Cookoo Charlie's Animal Alphabet - Constrictor
Constrictor
Over 100 nights a year, he has faced death. Most times, it was from a guillotine’s blade, but there had been nights when he had illuminated the audience with jolts from the electric chair and left them hanging in anticipation as he dangled from a noose. Tonight though, for the first time, he was staring down the barrel of a gun.
The gun was a .38 Special in the hand of a man on a mission. No, he wasn’t some irate husband whose wife had cheated on him with some sleazy musician. How unoriginal and droll. Alice had been, after all, devoted to his wife, Sheryl, ever since she had danced into his heart during The Nightmare tour of ’75.
The man wasn’t looking for conversation with the Shock Rock King. He was direct and to the point.
“Animals aren’t here to entertain humans. Since the early ‘70’s, Alice, you’ve used snakes in your act. That ends tonight.”
Having said that, the man fired one shot into Alice’s heart. Exiting the limo, he opened the rear door where Alice was slumped over on the seat. The man tossed a note by The Coop’s head. It read: Somebody gave me this gun and I gave it everything.
It had been a couple of days and news of the murder hadn’t made it to the media. Was Alice still alive? Was there a cover-up? No way, thought the man. From Sam Cooke to John Lennon, the murder of musicians was big news. Not only did their deaths cause an immediate increase in record sales, but magazine and book publishers cashed in on the tragedies as well. What the hell happened?
It was a mild evening in Warren, Ohio. Three days had passed since the man had executed his plan of serpentine revenge on the Lord of Nightmares. And yet, here was Alice on the Packard Music Hall stage in the middle of his fifth song of a twenty-three song set.
“Have you got the time to find out who I really am?” sang Alice with a Boa Constrictor draped around his neck. Who you really are? What the hell are you?, would be a more accurate inquiry. You’re supposed to be stone cold dead not raising a snake above your head.
Unbeknown to The Coop’s would be assassin, Alice had a life-altering experience on April 7, 1988, during the Live In the Flesh tour. As the band played the Killer instrumental, Alice was sent plummeting down from the gallows, like it was planned every night. Only that night, the piano wire that was supposed to protect Alice snapped. Serpent-quick reflexes saved the forty-year old macabre musician from actually having his neck snapped!
Alice spent a lot of time contemplating that near-fatal accident. Always the showman – indeed, the greatest showman – Alice wasn’t afraid of his own death and he knew that the show must go on. However, what he did fear was what would happen to Sheryl if something ever happened to him. And so he made a decision he never thought he would’ve ever contemplated.
The born-again Christian who believes every word in the bible is true sold his soul to the devil. To claim his soul all Satan had to do was keep him alive until after Sheryl had passed on. It was that simple.
But could the Horned One really be trusted? He is, after all, the ultimate deceiver.
That answer came on a stormy night almost a decade later. It was August 16, 1997 and Alice’s Rock and Roll Carnival, like Mother Nature, was raging on at full force down at Cleveland’s riverfront. The audience was getting drenched as torrential rains plummeted the outdoor venue. Lightning lit up the darkness, making spectacular images on the water.
As Alice, wide-eyed, gazed out at his fans, from the Nautica Stage, the blade of the guillotine was released. However, the bottom piece, where his head rested, didn’t fall down like it was supposed to. The forty pound blade decapitated the singer.
As Alice’s headless body toppled to the floor, his head hit the bottom of the basket placed in front of the guillotine. Seconds later, Alice’s bleeding neck was sporting a brand new head.
Aware of the tragic accident that had just occurred, Alice felt around his head and neck, making sure everything was back to normal.
“What are you waiting for, boys,” said Alice. “Grab that head and let’s get on with the show!”
Not missing a beat, Alice’s would-be stage executioner snatched the head from the basket. He brought it front and center stage, walking from one end to the other and back again, while the crowd sang along with the prerecorded song track.
“I love the dead! I love the dead!”
All audience eyes were transfixed on the ghoulish spectacle before them, so they weren’t aware of the smiling face in the rain clouds above them. A ‘satanic face’, full of ‘ancient grace’.
That face was singing, “ I only know that hell is getting hotter, the devil is getting smarter… all the time”.
I've been wanting to write an Alice Cooper story for some time now. It just didn't fall into place until a couple weeks ago.
The whole point of this story isn't Alice; it's using animals as entertainment for humans. I've been a fan of Alice's and as much as i love the man, i wish he'd stop using snakes in his act. Yeah, I know fans expect it at every show, but, as far as this Cooper fan is concerned, it's wrong.
Wild animals don't belong on the stage, in circuses, aquatic shows or on the small and large screen. They belong in the wild. Period.
For those of you interested in learning more, please check out and support the non-profit organization, Born Free USA.
www.bornfreeusa.org
