it this time. But when I find that beer, I am going to get so hammered you won’t know who I am.”

As soon as the police left, Kimmo put on his gas mask that he keeps for such occasions –he is a very strong anti-drug activist - and drove the smoking van off down the road to the meet’n’greet. He knew the name of the town, but he was unfamiliar with that particular region of Finland. Unfortunately, he would be unable to call the police from then on and he did not know that his course took them straight through the heart of the most feared and forsaken region of Finland: Fangirlia!

Chapter 8

Kimmo could see through the clear plastic of his gas mask that the road ahead seemed quite quiet. While he was normally concerned for safety, VERY concerned for safety, this did not seem odd to him. In fact itgratified his need for security. No cars to collide with; no highway pirates to raid him; Jukka too high to raid other vehicles. It was the perfect situation for him to be behind the wheel. He could hear Anette reading posts aloud on the Nightwish forum. One user named Calatin made a particularly nasty sounding post in the “Constructive Criticism” topic that read: “Anette is fat and ugly. She needs to lose a few pounds and get a facelift.” Normally such a post would have sent her into tears. Apparently B.C. Bud is really potent, enough to counter the effect of B.C. Assholes, and rather than sulk for the rest of the day she made funny (ugly) faces at everyone else and stuffed her shirt with pillows, laughing all the while. It was quite a merry ride.

While he was driving he noticed a charming old house and thought it would be a good place for them to stop so they could get over the weed.Even if they were a bit late that would still be better than showing up with the entire band high. Tuomas had already gotten really emotional about going sock-less. Baked as he was just would not do. Kimmo carefully parked the bus and led them out into the house. Kimmo is a very trusting person, and knew he could rely on Finnish hospitality.

As they entered they were greeted by an old lady. She seemed quite pleased to see them. Perhaps she was just happy to have visitors.“Why hello there! You look like an interesting bunch. Tell me what brings you here? ”

This was embarrassing for Kimmo to answer, so he decided to be honest:“Uhh… my friends here just hot boxed their tour bus and they need sometime to recover. Mind if we crash here for a few minutes before heading on?”

“Oh that would be wonderful! ” She did not seem to react at all. Maybe the officer was right. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all.

“Well come right this way. I have space for all of you.”

They entered the largest room. There were seven chairs: one for Kimmo, one for each member of the band and one for the old lady. They were all the right size for each member, even Marco who almost always had to get them custom built and professionally reinforced..

“So you must be Nightwish? ” She asked sweetly as she poured a cup of tea.

“Hehehe, yeah that’s us.” Giggled Anette. “You’re a big fan?”

“Oh you could say that. I have been following you for quite some time.You look different from the photos, Tarja.”

This would have been awkward but for the weed. They just figured she had been cut off from the real world, wasting what remains of her life wallowing in fandom.

“Oh, I’m not Tarja. She got fired, didn’t she Tuomas.”

Normally, he was sensitive talking about this issue, but not now:“Yeah. We fired her ass hard. High Five Fellas!”

The old lady seemed intrigued by the self-congratulatory move. Usually the band had pretended to take quite a serious tone discussing the matter.

“Oh really? Tell me about it.”

“Yes, tell us, ” said another very similar voice from behind Marco.

“We are dying to hear it from you, Nightwish, ” said two more behind Captain Jukka.

“Yes. Yeeeeesssssss.” It came from all sides, not as a word, but as a very feline-sounding hiss.


The sweet innocent old ladies had gone. They were now surrounded by several being whom resembled nothing Tuomas had ever imagined, even in his wildest song-fantasies. They looked just like adolescent girls, but had cat-like tails and whiskers. Each one was wearing a colourful knitted sweater and a badge with an icon of the Nightwish owl placed overtop of a book with their name beside.

Tuomas was at first just confused, which is saying something after the day’s most recent events. “Who are you and how much did I smoke in the Fort Bargain-bin parking lot?”

One of the smaller ones answered: “We are the Tearoomers: a secret society that dates back a thousand years. We built this place to celebrate and share our works. It is a refuge. The rest of the world thinks we are backward and perverted. This is the only place we have left ”

As an artist, Tuomas was not initially too creeped out. He knew what it was like to be badgered by critics and kvlt and gr1m metalheads alike for consistently turning out less-than-listenable material. “Oh I see. So this is some fringe art form.”

“You could say that. We would like to share with you what we have done. ”

“Well normally I would love to, but I have to be at a meet’n’greet at Noon and now really isn’t a good-“

They closed in aggressively. They were none too pleased at the indifference shown to them by their favourite band.

“For a thousand years we have been writing fanfiction about Nightwish. Some of it is realistic and some of it is pure fantasty. Within the walls of the tearoom it becomes reality. ”

Though a giant, Marco is no fool and could put two and two thousand together, though he usually needs to think aloud in order to perform such extremely complex intellectual tasks. He is quite smart for a giant: “I’m not sure if you” (he paused for a moment while he tried to come up with a term he could use to describe them “… girls realize this, but we started playing together in 1995. Now I don’t know how to use rocket appliances, but I do have enough intell.. intellect… brain power to know that 2009 minus 1995 does not equal a thousand. In fact, it is at least three times less. Maybe you were looking for the Medieval Babes.”

“SILENCE, ” they shrieked together. “You will not question the ways of the Tearoom., kk?”

Tuomas, still too high to realize the danger he was in, tried to reason with them: “Look I’m really sorry but I have a meet’n’greet up the road from here. Maybe one day I can come back and spend some time here.”

“Don’t you realize? You were meant to come here. It was us who put holes in your socks, despite the temptation to seal them and hold them dear. It was us who lit your stash of weed afire and got everyone high.”

“You lit my weed stash!? You little-“

They hissed, and again he backed down.

“We knew Kimmo didn’t know the region – we know everything about you – and we made sure he would be at the wheel. You fell right into our trap. We were even going to drug the tea we so graciously served you, but let’s just say that after all that weed, the work was already done. ”

By now, Tuomas was a little on edge: “Who are you and what do you want?”

“You need not know my real name,” she said in a haughty tone. “But on the Nightwish forum, I go by the name of NWSavedmylife. ”

This was an awkward moment. The band had stopped posting on the forum since these girls swarmed the concerts and record stores. While they embraced the increased sales and attendance, they had no idea that the fangirls wanted something in return and were serious about taking it.

“As I can clearly see, you have not been reading the forum. Shame on you! You leave us no choice but the following. We will read to you our fanfiction. When we are finished, which should be sometime within the next two million years, you may leave. ”

“Fuck this shit,” exclaimed Marco, who was not too impressed. “We’ve got better things to do than play teenaged girls’ games.”

The Tearoomers became even more irritated. They protracted their claws and hissed aggressively. Emppu was terrified. A small trickle of urine dribbled down his legs as his pants were soaked. Luckily they were leather so no one noticed. Emppu was always careful to hide his lack of control over a situation. The Tearoomers seemed to be enjoying their new-found controlling power over their favourite band.

“No further objections?” asked the Tearoomer known as NWSavedmylife in her usual girlish pretentious tone. “Great. I will take the pleasure of starting.”

She pulled a book from a pink knit satchel. Judging by the look of it she had spent quite some time writing.

“Ahem ahem. Shatterpoint: Chapter 1: Tuomas walked into the rehearsal studio.."

Even with the B.C. Weed, to listen was pure agony, for no one more so than Tuomas. Not because of the poor writing style, flat and boring characters, and stories that go nowhere. No. He was all too familiar with this writing style. Far worse: these Tearoomers had the nerve, the audacity to even acknowledge, let alone write stories about, the other members of Nightwish. It went on and on, repeating itself like a broken record as story after story was told. Then a pause.

“Ahem ahem. That was chapter 1. Did you like it? ” asked the one known as NWSavedmylife?

Before anyone could answer, they heard a faint noise. Not a cry; not a whimper; a quite but aggressive “yaaarg!” Captain Jukka had just woken up from a short nap. The Tearoomers were not pleased, but now they were not unopposed. During the nap, the high had worn off. Jukka was sober, and ready for vengeance.

Chapter 9

Jukka leapt up and spoke: “So ye wild water cats, ye thought you could trick Captain Jukka? Well yer quite clever ye see. But I’ll teach ye a thing or two about the Seven Seas. We follow a code of honour, ye see? Ye can lie, cheat, steal, but ye can never EVER get a man high on his own stash! That crosses a forbidden line somewhere between the Straits and the edge of the Earth. Aunt that the truth, boys?”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” said the other members of Nightwish, who were quite enjoying the theatrical standoff between the Pirate of the Sea and the secret society of half-girls-half-cat who adored them to the point of insanity.

Jukka resumed: “Normally I could have cut a deal with ye, but yer word: what’s it worth? Parrot shit! That’s what. This can only be settled one way.”

The Tearoomers had no qualms fighting Jukka. Knowing everything about the band dating back a thousand years, they knew he was unimportant and could be replaced on a whim once the pirate gimmick had worn off. They stood for a few seconds, brandishing their claws, their eyes narrowed.

“Do no deny your purpose, Jukka-“

“That’s CAPTAIN Jukka ye scallywags-“

And then they were upon him. They scratched and clawed every which way. But for every move the Tearoomers made Jukka was at least one ahead, like a Russian Chess Grandmaster. As a drummer he not only has the gift of speed but also timing. Fragments of claw, hair, fat and cat flew all around them.

Normally Tuomas would have run off and left his friends to their own devices. But not now. He was still high on weed and no one who is high on weed can turn away from a pirate-versus- half-fangirls-half-cat deathmatch. Not only him, but the rest of the band sat there and cheered when he made a made a good move.

After about five minutes of frenzy, the rest of the band got bored. By this time, even Jukka had bee scratched up quite a lot. They all ran towards the bus, except Marco. He has a very limited focus, and was too distracted by the fight to realize that everyone else was going for the tourbus. Even as the entire party, even Jukka and the trailing Tearoomers, was leaving, he still sat there and watched.

The band ran into the bus and slammed the door. The Tearoomers followed, yowling and biting and scratching at the steel walls. The band could hear them crawling over and under and on the sides. It was quite terrifying. After a minute or so they all left. “What a relief,” they all thought. Tuomas went to HI-5 everyone in celebration.

“HI-5, Anette!”

“HI-5!”

“HI-5 Emppu”

“HI-5”

“HI-5, Jukka”

“That’s Captain Jukka, ye scallywag.”

“HI-5, Marco”

But there was no one there. Only after an incomplete round of HI-5s did the band realize that Marco had stayed behind in the Tearoom, and the Tearoomers had since gone back.

* * *

The Tearoomers went back to the Tearoom, frustrated. This had been their best ever chance to trap the band. They could be certain they would never venture thought Fangirlia again. But then their mood brightened. As they entered the room, the saw a very large giant with long hair and a long funny beard. He spoke:

“Why hello there. You girls just missed a really good fight. I would upload it to youtube but my brain cells aren’t fortiretarded enough in an applicabletory way like such as is requiremented for something extremecremently smart like that. Maybe Tuomas can help.”

The girls smiled and protracted their claws. The giant was horrified.

Chapter 10

Tuomas was in anguish. He had already written material with Marco’s vocals in mind, and did not want to start writing it out just yet. Though he appears in the music infrequently, Marco is the only way he can manifest the more masculine side of his soul when it decides to pop up every now and then. If the Tearoomers chose to skin him alive, there might not be anything left down there to put on stage.

“We’ve got to save him!” said Tuomas in a worried tone.

“Ah matey, ye never cared for anyone else. Why be Marco so important to yeh?”

“He’s not like you. He actually does something for this band. Can’t you people see? We have got to save him.” He was becoming more agitated every moment that passed.

Anette by this time was not impressed: “Am I hearing you correctly? First you tell me we are all temporary, and now you want us to risk our lives to save a band member-“ but Tuomas interrupted.

“We get him back or you’re all fired!”

They had no choice but to shut up and oblige. They knew Tuomas was the boss and he meant business. It is a little known fact that Tarja was actually fired because she could not agree on which daytime soap operas they should watch. There is room for only one drama queen in Nightwish.

“Alright, so here is how it’s going to work. I will create the plan, tell you guys exactly what to do, and then just do some bullshit in the background even though everyone is looking at me.”

The band nodded. They were all too familiar with this routine.

“Alright Anette. You go up the window and sing. Sing one line from a Tarja song exactly like Tarja would, and then sing one line from a Dark Passion Play song as you did on the album.”

Anette was confused: “Alright, but how will that help?”

“Nightwish didn’t get to where we are today by people asking questions-“

“No,” said Emppu. “We got here today because those pesky Tearoomers lit your weed stash and we had to put Kimmo behind the wheel.”

Tuomas glared for a painful second and then continued: “When I say “now,” you two run inside and save Marco. Jukka, you should be able to cut him free with your pirate cutlass. Check with your binoculars to see where the Tearoomers are and where Marco is.”

He examined for a second and exclaimed: “Them wild water cats are at the North coast. Marco be towards the south on the starboard side.”

Tuomas, as a master at using other members’ ideas and findings, motioned for Anette to go to the appropriate window of the room next to where the Tearoomers were. It was crucial that they not actually see her. She approached the open window and began:

“Baptized with a perfect name / the doubting one by heart / alone without himself”

The Tearoomers were hypnotized, just as they were every time they heard her voice. Anette looked back at Tuomas, who gave her the thumbs-up, and tried a Tarja song.

“Once there was a child’s dream / one night the clock struck twelve / the window open wide.”

The Tearoomers looked at each other, confused. Why on Earth would Tarja be here? Twice more Anette sang contrasting lines. It was becoming more and more aggravating. The plan was working.

“Uhh, Tearoomers. What’s going on?” One said.

“Isn’t it obvious? Tarja and Anette are competing for our love,” said another as the serenade continued.

“Well Tara’s got my vote. That pop slut Anette can go to Hell.”

“You can go to Hell, bitch.”

Tuomas could hear everything from outside the tourbus. His symphony was playing in perfect harmony, just like a dozen cats fighting over a mate.

“Hey hey,” said one who was trying to diffuse the situation. “The Tarja/Anette debate is getting old now. Besides, they’re both outside the Teahouse. What more do you girls want ?”

“Shut up you fat cow or you will end up like Tarja when I am finished with her!”

Tuomas had not felt this excited since he stole Emppu’s material for Whoever Brings the Night. He signalled for Anette to do the grand finale.

“NEMO MY NAME FOEVER!”

It came out awful. It even shocked the socks off of Tuomas who was all too familiar with really bad vocal performances. The Tearoomers, normally an emotional bunch, stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction of the singing. Anette looked back at Tuomas desperately. No one knew what to make of the situation.

No one was more puzzled than the Tearoomers. What would make Tarja drop a line like that? Did she have a sore throat? Was she nervous about singing to her biggest fans? Did Anette shove a sock down her throat, or had one of the Fanette Tearoomers gotten to her first? There was only one way to find out. One of the girls approached cautiously and looked out the window.

No Tarja in sight. Only one frightened-looking Anette and Tuomas in the background.

“Aha! I see what’s happened. You killed Tarja and then though you would make a mockery of her, you slimy whore.”

Anette stumbled back terrified. The one Tearoomer stared at her with an emotion of hatred and glee.

“NOOOOOO! NOT TARJA”

Marco had until this point simply been enjoying the commotion, until he heard that. He cared little for anyone else in the band, but if anyone even looked at Tarja the wrong way he would always react. He ripped his chains from the wall and rampaged through the teahouse, running through walls and knocking over statues of the band that had been so carefully and lovingly sculpted. Emppu and Jukka chased after him, pleading for him to see what was going on.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO TARJA? WHAT DID YOU LITTLE BITCHES DO TO HER?”

Everyone looked stunned. Just when they thought the situation could not possibly get any weirder, an angry giant wrecked up the Teahouse looking for answers about a murder that never occurred.

Emppu and Jukka caught up, out of breath, and explained:

“Marco, Marco, calm down. No one is dead. Anette only pretended to be Tarja so that the Tearoomers would think Tarja and Anette would compete for their love-“

Emppu had said too much. The Tearoomers did not like this at all. “Emppu, shut up. To the bus everyone!” shouted Tuomas from afar. He had already started the engine. Marco grabbed Anette, Jukka and Emppu and held them high so the girls couldn’t take them back. They gave chase. Closer and closer did they gain. It was a suspenseful moment. Would Tuomas decide to save himself and leave his friends to die?

The bus door was open, but he was pulling away. Marco tossed the other three members through and they clambered up the steps to safety. He kept running until he was with arms reach, grabbed onto the back bumper and dug his heels into the road.

Tuomas looked out: “I get it Marco. You want to come with us. Get in then!”

Marco ran around to the side and jumped in the open door. The tourbus sped off down the highway. What an escape!

The Tearoomers were experiencing all kinds of emotions over the past situation. In ten minutes they had captured their favourite band, read them a chapter of fanfic, not gained their approval, fought with the most useless member, let all but one escape, been duped into thinking that Tarja and Anette were serenading them, been duped into thinking Anette murdered Tarja, and then let Marco, the last one in the teahouse, escape without opposition. Normally a proud group, they were not pleased with themselves.

“What’d did I miss?” Kimmo had just woken up from a quick nap. He would have to do.

“AAAAAAAH NOT MY FACE!”

Chapter 11

Long trips with Jukka are always annoying, at the very least. Once he realized for the hundredth time that the tour bus was not a pirate ship and indeed had no sails for him to man, nor a crow’s nest for him to spy from, he began to propose his song ideas to Tuomas. Tuomas had earlier mentioned that there was a reason they consistently left Jukka out of the song-writing process. After ten minutes with him it becomes clear to anyone why this is the case.



“Yarrrrr Maytie. I got me some great ideas for the next album.”



“Jukka, this isn’t really a good time.”



“Oh! Oh! Listen to this,” he said excitedly and cleared his throat.



“When I go a sailin / I’m cruisin when its gailing / Sextent not be needed / Cause I got me wenches”



He looked at Tuomas. Tuomas shook his head.



“Alright then. How about this?” He asked. Again he cleared his throat.



“Over all the Seven Seas / Everything always pleases me / I dock my ship with my mayties / Take some booty / from the loot-”



“No!” Tuomas interrupted. “Can we do this later?”



“It’s always later, isn’t it?” Said Jukka angrily. “Everyone else be writing songs for Nightwish. Why not me?”



Tuomas didn’t respond, so Jukka started in again:



“When the day is over / I like to ease my mind / crack a grog open”



Tuomas interrupted again, increasingly frustrated. “If you want to write songs you at least have to have some original material.”



“Oh is that so? You been rippin off every great poet there is, lootin their stash and foolin the fans into thinking its yours. What you got to say to that, eh?”



Tuomas could not think of a response. The Captain went on:



“Aye men! / Ram her timbers hard! / Penetrate the Hull! Let the sea-”



“SHUT UP” shouted Marco. He said what everyone was else was thinking. “Jukka, your material isn’t masterly materials and can’t be used because me and Emppu and Tuomas can compository songs that are good enough for the recorder company. Understand?”



Jukka turned away and went to his bunk to pout quietly. Tuomas took out a notepad and quickly, yet discretely, wrote down everything Jukka had sung. Little did anyone know of his future pirate metal side project.



Tuomas continued to drive in silence. After a few miles were behind them he saw a sign in the distance.



“What does that sign say?” Asked Tuomas.



“It says…. ‘Turn here for a shortcut. No this is not some kind of trap’” Replied Emppu, suspiciously.



“Well I know a trustworthy sign when I see one,” said Tuomas as he turned without hesitation.



Emppu looked at Marco and Anette, with an expression of alarm and desperation. They knew immediately, but also that there was nothing that could be done. Tuomas was behind the wheel, bitch!



The road only went one way, with no turns or intersections. Eventually they came to a long, straight strip. At the end Tuomas could make out a building. It quite wide, but because they were facing it head-on they could not tell just how far it went. As they approached they could see it was quite grand and imposing. It was all black, like Tuomas’ soul during a losing poker match. They finally arrived at the entrance and left the bus. They stood for a moment affront the building. At the top of the archway there was sign. It read “#Nightwish.” They were not puzzled at all. By now they had certainly realized they were deep in the heart of Fangirlia.



The band entered the arch into a large hall-like room, quite wide, but much, much longer. At the end they could see a large sealed gate and at the top a black screen of glass. At the sides there were other smaller black screens, framed by plain black plastic. It was quite dark, except for the small specks of light from the windows near the ceiling, almost like stars they were so distant. Tuomas nodded. The rest knew what to do.



As they approached, the black iron gate came into clearer view. It was made of bars, ornately decorated with sculptures of dragons, some sleeping, some in mid-flight, and some merely awake and aware; some calm, some enraged. At the top there was a sign with gothic letters of black iron welded into a stone white background: “Dragonbot.”



For a moment they stood in awe, not knowing what to make of their new surroundings. Tuomas spoke:



“It’s… it’s… beautiful.”



This is the highest praise anyone or anything can receive. Tuomas is very vain and refuses to compliment anything for fear that it may be thought of as equal to his own creations.



Anette was speechless. She reached out to touch the cold, dead metal, but Emppu quickly grabbed her hand.



“Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” he warned. “We will just have to wait until she wakes.”



Just as he said that they heard a faint yet definitive click from the depths of the gate and beyond. It quickly removed them from their hypnotic state, but still they were mesmerized. Then another. Then another. Then again, and again, more rapidly than before. Eventually it became more like one single note. The ground started to shake and the walls trembled as the tone became a rumble. The band took a few steps as the quake intensified. Louder and louder it became. They could hear nothing but the noise; it was like a Manowar concert without the manliness or fun.



The gate swung open and behind it sat a large black metal dragon, just like the ones on the bars, with all its details outlined in dull silver. It was very imposing, standing before the five of them. They also noticed that all of the screens had lit up and were displaying computer text. Jukka pointed to the one atop the Dragonbot. It read:



TheLandLubbinCaptain (Julius_Neval@Dragonbotslair) has joined #Nightwish

Replacement_Heretic (Anette_Olzon@Dragonbotslair) has Joined #Nightwish

TheDrunkGiant (Marco_Hietala@Dragonbotslair) has Joined #Nightwish

HobbitVuorinen (Erno_Vouri@Dragonbotslair) has Joined #Nightwish

WhineyMcFancyPants (Tuomas_Holop@Dragonbotslair) has Joined #Nightwish



Each other screen displayed another name. The Dragonbot moved its head, and inspected each of them individually. It became apparent that there was no immediate danger. Tuomas spoke:



“I am not WhineyMcFancyPants. I am Oceansoul.”



Dragonbot glowed for a brief second. Then it appeared on the screen:



“WhineyMcFancyPants is now known as SpongebobSquarepants”



The other four laughed. Tuomas gave them a dirty look, then sighed. He is so much better than everyone else.



“Look here you metal monstrosity,” he said angrily, “What do we have to do to get out of here?”



The Dragobot stared back. No response.



“Tell me!” said Tuomas.



Nothing.



“Tell me!”



Nothing.



“Tell me!” he said in a nicer more conciliatory tone.



Again, Nothing.



“TELL ME!” He shouted in despair, with tears in his eyes.



The Dragonbot roared. It reared, revealing two large feet. With one it booted Tuomas. He flew for a distance and then slid towards the archway and disappeared. The other four watched this happen, then looked at the Dragonbot. Emppu noticed the screen



SpongebobSquarepants was booted from #Nightwish by DRAGONBOT (Stop repeating yourself!)



“Tuomas?!” They shouted, in anguish. “Tuomas?!”



After a mere few seconds, he came walking back in. Jukka showed him the screen.



“Alright gang. We will have to figure out what we need to know without talking. Marco, I know you only know twenty phrases but can you change them up a bit?”



Marco was offended: “I have no don’t fear the Dragon. Look.”



He faced the Dragonbot. It stared back, emotionless. Marco began:

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”



He turned to his friends, smiling.



“See? Nothing to fea-“



Before he could finish he was flying towards the door. He landed with a crash and slid outside. He quickly stormed back in, red in the face.



“What was that for, blackie?” He demaded.



As if on cue, the screen above Dragonbot displayed the same message:



TheDrunkGiant was booted from #Nightwish by DRAGONBOT (Stop repeating yourself!)



Marco was enraged, but still determined to show the Dragonbot that he could withstand more than it could give him. He does not give up easily. He began again:



“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”



He stood there and smiled, satisfied. Again, the Dragonbot reared, lifted its foot and kicked Marco. This time it missed slightly, and instead of flying straight, he spun several times before finally exiting the long room. He soon came back in. It was obvious he was quite sick from all the cartwheels and flips he had done. He stumbled up to the Dragonbot and spoke.



“Hey that wasn’t ver-BLAAAAAAGH”



Before he could finish, the giant vomited all over the floor in front of the Dragonbot. He tried again.



“What I meant to say was- BLAAAAAAGH”



Again, he could not control his sickness. He tried twice more, and the same happened. The ground was becoming covered with watery giant-vomit.



“Look here- BLAAAAAAGH”



The Dragonbot had had enough. It reared and kicked Marco again, and he flew out the open door. Bouncing along the way, splashing in large pools of vomit.



Tuomas looked to the Dragonbot. “What was that for?” He demanded.



TheDrunkGiant was booted from #Nightwish by DRAGONBOT (Stop flooding!)



They stood there for a moment in disbelief. What were they to do with such an adversary in their way; in between Tuomas and his meet’n’greet?

***

Marco stood outside, frustrated. As he collected his wits, he began to wonder, with his giant’s curiosity, what was on the other side of this building. To find out, he leapt atop the tour bus and then atop the building and started running to the end. Though his train of thought had taken a completely different turn, little did he know he was well on the way to solving the Dragonbot riddle.

***

The remaining band members stood there for quite a time. Never did it occur to Tuomas to turn the bus around and take the normal route. He could never be wrong about anything, and certainly if his chosen path led to a giant metal dragon blocking his way, there must be a way through or he would never have confronted it. For a moment he thought he could hear faint footsteps on the roof, but cared little, for he was in problem-solving mode.



“Out of the way. I’ve got places to go and people to see.”



Nothing.



“Move!”



Nothing.



“Please move”



Nothing.



“Alright then,” he said with an expression of confidence and insanity. “I call upon almight God to strike down this mechanical monstrosity, this… abomination!, for only I may call upon HIM for such favors as only I am the truly righteous!”



BANG! This seemed to have an effect. The Dragonbot trembled, and looked behind itself alarmed. BANG! Again something was happening. Tuomas was gleeful. God had answered his prayers and unleashed His mighty wrath upon the Dragonbot. BANG! BANG! BANG! Again and again. Tuomas was ecstatic. Then they could hear an awful scraping. Dragonbot was moving backwards. Eventually they could see clear daylight as the dragon slid backwards, apparently dead, and moved aside. Clear as day was the silhouette of the giant, standing with his arms folded, smiling.



“THANK YOU GOD!” shouted Tuomas, gleefully, to the sky. “I KNEW YOU WOULD COME THROUGH. YOUR BACKSTAGE PASS FOR HARTWALL IS IN THE MAIL. I CAN’T THANK YOU AND YOUR ANGELS ENOUGH. Oh hi Marco. You missed the most fantastic display of divine power but don’t worry. He’s coming to Hartwall so you can see some of it there.”



Marco smiled. He knew better than to tell Tuomas that it was he who cleared the way, just as parents know better than to tell their children that it’s Viking-hamster that deliver their Christmas presents, not Santa Clause.



“Well what do you say, gang?” Asked Tuomas, happily. “Should we finally get going to my meet’n’greet so I can meet with my fans.”



They all cheered “Horray!” and started towards the bus. The room appeared quite nice with sunlight shining through it. Together they walked, through broken stone and giant-vomit.



They all piled into the tour bus, except Marco, who stood for a moment. Emppu spoke:

“Marco, we’re ready to go. What’s wrong?”



Marco turned towards Emppu, with an expression of anger and sadness.


“Marco. Want. SHINY!”



Oh no. Tuomas had just remembered. Marco had to see a shiny thing every day in order for him to keep his giant’s temper. There was only one place to go now to satiate his shinylust: the Fangirlia Museum.

Chapter 12

So they went: speeding down the highway towards the Museum. This would be the longest trip of Tuomas’ life. He hoped there would be no delays. Unfortunately, there had just been a murder in the area, and when murders occur the authorities usually tend to try to find out what happened. Lo and behold, Tuomas could see police up ahead. They had set up a roadblock. As soon as he approached, the policeman waved them to the shoulder of the road. Tuomas rolled down the window.


“Excuse me officer, but is there a problem?”

“Oh look it’s Tuomas from Nightwish. Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble,” he said, as he could see Tuomas was worried. “We know exactly what happened in the Tearoom. I stopped you because there’s been a murder.”

“Oh really?” asked Tuomas.

“Yes.” He said. “Dragonbot was found dead. She had been dragged outside and unplugged. She died of lack of electricity in a matter of minutes after her disconnect. Do you know anything about it?”

“Oh yes,” he answered. “In fact I saw it happen.”

“Oh great! So did you see who did it?”

“Indeed I did,” Tuomas replied indignantly. “God did it, and I asked Him to!”

This certainly made the police uncomfortable. Tuomas had just confessed to being an associate to a murder, though he was almost certainly lying.



“Sir, you mean to tell us that you asked God to kill Dragonbot and he obliged?”



“Yes. If you need to ask him any questions, he will be at my Hartwall show backstage. Now can I please get on my way?”



The officers looked at each other and nodded. Tuomas started the bus and continued.



Marco was becoming increasingly anxious as they sped down the highway. They needed a way to distract the giant. But how?



“Hey Marco,” said Emppu. “You know we have mod powers on the Nightwish forum?”



“Oh is that so then?”



“Yes”



“Well if it’s got power, then I’m there! Giants always need MOAR POWER! Now where is that computador?”



The two of them sat down at the small desk. Long road trips are boring and without weed the two had to find new ways to amuse themselves.



Marco cleared his throat, ready. He really is the creative type: "Every forum member is requiremented to remember that Dragonbot is made of steel, not of clay. Failz to do so will result in the offendermaker being thrust into Dragonbot's lair to fend for him/herself.” Macro smiled, quite pleased with himself. “They will be terrified, then realize that I did the work for them. Too bad they’re stranded in the middle of Fangirlia!”



Emppu giggled. “That won’t be an issue then. They are ALL stranded in the middle of Fangirlia. Oh I have a good one: Drunk posts are strictly forbidden. Don’t be such a loser and drink with some real people for God’s sake!”



Marco laughed heartily. He never drinks alone. Even if he’s forced to go to the drunk tank he always finds friends to party with. When he was finished he had yet another great idea: “It is absolutie requiremented that your profile page picture is actually a picture of you. No pretty things allowed!”



The two of them laughed together, then Emppu stopped suddenly. “But Marco, that’s already a rule. See?” Emppu pointed to the screen.



Marco looked closely and read it, which took him a moment because he is not a good reader. “Why so it is! Ok then. I find these photo reguquirements to be unsufficeing so I will make an addjustmentment to them.” Macro cleared his throat, signalling to Emppu to listen and type. “All profile pictures must be biometrics enabled regulation passport size photos. If not then any forum meet-ups will not be done in accordance with regulations and must be aborted, regardless of time. Failure to comply will be grounds for an immediate ban, without warning. We can’t have innocent forum members meeting with the wrong person who just so happens to look exactly the same, and happens to be in the same place at the agreed-upon time.”



“Yeah. That happens all the time. This one’s important: Xenophobic posts are strictly forbidden. Little Green Men can listen to Nightwish too.”



“Yeah. We’re from Finland so we understand that,” said Marco, who was still under the impression that Finns are descended from the Men from Mars, even though it’s been scientifically proven that they are from another galaxy entirely.



“Ooh, ooh!” Emppu was excited. “Keep your discussions in the band member’s threads respectful. For God’s sake I’m 5’3”. I can’t do those positions! I mean I’m flattered and all but have a little decency people…”



Everyone, even Tuomas, had to laugh. One would have to be dead indeed not to.



“Alright a serious one.” Emppu was in a brainy mood. “For whom it may concern, the light that comes from the moon is really a reflection of the light from the sun. If you’re seeking the moonlight, it doesn’t exist. I saw some concern about this and I just wanted to clear that up.”



“Oh, speaking of which, I must clarify this. Marco is not a Viking. He is a giant, and don’t you forget it, bitch!” Marco is quite passionate about his specie, and does not like for it to be mistaken.



“This one has to go on the forum.” Anette had until then been silent in the discussion. “Posting copyrighted material is fully permissible with one exception: videos that make my but look big. Anyone who breaks this rule has 24 hours to redeem him/herself by posting any picture of Tarja, because you don’t need a house of mirrors to make her look like a Jerry Springer guest.”



“Alright, alright.” Marco cleared his throat again. “If you want to post erotic stories about us that’s cool, but please leave our associates out of it. You know I don’t even like my mother-in-law but do you really think I’m pleased by the image of her in a dungeon crucified with my bass shoved up her-“



“WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP AND GET OFF THE FORUM?” Tuomas shouted, annoyed, as he drove. “Remember what happened last time we posted on it?”



Emppu nodded. He still had two vampire fangs lodged in his thigh. The two of them decided to leave the forum and look for some Jackass re-runs instead, but not before clicking “save changes.” For several moments they drove in peace and then



“LAND HO! We be disembarking soon.”



Sure enough, the Fangirlia museum was approaching on the horizon. Jukka measured with his navigational devices and calculated that at the current speed they should arrive in five minutes. Marco could sense their approach and was getting increasingly excited. The wait was almost over. In less than five minutes: SHINY!

Chapter 13

They rolled to a stop at the local museum. Tuomas knew they didn’t have much time, but Marco has a special affinity for shiny things, and he had already gone 20 hours without seeing one. Unfortunately they are the only thing that can calm him down after smoking weed and this was the only place where they could undoubtedly find some. As they entered there was no receptionist at the front desk. There was not a soul in sight. No matter. They just walked in. The monthly exhibit was on the French First Waffen SS Division, who enlisted in the German Nazi military after the conquest of France. It was a sobering reminder for the Nightwish realm that anyone, even the French, can descent into tyranny under some circumstances.

The museum use to be an old gothic cathedral. To this day it still has soaring spires and tall narrow windows. Everyone in the band simply stood there in the corridor amongst the glass cases and pedestals. Except Marco. He had never seen so many artefacts at once, and he did not know how to react. At first he was stunned, but not in a sobering way like the rest of the band. Then he exploded with joy and excitement. As a giant he already too up more space in the corridor than normal. When he started running wildly up and down the ground began to quake and the walls began to shake. The giant could not contain himself.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Shouted a voice from another room.

“Sorry.” Shouted Tuomas. “My friend here needs to look at shiny things to calm down.”

A lady with long blonde hair ran in. “Greetings to the Museum. I am, the curator,” she said. “Sir,” she addressed Marco, “if you must run around and wreck up the place, then please go over there,” she said, while motioning towards the Western modern art section. The giant didn’t object. As soon as he was through the door, she slammed it shut. She turned to the rest of the band.

“So… what brings such an odd group of people here? No one ever visits.”

This was embarrassing, even with the lasting effects of the weed.

“Our friend Marco wanted to see shiny things… I hope you understand.”

She sighed. “Since this place was constructed as a Church, giants have made the pilgrimage from all over Lapland to see shiny things. For centuries we have endured looting and grave robbing. Luckily it’s fairly easy to stop them (she glanced at the door. Marco was just beginning to figure out what had happened and was pounding away) so long as someone is here. Though strong, they’re no match for a quick-witted curator.

“So does it get lonely out here in the middle of Fangirlia?”

“No not at all. Sometimes I get up to two visitors per week. It can be quite exciting hearing the stories of travellers from afar. Though experienced, many have never seen such horror that bestows this region.”

“Yeah.” Agreed Tuomas. “Our roadie Kimmo took us through here. Oh speaking of which, has anyone seen Kimmo?”

“Not since we left the teahouse.” Said Emppu. “But I do remember him falling asleep briefly.”

They stood for a moment in silence.

“HEY. Let me OUT OF HERE!” Marco had been searching for the door for several minutes. After he said that he began to ram his head into the side of the wall after a running start. He attempted this a few times to no avail.

“Oh no! This again.” She ran towards the wall, but it was too late. On his final attempt, Marco had finally broken through. His head had punched a hole in the most opportune spot on the wall: through the face of Venus in Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, which had been on loan to the Fangirlia Museum! The curator let him out. She had a new idea.

“So what’s the special exhibit this season?” Tuomas is always on the lookout of others’ artistic ideas to inspire and outright plagiarize.

“It’s right over here. It’s quite the little charmer. I find it to be completely adorable. It’s pompous and arrogant but it can be really funny at the same time. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Tuomas had at first been excited, but then grew worried when she said “can be really funny…” Why could this mystery artist be? Who had mastered all that he had, plus humour?

She led them to the very front of the museum. In the very spot where the altar used to be there stood a white Romanesque pedestal. On it sat a bright pink cube with a golden symbol of a joker’s face. It had a very mischievous expression. Sticking out of its nose on one side was a crank and handle. A Jack-in-the-box it was!

Emppu observed for a moment then spoke: “I know that logo from somewhere! Tell me: what is this mysterious wonder?”

“Unfortunately nobody can be told what the exhibit is. You have to see it for yourself.”

For a moment the band was taken aback at the cryptic nature of the exhibit, but soon enough decided that it was probably quite safe. They had survived the Tearoom already, so what further harm could possibly befall them?

She looked at them closely. “I can tell you’ve decided. Everyone join hands. You too Whiney McFancypants.” Somehow the joke had circulated out of Dragonbot’s lair. Then she looked straight at Emppu. He blushed at her blue eyes met his. “Today is your lucky day mister. Turn the crank and see how far Mr Hopkins takes you.”

Emppu giggled excited, and began. Normal Jacks-in-the-box chime a familiar tune. This one did too though not a children’s tune. No. Something quite different. As he turned the music intensified. Faster and stronger it became. As he continued he could hear more and more different instruments joining in. Then the music filled their ears and the museum started to fade to white. They were rushing through a void of space, time and sound; the sound of the same tune. Then without warning, a familiar voice:

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE FREAKSHOW!”

Then the five of them remembered the familiar tune and what it was called: MYSTERIA!

They flew through the white for several seconds. Once the world stopped spinning they found themselves in a room full of the most beautiful paintings they had ever seen. In the background was a song.

“So… we’ve figured out the mysterious artist.” Emppu likes to state the obvious.

“Yes we have that snivelling little shit. How does he get this and not me?” asked Tuomas, not realizing that his jack-in-the-box was currently on loan to the Royal British Museum.

“The song is… beautiful,” said Anette, now almost breathless. “It makes me want to laugh, cry, and dance, even though it’s a slow song.”

Tuomas gave her a dirty look, extremely jealous of her admiration. She knew she had tread on the beast’s tail.

They walked through the gallery, in awe at the multitude of paintings and their extensive variety. Then the song began to fade, and the walls began to melt to white. The scene was changing. Just as soon as the rooms had become one shade they began to fill with colour. Soon enough they found themselves in a commercial airplane. A new song had begin; a fast, upbeat, carefree tune.

While everyone was in awe, Marco was completely confused. “What happen? Where cathedralmuseum go?”

Anette tried in vain. “Marco calm down. It’s the exhibit-“

“This is so compuzzling! What in fucktopia is happening?”

“Marco, just cover your eyes and count to ten. Everything will change.”

“GET! MUSEUM! BACK! NOW!” He pounded the wall of the airplane as the plane flew and the theatrical presentation identical to the music video continued.

Emppu took no notice of Marco. He had taken an empty seat and was laughing at the exhibit. It was just as if they had been cast as extras. “Oh my God Tuomas! Why can’t we make music videos like this?”

“Because, Emppu, we are a band that is serious business. No sex in airplane washrooms for us.”

“No. Just in graves, and in dreams... Oh and on ships! Nothing as pervy as an airplane, God forbid!”

Marco could take it no longer. He would get out of the exhibit one way or another.

* * *

Alone again, the curator browsed the Nightwish forum. She read aloud. “‘…low self-esteem. There is already enough of that in the Nightwish realm.’ Well ain’t that the goddamn truth.” With one hand she lifted her short skirt exposing her thigh. With the other she took a knife. “Hmm. I always wanted a star.” Then she heard a noise.

The box began to shake on its pedestal. Tobias Sammet’s Dreamland exhibit was about to close permanently!

Chapter 14

It began as a gentle rattle, and gradually intensified until the entire pedestal began to quake. The box could no longer take the strain of the giant’s might. It burst into a thousand shards, sending a crack down the center of the pedestal. The five of them came flying out. The curator took no notice. She sat there, tears streaming down her face, with the knife in her trembling but firm grasp. She could take the pain no longer.

“Hey, what’s the deal with- OH MY GOD!” Tuomas looked at her in shock and disgust. She looked back, embarrassed. He paced up and down the corridor. “Sick, sick, sick, SICK! Not that, not that!”

Anette walked over to her, and offered a comforting hand. She looked at Tuomas in scorn. “Calm down asshole. She is clearly quite troubled by her life alone in the mists of Fangirlia. Aren’t you?” she asked as she turned to her.

“I don’t care. This is Nightwish. Save your knife fetishes for when Cannibal Corpse rolls though. You can re-enact their songs then. In the mean-time we have to leave. Captain, are we good to go?”

He didn’t answer and he didn’t need to. Both of his pockets were spilling with spoils of loot. Lots and lots of shinies! Jukka’s piratey instincts had come in handy. The four men started towards the exit. Just as they were about to step outside, Tuomas turned back. “Anette, come on.” He whined.

She looked into the curator’s eyes one last time. “Sorry, but it is time.”

She stood and turned to the door. Once the curator realized what was truly happening she realized how quickly her dream was fading. “No…” she whispered.

Anette kept walking. Did she dare to look back? She stepped outside, turned and waved.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

“Close it! Quick!”

Anette slammed the door just as the lonesome curator reached it, crashing against the oaken boards. They ran to the bus before she could find another exit.

“Marco, have you seen enough shiny?”

He said nothing, dazed and blinded by his hedonistic gorging of eyecandy. He was completely pacified.

“Well glad that adventure’s over.” And with that he drove off.

Organizing a road trip is amongst the most difficult part of being in a band. Despite being the leader of the band, Tuomas often delegated his tasks to others so that he could focus on more important things, like manicures and his designer wardrobe. On this one particular leg of the tour he would regret this indifference.

The tour bus was definitely below Nightwish standard. It did not have leather upholstery or exotic Persian rugs, and since there was only room for the band and a couple crew members he could not bring along his personal French maid, chef or masseuse. But even the bus that was the most devoid of sufficient luxury can still facilitate a good Nightwish concert and a flattering image of Tuomas for the fangirls.

This bus could not do even the simplest job of going from one town to the next. It needed minor adjustments just to make short trips to the bar or smoke shop. They knew they were pressing their luck taking it on the road and now their luck was running out.

Anette was first to notice. “Umm Tuomas, there’s purple smoke coming from the exhaust.”

“Goddamn it Anette! Have you forgotten I have to meet with the fans?”

“and I can hear banging from inside the gas tank…”

“That’s just the gnomes. Once the gas levels get low you can hear them pumping away. How else to you think it gets to the engine. Please let me concentrate!” Tuomas has some funny ideas about automotive technology.

“Oh look. The muffler just fell off!” Shouted Anette over the terrible roar of the engine.

“GODDAMNIT SHUT UP! GIRLS DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT CARS!” Shouted Tuomas, frustrated. He did not like to be doubted. Not at all.

Though Tuomas can live in denial, the gnomes and sylphs and fairies and other magical creatures that seem to drive every car that Tuomas ride in decided to give him a wake up call. The bus began to stall and eventually quit altogether.

He sighed. “Anette, what did I tell you about doubting?”

“Doubting? I’m right, as usual.”

“Every time you doubt the gnomes, sylphs and fairies they quit working. Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Because they get insulted at your lack of faith. That’s why. Can’t you just accept that?”

She went to the back of the bus and pouted, frustrated. Tuomas always had to take the fantastical perspective.

He walked outside and leaned against the side of the bus. Since the emergency dispatch was ignoring them they would have to rely on the kindness of strangers on the highway in southern Fangirlia. What could possibly go wrong?

He could see a car coming over the horizon. At last! He had been waiting in the cold tundra for an eternal fifteen seconds. He jumped about and waved like a maniac. The car passed, without even acknowledging the stranded one. Another appeared, and passed just as the last. Then another. Then another. Tuomas was fuming. Why would no one heed his cry for help?

“Having some trouble are we?” Anette taunted from inside. “Maybe you can get the fairies to fly ahead and ask for help.”

“Don’t distract me. I need to concentrate.”

As more cars passed, including a very lonely-looking trucker, Anette decided she had had enough. She put on her short skirt, heels and halter-top and walked outside into the tundra. There the girl stood, her pure white milky flesh shivering in the arctic breeze. Tuomas looked in envy. No matter what he did he could never look so pitiful as she did now.

“Who would ever stop for that?” Tuomas thought as he looked at her. Then he saw something fast approaching in the distance.

“Oh Boy! German tourists. We’re saved.”

The minibus slowed down and stopped. It was cold and the wind was beginning to blow snow and ice in their face. The window rolled down and a head poked out. “Hello. Do you speak English?”

“Yes,” Tuomas responded. “We need help. Our tourbus-“

“Ahem!” snorted Emppu. “Tuomas I know how much you love the sound of your own voice, but hello? They’re German, so I will be the one to show them the courtesy.”

“Emppu, I know you’re excited about learning German to impress your German fangirls, but really this isn’t the time-“

“Ahem! Steck Bratwurst in dein Saurkraut!"

The man just stared for a moment stunned. Emppu continued

“Dein weißes Fleisch erregt mich.”

Again the driver was stunned. He couldn’t figure out whether or not this little man was serious. Was this his idea of being polite?

“Bück dich, das Gesicht interessiert mich nicht.”

Not only was he stunned, but he was really unimpressed. He said something angrily, gesturing towards the floor of his van, then to the ground outside. Emppu smiled. He had been understood.

Five doors opened and five German men exited. They surrounded Emppu altogether, angry and offended. Though Emppu can be quite insolent, he is just charming enough to get away with it.

“Draußen wird ein Garten sein, und niemand hört dich schreien.”

Suddenly all their frowns faded into smiles. They laughed softly and shyly, and patted him on the back. He withdrew a flower from his pocket and put it in the driver’s hair. They patted him on the back, got back into the minibus, and drove off laughing.

“Well, mission accomplished!”

Tuomas was irate. “What do you mean mission accomplished?”

“My German phrases and Finnish charm are a perfect match. You saw how they reacted and they were totally straight and not even fans. What do you think will happen when I go to Germany?”

“Well thanks to you, we may never go anywhere!”

Emppu giggled. For him, the only thing more satisfying than trolling Germans is trolling Tuomas.

There they waited. It seemed unlikely anyone would dare take this road in the snowstorm. Gradually Tuomas began to slip into another depressive phase. Tears fell from his eyes as he stared into endless white. He would never make it in time. It just couldn’t happen.

“Well look on the bright side,” said Anette cheerfully. “At least you still have new socks.”

Choking back sobs, Tuomas bend over. After some fumbling through the white, the lifted up two masses of black. His Fort Bargain-bin socks. They could see the reason for his sadness. Each one was by now riddled with holes and tears. What could save them now?

Chapter 15

In the distance they could see a large van speeding towards them. As it approached they could see that it was covered in dozens of stickers. Each was one of theirs. It seemed an odd coincidence. It stopped, and a dozen girls got out and stood in a huddle, whispering amongst themselves. Then they all nodded and once and one of the short ones approached them. “G’day, mates. What’s up?” The question was punctuated by her munching.

Tuomas spoke for the band, as he always does. “We broke down and we’re stranded. The gnomes got offended and stopped working for us when the flavour of the month offended them. Would you believe that ditz was running her mouth about them not existing?”

“Hey! Be nice. We all say things we shouldn’t.” Fragments of white bread and a strangely alien brown substance spewed from her mouth as she spoke in her bizzah accent. Some foreigners and their customs can be quite obnoxious.

Tuomas turned away. “Apparently she isn’t the only one who needs to keep her mouth shut.”

“Oh, the sandwich? Its glorious. Here, want some?” She held it up high, for the band towered high above her.

Jukka bit, munched, and swallowed, the courageous one he is. He was intrigued. “Jarr! It be tasty. Tell me, where can a buccaneer plunder a jar?”

She giggled through a mouthful of the slop. A stream was beginning to form down her neck and shirt. “It’s called vegemite. It’s from ‘Stralia.”

“Ahh Australia. I sailed there once when I was just a little power monkey on the Man-O-War. Those were the days. Fighting the world every single day…”

She laughed loudly, until she choked. She stumbled back, sending projectiles in every direction. Nothing makes her laugh harder than cheesy Manowar puns.

“Well! That’s enough munchies for one day.” She shoved the half-eaten sandwich down her jeans and withdrew from its place a very large bottle of clear liquid. Maybe she isn’t the most flattering representative of the Nightwish fanbase. As she sat on the ground swallowing mouthfuls of poison, they could not tell whether or not she had been sent fourth as a cruel joke. No worries. As long as the situation is sufficiently laughable, there is no limit to what some will endure.

The group stood there watching the train wreck unfold. They had predicted what would happen next and they were right. The Aussie girl approached Jukka, and whispered something romantic in his hear. He nodded and smiled a smug smile, just as a pirate does and the two of them disappeared into the bus.

Another girl was pushed fourth, dressed head-to-toe in various shades of green, clutching a half-full pint glass, even though there wasn’t a pub for miles. She spoke, in a very heavy Irish accent. “Hey ye wanderers. It’s a pleasure to meet some foreign exotic skalds on the cold trail out here.”

The remaining four looked at one another and nodded. Emppu had a hopeful expression, but Tuomas gave him a most disapproving look. There would be no band-and-fan orgies today. Some things are far more important.

“Look, Miss, we’re stranded in the Finnish tundra. Could you please tell me what to do?” Tuomas had learned that acting polite towards his inferiors was often seen as something really virtuous.

“We’ll get to that in good time, MISTER!,” she said with a smile. She was amused, as the Irish are not well-known for such formalities. “Trust me, I’m Irish. I can help.”

She pulled a circular stone from her pocket, inscribed with runes along the outside.

“Not this bullshit again,” called a voice from the group.

“aye? Shut the FUCK up!” she shouted as she dropped her glass. The golden-brown liquid flowed and danced amongst the crystal shards of glass, sparkling in the sun.

She held up the stone, with an intriguing look in her eye. They could have sworn they saw a wink. “Everyone join hands with mine. Your life is about to change.”

Everyone did, except Tuomas, who looked at them in disgust. “You haven’t learned your lesson, even after the jack-in-the-box? Just what can you do, besides sing and play music?”

“We can DANCE!” said Emppu, and he and the girl did a spontaneous jig on the spot. His random happy outbursts for the day had been far fewer than what is required by the Emppuholics’ quota, and he feared what would happen if he left it too long.

So there were two band members distracted.

“You bitches are all stupid. See? I will help them,” said a girl with a Latino accent. She strode forward purposefully, with an objective. “Look here Tuomas. You’ve got to get you shit together. Stop being such a diva and get on with your life.”

This was sad indeed. Tuomas was being advised on life by a psycho fangirl.

“Well now that that skank Anette is out of my sight, I’m willing to help-“

“I will NOT have you call her names like that. I am a man of good taste and so are these other three. We would certainly not take any old slapper on the long and lonely road. We need class.” Tuomas is always very defensive of his multiple bridge partners.

“Everyone knows she was dredged from the gutter of Swedish Eurotrash. You’re Nightwish, not ABBA. Get it together. You could have any girl you wanted-”

“I chose well. She is a great companion for the four of us and has ever increasing skills. She can even play dirty when the situation commands a little trickery.”

“Look at the broad. She would go lonely at a rest home.”

“Oh yeah? Well you would go lonely in a prison!”

The two glared at each other for a split second and then both burst into tears. Tuomas spoke first like he always does:

“You have no idea what its like for us. Everywhere we go its ‘Tarja this,’ ‘Tarja that,’ ‘when’s Tarja coming back,’ ‘when’s Anette getting sacked.’ I deal with this bullshit every day.”

She was sobbing by this point. “We miss Tarja. We need her back. There isn’t a day that goes by we don’t listen to her and you, together in angelic harmony, and weep at the eternal loss. And then we see this?! You parading around that-“

“Say no more. Say no more.”

The two had run out of words. She turned and vanished into the silver Finnish fog. Her path through the light power snow was slowly obscured by the gentle northern breeze. Gone. No prints; no tracks.

Tuomas dusted off his hands, satisfied. “Well that’s one less psycho fangirl.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” shouted one of them. “She came back two days after we met Sonata Arctica. Apparently some people really like Jani.”

“Oh that draft-dodging, two timing ginger slut?”

“Oh so you have an opinion too? See? We’re not so different, are we?”

The group spoke amongst themselves again and chose a new representative. An woman, definitely older than the rest, with really curly hair walked forward.

“At last!” Tuomas exclaimed. “Someone with a shred of sanity.”

As she approached the three of them, they could quickly sense an overwhelming stench of tobacco smoke and old cheap Polish vodka. Are all Nightwish fans alcoholics? “Sorry for the conduct of my cohorts. They are quite immature at such an age” she said in a very heavy Slavic accent.

“HEY! SHUT UP GRANDMA!”

“Well maybe if you grew up you could talk to Tuomas too,” she snapped back to one of the group members. “Anyway,” she said as she turned to the three of them. “Just up the road you will find-“

“GET AWAY FROM THEM YOU COW!”

“WELL HIT PUBERTY AND EAT SOMETHING IF YOU WANT BOOTY!”

Tuomas shook his head. “This is getting nowhere.” He leaned forward and whispered, “lets talk in the bus. On the count of three, we’ll make a dash.”

They all nodded together. Tuomas began: “One! Two!”

“RUNNNN!” Shouted Marco and started running in the other direction, frantically. Instructions can be very confusing for some. The other girls took off behind him, but were hopelessly unable to catch up. The remaining band members and the Slav walked calmly into the bus.

“Well glad that’s over-OH MY GOD”

They had forgotten that Jukka had entered the bus with the Australian girl. The first thing he saw then he opened the door was the two of them, sitting in front of the T.V. with vodka in one hand, and popcorn in the other. The program was most different from the sophisticated stuff they were use to: “Jarrrrr strap the wench in. The rack be best for pacifying ye while we dig yer buried gold. The trail’s a bit muddy, but no trouble for a buccaneer to-”

Tuomas grabbed the two of them by the shoulder, and spoke sternly: “If you want to watch such programming, you’re going to have to do it on the break.” He marched the girl outside, who didn’t mind such disdainful treatment as long as Tuomas was touching her. Her life was complete as of this moment. As she was being dragged out her wallet dropped from her pocket. Emppu picked it up. “Oh girl, here’s your wallet,” he said as he handed it to her, not mentioning the glimpse he caught of Tuomas’ naked portraits in the clear pocket for such beloved pictures.

They sat down. Tuomas spoke: “Where can we go from here?”

Though she was like the rest of them, the Slav knew well her company. “These are some of your most devout fans.”

“Yeah. We can tell.”

“So what can you give them that no one else can?”

“Well… I don’t know.”

“Well step out there. You’ll think of something. What would you give God if he helped you so?”

“Backstage passes, but I’ve run out.”

“Well alright then. Just try asking. Never hurts.”

“Alright,” Tuomas sighed, and stepped outside.­­­­

He looked at the group, now in serious need. They could sense his desperation and all ran forward at once, in typical fangirl fashion, no longer able to contain themselves. They all spoke at once, quickly and excitedly, seemingly in one voice.

“Tuomas, Tuomas, oh my God… I can tell your day has gone badly… did you get my special gift? I left it between your sheets… need a place to crash?... there’s a rest stop down that dark and scary trail and I swear it doesn’t lead to my house… I know you know me. I live under your bed… will you please write a song about me and you, together, six feet beneath the Earth..”

“STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”

The girls froze, startled. Surely this was not Tuomas. Tuomas is perfect. Always with perfect levels of emotion.

“What do you girls want from me? Who do you think I am?”

One of them stammered “You’re… you’re Tuomas. From Nightwish. The best band of all time. Ou… our reason to live.”

“I am your purpose in life? Your reason to be?”

They nodded. Some of them were in tears. He looked at the oldest one, easily ten years senior to the rest. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

“No Tuomas. I’ve been saving myself… saving my purity for you…”

He sighed heavily, for real this time. “We’re just a band. Get a life.”

They all stood there, stunned for a moment. Then Tuomas had an idea.

“Wait a minute,” he shouted and disappeared into the bus. He stepped back out with an envelope in his hand.

“I have an idea. Girls, get me some men’s socks, a working tourbus and move all our stuff into it.”

“What’s in it for us?” asked one of them.

He held up the envelope high enough for them to see. “Backstage passes to our next show in Hyvinkää!”

The girls completely freaked out. The entire band smiled, except Jukka, who sat behind with his head in his hands.

“I have no idea how you are going to pull this off, but you know what I say?”

“YES!” shouted one girl who stepped forward. “A true fan ‘would be a loyal fan. The one that trusts us and doesn't judge by what he or she sees or hears.’” She recited the quote perfectly.

“Correct! Extra cookies for this girl here!”

She giggled and jumped up and down. Then they all ran off into the Finnish fog, quickly for they were on a mission from God.

Anette approached Tuomas. “Are we playing a show in Hyvinkää?”

“No.”

“So what was in the envelope?”

“Jarrr” sighed Jukka. “They be my Fort Bargain Bin coupons! And I been raidin’n’stashin em since I been a cadet on the Man’O’War.”

“You can cry later Jukka. The tourbus and socks are more important.”

And there they stood waiting. They knew they did not have long, for no one could ever be so determined than Nightwish fangirls questing for backstage passes.