Normal VS Psychopath

Yet another pointless fic from the talent less author.

Warning: Author knows not of what he speaks.

Chapter One: Meet the Sugar*Pops

            The night was stuffy over the brown and brittle grass that had been burnt up by the day’s sun. The sky was a heated black and it was hot. The people wandering around in shorts and T-shirts didn’t seem to care, well, all those who hadn’t succumbed to heat exhaustion anyway. They’d rather have it hot and sunny than cold and wet for this year’s ‘Songs from a Century’ music festival, a clash of pop, rock, dance and rap. The days were split, Saturday having rap in the day and dance at night, while Sunday had pop during the day and rock at night.

            A successful but currently small pop group named ‘The Sugar*pops’ were hanging around backstage, waiting for one of their favourite dance acts to come on.

            The main man, Zack, was a 5’10” brown-eyed, brown haired, black teen heartthrob. He was 21, the same age as his ‘second-in-command’ Katie. She was 5’7” with honey blonde and brown streaked bobbed hair and green eyes. There were two other girls in the group, the athletic long black haired, ice-blue eyed, 22 year old Allison, the same height as Katie, and the pale blonde, powder-blue eyed Bethany, 20, 5’6”, bubbly and innocent. Joshua, also 20 years old, stood at 5’8”. He had black hair and deep brown eyes and was quite shy. The last member, Richie, was broad-shouldered and tall, at 6’1”. He had bleached blond hair and hazel eyes and looked quite forbidding. He was also 20.

            The girls had split a while ago, hunting for unusual purchases in the many stalls, while the guys went out into the crowd in front of the main stage to listen to their favourite dance group the ‘Would-Be Cowboys’. The beat pulsed through them and they began to dance, occasionally being walloped by a hurtling body, too high on drugs or drink or the music to care about where they were going. It was a blast.

*          *          *

            The lead guitarist of the punk band, ‘Razor Sharp Scars’ was drunk. And that was putting it mildly. He knew that his bus was on one side of the rope separating the rock acts from the pop acts for ease of location, but he just couldn’t remember which side that was. He shrugged, picked the bus nearer to him and stumbled up into it, collapsing on a bunk and immediately falling to sleep.

*          *          *

            Richie blinked awake, hugging his pillow closer to his chest as he did so. He had fallen into bed late last night, hardly knowing where he was through exhaustion.

            *Mmmmm… bed. Warm bed. Stay in bed. * He thought to himself, but then sat up, remembering that the group had to prepare for their set today. He stretched and yawned and his pillow… moaned?

            He looked closer, finally waking up enough to realise…

            “WAGHHH!!! WHAT THE HELL?”

            He made an admirable attempt to leap out of bed, but forgot that his foot was still in the sheets, falling to the floor instead. The ‘pillow’ didn’t move.

            “What? What’s wrong? Rich?”

            “Rich? You okay?”

            His band mates had woken up to see what all the fuss was about. Rich scowled.

            “Which one of you wise guys put a guy in my bed?”

I’m only gonna post more of this if I get reviews because it was a tiny-eeny little fic idea that I wrote in about ten minutes, so if you don’t like it, I won’t bother continuing.