Red stars Dying

Neechi

(Dedicated to TK.)

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            Follow me down this twisted path/Of life and love and destiny…

            Maybe I shouldn’t have taken this job. The same thing day after day, night after night, week after week, year after fucking year. I’m their puppet. The pretty little puppet that dances and sings and smiles for them, bringing them money and then being shoved inside a little wooden box until the next time it’s needed. Why would I take such a job? I needed the money; the opportunity seemed wonderful at the time. I was tired of eating ramen, too. They held out this beautiful piece of paper, and I took my time to read the first paragraph or two, but then it got too technical for my poor little head, and I flipped to the back and signed my name. Thus I became their puppet.

            …Let me be your Shining Star/ In this dark night, Eternity…

            I stare at the screaming crowds of fans, all fervent to watch me sing and dance. I step out onto stage, nervous as always. Someone shouts into my earpiece, and I hide my wince. That hurts, damnit. More fans slam into the guards, I hide my laughter. Serves them right, dirty bastards. I walk slowly to the center, rejoicing in the limited amount of freedom I get. They don’t like it when I take my time, I do. Patience, you froth. (Don’t ask.)

            Finally, I reach the microphone; smile when I see it’s too tall. So, I take my time adjusting it. Actually, I’m supposed to take it off after the intro, bounce around stage and make the fans squeal like little stuck piggies. (Only they’re not sad or anything, they’re all happy-like.) So, I adjust it too low; smile again, and adjust until it’s perfect. They hate me! (-)

So now, I stand, hands at my sides and watch the screaming, frantic, soon-to-have-a-few-heart-attacks fans, and signal the band to start. (They’re trying to hide their amusement too.) So, they start, and I take a ridiculously long time to wind up. They hate me even more, and they can’t fire me because there’s a contract.

…I’ll bring you joyous light/ Into your dark, desolate existence…

            The fans scream, the managers scream, the band plays their hearts out (even though music isn’t all that grand), and I sing to my hearts content. Thus, it’s a terrible performance, but the fans are blind, brainwashed worms and so they don’t notice the difference. The concert is long, sweaty, tedious, boring, and I swear I could smell those worms. Pigs. Whatever. (They’ll probably be squirrels next time.)

            Afterwards, I drink my hearts content (it’s water, you alcoholics! They won’t let me drink anything but water!) And the managers storm to me in their matching suits and matching ties and shiny shoes, all walking in unison.

            “What the hell was that?” one demands, eyeing my bottle of Albertson’s water. He snaps at one of the mechanics to go get me an Evian. Hmph. Can’t even pick my own water, now can I, you flock of geese. (Geese are annoying. Once, I went to feed them some ramen- I wasn’t exactly hungry- and they came up and bit me! Can you believe that?! The stupid bird bit me!)

            “A performance,” I reply, resisting the urge to spit on them. It’s good water, the Albertson’s brand, you know. Evian is only good because, um, the bottles look pretty.

            “Don’t do that again!”

            “Perform?” I don’t think they hear it, but they all glare at me and keep their comments to themselves.

            When the mechanic comes back with my bottle of Evian (it’ll go under the hotel bed), one old manager wrinkly enough to be a raisin takes my Albertson’s. I slowly take the bottle of Evian, and watch them walk away with a smirk on my face.

            I’m dying again.

A/N: Uh… Yeah. Random story for TK. Whoa, I should put that at the top. Jam. Okey, back.  - Yeah, title really was random, I’d rename it, but I’m too lazy. Lethargic! Woot!

Tk’s Stamp of Approval:

o.o Yay! hugs the story NO BOLD. ;; Uh… I think it should be a boy! No sign! Awesome story! NO Q. ß Jinto Happy. Jinto is happy because he’s happy all the time. He gets shot but he still smiles. It’s scary. Thought you’d like to know.

Lots of pbbbfht,

Tk