Ashes to Ashes

The day I met Nigel was the day I had to walk from the mall to Clowie's house, facing the cruel, unwielding elements. My fingers were frozen to the frappucino bottle placed snuggly in my hand and the one glove I had did nothing. Along the way, I met a delightful fellow, who turned out to be a hobo. He told me his name was Nigel. I called him Ninny. He had dark hair that was matted and messy, and a goatee. He carried with him a mysterious bottle containing a funny smelling liquid, draped in a brown bag like the holy grail.

We quickly became friends, as we journeyed to Clowie's, singing David Bowie songs. He was a good singer. We both agreed Ashes to Ashes was quite possibly the best work of musical genius ever. Strangely enough, he seemed to sound better and better with every swallow of the strange concaction in the bag. I asked Ninny what it was, and he told me a magic potion that made him warm. I nodded and said it must be spiffy. He nodded too.

It seemed like Nigel and I were going to make it after all. Clowie's house was just across the horizon, and our days journey was almost over. But Ninny was tired. He wanted to take a nap. I told him not to, but as we came across an abadoned playground, he curled up on the slide and fell asleep. He never woke up.

As soon as he stopped snoring, I knew Ninny had passed. I cried and wailed and asked god why. He didn't answer.

Nevertheless, Ninny was dead and I was less then a mile away from my destination. I couldn't drag him with me. He was thin, but he was still a grown man and I am but a girl.

So I did the only honorable thing possible.

I started a fire with his liter and cooked him. I tried to eat him, but he didn't taste very good. So I gave him to the birds and kept his hat. It smells of his magic potion and something else I can't quite place. I'll forever treasure it.

So I left Ninny, and made my way to the fair Clowie's, singing David Bowie songs by myself now and sniffling as the liquid dripping from my nose began to freeze. It just wasn't the same without Ninny. So I put on his hat, in loving memory, and began to sing louder. And I swear I could hear his voice in the wind, singing:

"Ashes to ashes, funk to funky, we know Major Tom's a junky, strong out on Heaven's high and reaching an all time low..."

-In loving memory of Nigel.

A/N: I've posted this on my live journal and I'm fairly certain people really belived this happen. It didn't. However, I did walk to my friends, Clowie's, house one afternoon in thefreezing coldsinging David Bowie songs and making up this story along the way to tell her when I got there. And I must say, I'm rather proud of it. Not so much the written version as what I told her and her mom and her mom's boyfriend and her boyfriend at the time. R and R if you like, please.