The Story Chapter One

I think we should all collaborate on a big creative Bowie story, like someone says 'this happened,' then the next person goes, 'and this happened,' and so on and so forth and never ever stop... Ok, I'll start it up, since I thought of it...hmn...let's see...what to write...

David Bowie pulls the lapels of his coat jacket up over his face and makes his way out of the cab, across the street (unseen) and into the Happy Face Cafe. The place is smoky like out of an old movie. Two men sit by the counter silently sipping away at coffee and reading the paper. A waitress comes out of the kitchen ('ole Miss Beehive) She forces a plastic smile across her face. "We're open, please come in," she mutters. Bowie takes his hat off and presses it to his chest. He smiles, big white teeth and demon eyes!

Any takers? feel free to re-write what I've written and continue from there...

The waitress clears her throat and smiles again, this time uneasily, unsettled. "You. You've, errr, you've had your teeth done. Haven't you? Was it, was it painful?" Perhaps she has gone too far, been too familiar. Bowie fixes his demon eyes on the waitress' mouth. Then on her legs. His mouth twists into a quizzical smile "My teeth were well spotted. Unfortunately, they began to disintegrate circa 1989, so I had to have them capped - a painful process, which I wouldn't recommend to the faint-hearted. So now I have a whiter than white smile - This is the only artificial part of me. Thank you for your interest. "He lights a Dunhill Red and slowly surveys the parade of freaks sitting at the bar and the shabby tables around him...

Miss Beehive returns with a plum and carrot puree and two pieces of lightly toasted white bread with the crusts cut off and asks Bowie what brings him to a place like this. He explains that he's here in Picewa Kansas to record a small tribe of indigenous Indians performing obscure rituals for future use as a rhythm track on his upcoming part 4 of the 'Outside' trilogy. He's only just arrived by bus and the rest of his crew are arriving in the morning. He asks where the Rancho Vista Motel is located to which she replies "Why, just a stone's throw from here. Half a mile down the main road...on the left." Renewed with this information he pays the check, rises to leave and walks to the door. As if having second thoughts he pauses a moment and walks slowly over to Miss B and very discreetly places a small object in Miss B's hand. She watches him leave and looks into her hand and sees a small spotted tooth, perhaps a bicuspid.

Miss Beehive is absolutely appalled. Shrieking, she runs to the door and flings the tooth out into the street. It bounces, rolls, and comes to rest in the bed of pink and white striped plastic petunias. No sooner does the tooth hit the dirt, the only authentic thing within blocks, than it spawns Bowies.

Rising from the petunia bed like a small army of post-mythological droids, the fake Bowies wander aimlessly in every direction. "Oh no!" cries Miss B. One of you still owes me for those plums!"

"Never mind" they all growl in unison! "Put in on our tab!" It's a victory for the forces of CHAOS....soon the crew will arrive, and which Bowie will meet them? Will the Indians still be willing to cooperate after all this? How can anyone spot the authentic Bowie....and what to do with all the mindless Bowie look-a-likes spawned by that careless tooth toss?

Meanwhile (Insert ominous Batman/Danny Elfman music here), little did everyone know that the real Bowie had been caught in a struggle (thus losing his tooth) and whisked away in a black Mercedes by the evil Mariah Carey Minions. Yes, they, along with their leader, Mariah, had decided to try and conquer radio airwaves (and therefor the minds of the masses) with their dolphin-like screeching sounds and nauseating buffoonishness (exhibit :Fantasy video). The only thing they felt that stood in their way of totally, and utterly, destroying the ideology of creativity and talent was Bowie...

Mariah - black leather skin tight suit - she cracks her whip, lines of lacerations crossing his back road map style. "Tell me where thy talent lies," she bellows out high soprano--glass shatters. Bowie merely turns his head toward the wall - ready for another one! And she gives it to him.

She whips him for a long time - Bowie's back something even Bob Flannegan would be proud of. But unlike Mr. Flannegan, Bowie seemingly cannot stand that threshold of pain. His knees weaken, his arms slump--the chains about his wrists dig deep into the flesh. "What?" she says, "I can't hear you." She draws closer - kneeling down on the floor beside him. She places her leather embraced ear close to his mouth, almost against our fallen hero's lips.

Mariah looks down at the blood strewn carpet. Bizarre shapes, patterns...

Bowie moves his foot weakly, smearing the blood into an indescribable pattern, almost like that of a rose. He coughs and gasps. Mariah leans closer to hear his reply.

Bowie rasps out a vicious reply: "Nothing that you would ever know," he says. "Mariah, your music needs a lot more complexity than you'll ever believe."

Bowie slumps further on his chains, exhausted and breathless. Mariah grows angry.

The whip cracks again....

Unbeknownst to the Evil Mariah, Bowie had had a secret chip implanted just where his wig line touches the scar from his last facelift. He had it programmed in such a way that any annoying *singing* from any number of prefabricated pop divas would set off a silent alarm. He knew his knight in shining armor would come to his rescue (complete with a rubber hose, which is much more fun than your conventional whip). If he could withstand the vicious attack of her voice (far more damaging than any physical assault) he just might make it...

Iggy is the first to hear the alarm, but he's far too busy mixing up a batch of his patented Mr. Osterberg's Extra Special Peanut Butter Face Cream to leave just right now. If David had the sense to be kidnapped in, say, 3 hours, then it would have been no problem for Iggy to rush off. But since ole' Iggy must keep stirring in order to keep the cream from getting all lumpy (which just wrecks havoc with your complexion), David will just have to wait.

Evil Mariah opens her mouth to sing her version of The Laughing Gnome when...she suddenly begins to glow a bright orange and smoke. Soon the only thing remaining of the Frightful One is a puddle of hair spray on the sidewalk. David's adopted alien family had heard the distress signal in time and having collected in a loop the Evil Mariah's own cosmic noise pollution they then boosted the frequency to 4000000 mega-decibels and sent it her way in a concentrated stream of utter destruction. Their lumpy metallic ship descends from the sky and lands. David declines to absorb what little quickening was released with the death because it is tainted and he didn't want another one of those 'Never Let Me Down' incidents to occur. He does reach down towards the hair spray though, his wig being askew and a little dab would do it but the aliens, now out of the ship, scream out as one, "Don't touch it!! It's Pure Concentrated Evil!!"

Bowie is very happy to see his friends of course but they act strangely suspicious of him. Their scanners had picked up multiple other Bowie life forms and being who they were they required a test of authenticity. And so scientists went to work to devise one..... meanwhile.

Michael Bolton bursts into the soundproofed corridor by way of it's 2.4 ton steel doors! He stops for a moment, checks his head, mutters "Not a scratch!" and continues thundering into the room... Mariah, shocked, yells "Michael! What are you....." David sighs, thinking FINALLY! as Michael tears the whip from Mariah's hands. "I knew there was something wrong when I found THIS!" he said, holding up a shiny, polished molar. Mariah, furious, screams "What are you doing?! I was THIS close to having ALL his secrets!" "What secrets?" asks Michael, stupidly. Mariah screeches, foam and spit flying forth from her mouth. "His TALENT you fool!" everything in the room is rattling from her voice. "Oh, that.. you don't have to whip him to get THAT.. just tickle his armpits, like this.. " Bowie cringes..... "NOOOOOO!!" and starts filling the room with tortured screams and painful peals of laughter.. "MIIIIIKKAAALLLL!! NOOOO!!! A HAAHAAHAHHA!" And then! When it seemed all was lost, David manages to free one of his legs, and inadvertently kicks Michael's hand.. out of his hand, flies the tooth, which lands directly in the Evil Mariah's mouth... She stops, shocked, grabs her throat, and chokes until she finally swallows David's tooth! She gives a look of disgust. "Bleh! Yucky!" David braces himself, for he knows what is coming... Mariah EXPLODES, covering them both with her innards, and the remains of what looks like yet MORE Bowies! "Thank GOD," says David, "If I had to look at her in that leather suit for ONE more second.. I would've went completely mad!"

The two men stood in silence for a while. It was David who spoke first "Michael, please untie me... for, for old times sake?" David lifted the corner of his mouth, almost seductively. Michael moved closer...

The two men stood in silence for a while. Thinking of hot-dogs and donuts (Michael), trains speeding into tunnels (David)......It was David who spoke first "Michael, please untie me... for, for old times sake?" David lifted the corner of his mouth, almost seductively. Michael moved closer... bringing his lips to David's. Slowly Michael's tongue entered David's mouth and delicately moved across the immaculate porcelain caps like a French maid dusting precious statuary... Quickly Bolton withdrew and said "I had to do that to see if you are the real you. All of Picewa is overrun with Bowie drones and they all have your old bad teeth!" Michael helps David up and both scrape Mariah's splattered giblets from each other when the door swings open and Miss B, dressed in full Nazi regalia shouts "Vat ze himmel are you two doink down here? Zis ist my playroom!! Und ver ist my little liebe-slave Mariah?" Thinking quickly David explains that he and Michael were trying out a new recipe for microwave bread pudding when Michael opened the microwave door prematurely and sent rude organ meats flying about room. Miss B moves aside and David and Michael move past her brushing against her heaving cleavage which reminds David momentarily of the cantilever houses on stilts dotting the hills of Los Angeles. Miss B shouts at them as they run down the hall "Iff you zee zat little scamp Mariah tell her to get her skinny little ass down here right avay! Ve hafent got all nacht!!!"

The two rock superstars adjourn to the Rancho Vista Motel (room 26) where they.....

Sha-boom, sha-boom. "Oh, that was simply sensational," says Bowie through a breathe of cigarette smoke. "I'm glad you still enjoy me, Dave" says Michael. "Did you just call me Dave?" "Yes, why?" "'Yes, why'? No on calls me that. No one but those stupid internet people! And that stupid Joseph Peter Rantson Chaos, what's-his-name?! I hate him!" "But with out him..." Michael caresses David's chin. "Without him there wouldn't be us." David looks up at Michael with his innocent blue and brown eyes. "That's true," says David as he throws Michael over onto his back. "Oh," wines Michael, "You always get top."

Suddenly David reaches underneath the mattress and pulls out a HUGE ass scalpel and immediately starts scalping Michael. Mike tries to maneuver from underneath Dave, but by now David has him in a full nelson, and Bolton is trapped. After pulling off the prize Bolton mane, David begins to slowly make an incision into Michael's chest plate...Little did David know, that the entire group of "Bowie-spawns" had decided to band together and overthrow the real David Bowie, and had sent an elite group of prepubescent Bowie-spawns to annihilate him. They were using Michael's chest, in effect, as a Trojan Horse.

After the fatal incision was made, a small group of the prepubescent forms of the "Bowie-spawns" began streaming out, filling the entire room. The gnashed their crust encased teeth together in unison while steadily moving towards the real David. Horrified, David begins swinging Bolton's hair around, like a mallet, in the hopes of keeping the Bowie-spawns at bay...

But it's not working! The Bowie-spawns continue to advance on poor David. They start to shimmy while chanting in unison "this is for Mariah" in a Cockney accent reminiscent of Anthony Newley. But their collective voices, being tuned to David's own vocal wavelength, aren't enough to reactivate his emergency chip and there's no way that he can reach the door without bringing himself closer to their gyrating limbs. David makes one final sweep with Michael's hair, which somehow breaks the spell that caused the Bowie-spawns to dance. They then bring out their bottles of Lady Clairol Red Hot Red, hoping to dye Michael's beautiful locks since he'd always been too insecure in his masculinity to allow it to be dyed before. They close in on David, and the smell of peroxide is almost more than any human could bear. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door and in sashays Mick Jagger. He takes in the scene before him, turns to look at the room number, and leaves, muttering that he was looking for rm 27 at the Rancho Vista Motel and besides, he's not into all that anymore. The Bowie-spawns close in on David....

....dancing maniacally. David throws the Lady Clairol saturated Bolton-mop at the drones and they become helplessly entangled in the sopping tresses. Suddenly a furious Jerry Hall appears at the door holding a gun. She screams "Mick I know you and Uma are in there, come out right now!!" in her endearing southern drawl. David says "Hello Jerry! I think you want rm 27, next door!" Jerry coos "Thank you David, you're a true gentleman, and tell Iman I said 'hello'" Jerry storms off. David surveys the carnage in the room, the eviscerated corpse of Michael Bolton and a huge evil-smelling yarn-ball of Bowie drones and slimy Bolton locks. A hideous growing drone fills the air, drowning out the gunfire and screams in rm 27, and David runs outside to see the sky slowly growing black with Sony) helicopters. In the lead 'copter sits the President of Sony Corporation, known affectionately as 'Boompums' to his late wife Mariah. And he's very angry. David dashes into the street and begins waving frantically to the passing traffic. A late model Lincoln convertible stops and Bowie jumps in just as the Sony-chief's helicopter lands in the parking lot of the Ranch Vista. The driver of the Lincoln, which David has yet to look at, croaks in his patented monotone "David Bowie, chameleon of rock, what are you doing in Kansas?" he continues "Remember me? Your old friend William S. Burroughs?" David is overjoyed to see Burroughs and asks "Do you have somewhere that I can hide?" Burroughs gasps, "I live just six miles down the road, in Lawrence, I come over here because the VideoMart is better here, a real secret. Come to my house and we'll watch 'The Nutty Professor'. Did I ever tell you about me and Eddie Murphy?"

"Oh, everybody knows about Eddie Murphy..." David begins, and then realizes that something is amiss. Maybe it's the fact that Burroughs has a Bolton song playing softly on the car radio. Maybe it's the fact that the Sony) chopper has stopped its chase and seems to be more preoccupied with filming the events in rm 27 (for a rush-released Xmas video that the whole family can enjoy year after year). Maybe it's the fact that Burroughs hasn't aggressively tried to pick up on him since he's gotten into the car. And maybe it's the fact that all of a sudden David remembers that Burroughs is DEAD (*insert ominous Elfman music here*). Burroughs begins a slow but giggly version of When a Man Loves a Woman and steps on the gas pedal. The moodily lit Kansas landscape goes sweeping by the windows in one big blur. With a deep feeling of dread David says to himself, "I wish I'd never heard of Picewa; Kansas will most definitely NOT be on my next tour. Damn that fed up; I should have never listened to him. 'it'll be just as much fun as upsville,' he said. Bloody liar." Burroughs turns off on a dirt path, adjusting his hat and laughing...

"Would you have such a thing as a light?" Bowie's cigarette dangles unlit from his lips. He waits. Burroughs continues to hum and gurgle insanely under his breath. "I guess not." David gazes out the window and calmly hatches a very cunning plan. He shifts his gaze to Burroughs' hoary features. "You've got a moth on your chest. Right there." David rests his index finger lightly on Burroughs' chest. As he does so, Burroughs glances down at his chest - just long enough for David to swiftly ram his index finger firmly up Burroughs' left nostril, and to thrust him, nose first, through the windscreen...

The car falters then skids sideways and rolls. David is thrown clear of the wildly spinning car but Burroughs having his seatbelt firmly fastened according to Kansas state law, remains in the rolling vehicle until it stops on one side, and with one great creaking sigh teeters over onto Burroughs. Greasy side up. Bowie dashes over to see only Burroughs feet protruding from underneath the smoking wreckage. Bowie kneels down and touches the flattened father of the cut-up methods Bruno Magli shoes. The dead authors legs shrivel and recoil under the car and Bowie jumps back. He looks around the barren landscape and says to himself "I don't think I'm in Picewa anymore." An annoying buzzing comes from the horizon and he sees a small crop-duster flying directly at him. As he flattens himself onto the pavement bullets raining down around him he sees that the President of the Sony) Corporation is piloting the menacing machine. The plane loops skyward and banks left in preparation of another pass. Bowie runs into the cover of the nearby cornfields and crawls into the thickets of corn stalks.... The plane passes overhead twice, bullets flying, and disappears, sucked into the immense horizon. He dusts himself off and begins the long walk back to Picewa.....

He takes a little nap on a bench, and when a store clerk enters her shop, he follows her in.

"This is not a pawn shop," she says holding Bowie's ring to her eye.

"Can't you give me anything more than twenty dollars. I need so much more." Bowie lets that worry wrinkle up his brow.

"Twenty is all I can give you for, young man." Bowie looks downcast.

"Well, if you could throw in a few spankings, maybe we could work something out?"

Their eyes meet. Smiles cross both their faces.

Suddenly, the shop fills with smoke. A large black hole appears in the floor, right in front of the cash register. "No" cries David. "Not the dreaded Labyrinth!" Just then he looks up and sees a horrid sight! Mick Jagger, bleeding profusely from hundreds of bullet holes, staggers into the shop, holding Uma's head by the now-pink hair. Behind him trails a terrible revenant of poor Mariah, put together rather hastily in the Sony labs in the back of the shop. 'A trap', thinks David to himself (this is one swift dude!) Taking the least horrible alternative, David leaps into the black hole, pulling it shut just in time. Mick claws with bloody hands at the floor where just moments earlier, the entrance to the Labyrinth had been. 'Foiled again'!! cries the evil Mick. 'I knew who must have turned me in....David told Jerry about me, and Uma! The rat! I kept quiet when he...." Just then, the Sony copter roars into sight, sending a spray of flechettes thru the glass, pulverizing the entire contents of the shop. Meanwhile, David gropes through the Labyrinth. 'This entire stupid place looks the SAME' he cries in frustration. 'There's no way out! I'd rather be in Kansas!' Realizing what he just said, he sinks to the ground in horror, knowing there is only one hope left. He must somehow contact fed up!! fed up can get him to Hel's house. Hel could call Robot Monster or Ramona or some of the other regulars! Party time! And he could get help from D.S. and that terrible Peter! 'Oh yes, that's it! I'll hire Ranting Peter as my bodyguard....then these nasty incidents wouldn't keep occurring. It's getting bloody boring! And if Ramona comes over, I'll still get that spanking!!

And boy do I need a good spanking!' David stumbles on and on for what seems like forever in the dark underground, until...

Jim Henson (who was reportedly DEAD [*insert ominous Kermit D. Frog song with music by Danny Elfman here*]) appears in a puff of green smoke. David recoils in fear, not at first recognizing the Bearded One. As recognition sets in, David breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, Jim," he says, "you've no idea how awful this night has been for me. I'm so glad to see a friendly face..." "Not so fast, buck-o," Henson replies. "I've a little bill here that my lawyer has drawn up for me. It includes expenses for dry-cleaning that bloody beastie costume to get out that god awful smell of cigarettes! And for all those wigs and all that make-up that *mysteriously* disappeared from wardrobe. Not to mention the fact that you broke Haggle's heart and sent him to an early grave. Boy, I'm gonna make you wish that you'd never met me. And it's not just because you look better in tights than I ever did." David peers around frantically, looking for...

...and reaching for his black leather codpiece. Yes, my friends, if he could only reach it without Henson knowing, he would be able to activate his secret weapon, a raging jock-itch infection, that would certainly hold Henson at bay. With much joy, Bowie grabs his codpiece from his genitalia, and waving a handful of his meaty protrusion at Henson, he starts laughing hysterically. "Aaah-haa-haa-haa!..."

"Ha Haaah ha ha ha" he laughs on insanely. "Ha ha, yourself, Dave" says Henson. "Lordy, I dunno what YOU'RE laughing at. That's even less impressive than it looked in Man Who Fell to Earth, you old fruit!" Embarrassed, David retracts his impish shlong and buttons up his codpiece. "I'm sorry, Jim" he murmurs, abashed. "I'm totally fagged. This has been one hell of a day and I don't know whether I'm coming or going. You're understandably upset. I'll send the wigs back... they did this vote at Teenage Wildlife, anyway. And I've got some rather nifty financial maneuverings going on right now so that I can pay you back for the dry-cleaning and make up. Listen, can we get out of here? I'll buy you a banana daiquiri."

"Back at the ranch, Dr. Weinstein has constructed a bomb that will blow up the universe! Can Bowie stop him? Will Kermit and Miss Piggy ever do the nasty? Find out in our next episode OF The Man Who Came To Earth (I said came)," writes Joseph Henry K III. Little does he know it, but Bowie is sitting on the love sofa behind him with Kermit, them making out. Kermit, "Do you think he'll ever notice?" Bowie, "I doubt it! All he DOES it type into his computer." Kermit, "I bet he'd be surprised!" Bowie, "Well, why don't we leave him a little something to wonder over."

Bowie tears off Kermit's left leg and carefully places it on the coffee table beside the Kleenex box.

Joseph types more and more slowly as his eyelids begin to droop. "I'll just rest my head on the keyboard for a minute..." he thinks.

"bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb bbbbbbb..." his forehead types.

And Joseph dreams... of phantom Boltons, Careys and Burroughses. Of prepubescent Bowie clones. Of Kansas cornfields... and of Bowie and Kermit lost in a deeply probing, intensely energetic and tonguey kiss on the love seat behind him.

Joseph hears his own voice saying, over and over again in a gentle Kansas drawl, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home." Over and over... and then - he sits bolt upright. Suddenly more awake than he's ever been. Bowie and Kermit? The love seat?? HIS love seat???? He swivels around violently in his chair - his heart racing.

The love seat is empty. "Shit, it was just a dream!" Joseph whines as he slumps back in his chair and scratches his crotch. "I'm going to bed". He shuffles from the room and turns out the light... without ever noticing the Kermit leg on the coffee table... or the Bowie-sized ruby slippers on the love seat.

...Meanwhile Bowie and Henson are knocking back fruity cocktails in a happening little cafe three miles (just enough) from the Bog of Eternal Stench, and the plot thickens...

"When did you add this excellent bar and lounge to the Labyrinth, Jim?" inquires David, relaxing for the first time in hours. "I don't recall it being here back when we did that film!" "Oh, it was here, but you were so busy changing wigs and bitching about teenage leading ladies that we never got around to taking you here" replies Jim. "But I've got to go to a smoky back-room meeting with those Goblins in a minute, so you've got to find your own way out." "NO" whines David. "Let me use your car and driver....I need to get back to the Rancho Vista Motel....I'm expecting people for drinks! They're going to listen to my old songs and fork over a bundle! I can't miss this appointment, Jim!" "Forget it, Dave" warns Henson. "Don't call me that! Only those stupid internet people call me that!" snarls David. "Only those stupid internet people still like your songs, Dave!" sneers Jim as he abandons David at his table. "Huh" sulks David. "What do YOU know, you jerk! You're DEAD!" A grim waiter appears, demanding payment for the 6 fruity drinks, but David realizes he's lost his wallet somewhere along the way. "I'll bet that sneaky frog Kermit picked my pocket when I was involved with that tonguey kiss! Never trust alien life forms!" thinks David, pulling off his wedding ring to pay the tab. He saunters to the door, looking out into the murky gloom. Jareth's castle shadows the horizon, miles of intricate maze between. "I wonder if there's a tube" sighs David, looking for signs of a subway entrance in the nearby maze. But no such luck. Suddenly, David hears a merry whistle around the bend. "What's that?" he wonders? "I'm sick of this paltry Henson rerun!" Suddenly, around the corner comes strolling....Trent Reznor, and in a fine good mood, too! David is immediately suspicious.....

Trent whistles the tune to Crystal Japan, marveling at how he could have come up with that tune all by himself. He sees David, and smiles shyly. "There you are," he says. "Why haven't you returned my calls? Don't you care about me anymore?" David stammers, thinking of what to say and still suspicious since Trent seems to be in such a good mood (after all, he is smiling, which is a rare thing for him). Before David can say anything, Trent reaches over and gives him a big hug. "Never mind. That's all in the past," Trent says. "I was just on my way to the semi-annual Virgin Sacrifice over in Picewa. I always hate to go to these things by myself, but none of my friends wanted to come along. Won't you join me...

Like, naked people dance around in circles and Trent, shirtless, has white body paint all over his chest, arms, and face. David is inappropriately dressed in a tux and feels damn uncomfortable around all these naked people. So, it undoes his bow tie and begins to take off his clothes. Margot and Ramona show up, help him off with his boxers (!) and give him these terrible red, hot spankings so he can't sit down for the next three weeks--so he just roams the streets, instead, in despair, finally leaning his weight onto the side of a building, and, having forgotten that he never got dressed again, is arrested for indecent exposure.

In the jail house...