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The following is an ongoing work of composite fiction by
contributors from the Message Board. Due to the erratic nature of
its construction the editors apologize for any omissions or lack of
attribution to the proper authors. This story is on-going and will be
archived here periodically. For current chapters, comments, or to
add you own chapter, please visit the Message Board. This story is
a work of fiction. Names have been changed to protect the guilty
and any similarity to actual events is purely coincidental.
He closes his eyes and dozes off.
It's been a bewildering series of events for our beloved David. He's
traveled through the plains of Kansas, the greater galaxies and the
centuries in the last few hours. He's had intimate relations with so
many he's forgotten who he's done what with. He can smell Bolton,
Mariah, Margot and traces of Miss Bee's Opium knockoff on
various parts of his person. It's all a blur of motel rooms,
supermodels brandishing firearms, conversations with God, dirty
looks from the Picewa tribe and bad episodes of Dr. Who. And he's
mixed down Earthling and planned a huge
party/concert/pay-per-view/benefit with 17,000 of his closest
personal paying friends.....which begins in minutes!!
Suddenly he's backstage at beautiful Madison Square Gardens and
Iman is splashing water in his face. "David, David darling, you
dozed off for a moment! Are you alright?" David looks around the
crowded dressing room and sees Mariah Carey, Michael Bolton
and Liza Minelli standing in front of him, he says "Oohhh, I had the
most amazing dream. And you were in it, and you, and you too
Mariah." Iman says rather impatiently "David you have three
minutes to get on stage, Orbital have been done for 45 minutes and
the crowd is getting restless." David pushes the make-up artist and
hair dresser aside and puts on his union jack duster and heads for
the stage. The crowd is chanting, "Bowie, Bowie, Bowie..." as
David appears in the darkness under the solitary white cone of an
overhead spotlight. He looks behind him at the symphony
orchestra and nods for them to begin. A hush falls over the crowd.
He stands silently as the orchestra plays the 12 minute overture to
Diamond Dogs -and Liza Minelli enters from stage right. She sings
"Something kind of hit me today...." and they launch into a goose
bump inducing duet of 'We Are the Dead.' A gigantic diamond
vision screen behind them displays Yoko Ono's 1970 film, Fly in
which a single housefly is followed, in intense close-up, as it walks
across a nude woman's body who is nodding out from a big tasty
fresh hit of heroin. The song ends and the diamond vision screen
flashes white and instantly the stage is illuminated by every white
light available and an intense, almost deafening jungle/industrial
beat begins. The effect is so shocking the crowd takes a small step
backward. Liza and David embrace, Liza exits waving and bowing.
Stage right, Tricky moves insect-like, slowly toward center stage as
David begins slowly singing "Always Crashing in the Same Car"
and they proceed to perform a 12 minute version trading vocal
parts, Tricky muttering in his trademark way. The audience moshes
like a wild surf cresting on the edge of the stage. Suddenly the beat
is cut by half, and begins to slow even further into a lumbering
subterranean trip-hop dub-style groove. The symphony orchestra,
which sat motionless behind a protective Plexiglas wall during the
previous jungle number begins playing a James Bond/Bernard
Herman style soundtrack. A portly Brian Eno, in an exact replica of
the costume he wore on the inside of Roxy Music's For Your
Pleasure (the black velvet & sequin one with the big plumage
across the front and back) is lowered from the rafters by a thin wire.
Frankly, he looks ridiculous. To make matters worse Eno has
trouble unhooking himself from the wire and has to have a stage
hand come to his aid. After struggling for a few moments, Eno
writhes out of his velvet jacket and trousers and then the elaborate
corset thing and is finally free. Bowie has been dancing off to the
side and mugging with fans trying to divert attention from poor
Eno, now busy putting the velveteen outfit back on. The trip-hop
beat continues as Eno goes to a bank of equipment and Thurston
Moore appears and begins playing a grinding version of 'Heroes.'
Bowie sings this solo, although Eno is moving his lips. it's
impossible to tell if he's singing back-up or bitching at the
stagehand nearby. 'Heroes' has the audience in rapture. Some
visibly weep. The song ends and the diamond vision screen
displays a live satellite-link birthday greeting from Bill And Hillary
Clinton. Thankfully, their words are drowned out by the trip hop
beats but their image remains up on the screen waving and smiling,
Chelsea stands behind them grinning, she has an Aladin Sane style
lightening bolt crudely scrawled across her face.... David looks up
at the immense screen, arms outstretched. The band launches into
'Young Americans' which turns into a similar medley he did on the
Cher show in the mid-seventies, and of course, Cher appears from
stage right to sing her part. Quickly they're joined by David
Sanborn on saxophone and Luther Vandross, (in a red sequined
suit which makes him look like a freshly polished apple) joining in
on the vocals... --hey, it's a long medley, there's room for even
Luther. Everyone on-stage is beaming, kissing David and handing
him gifts, which he promptly gives to a stage hand, who in turn
passes them on to Iman, standing in the wings. Iman quickly
unwraps and scrutinizes the gifts, she sets some aside, others she
throws to the audience who instantly destroy whatever she tosses
at them. Soon the floor at the front of the stage is crunchy with
broken bits of: one Cuisineart, endless bouquets of flowers(Iman's
allergic), a SmartClapper, shreds of Ralph Lauren sheets, and a set
of hand-painted bread-dough refrigerator magnets that Luther
Vandross made, small detailed portrait busts of all the musicians
that worked on the 'Young Americans' sessions -including John
Lennon. By the end of the 'Young Americans' medley there are
dozens of people on stage and it's looking a little "We Are the
World." David has been joined by Liz Taylor, P.J. Harvey, Sylvester
Stalone, Julian Schnabel, Flea, Shelly Long, TLC, Lou Reed, Donald
Trump, Hugh Grant and Faye Dunaway. They all sing along for the
finali. At the end David thanks all his friends and announces that
he's going to take a short break, but the entertainment will
continue! David goes off stage to Iman and they sort through the
gifts. On-stage Michael Bolton and Eddie Veder are butchering
'Under Pressure.' They finish to modest applause and Mariah Carey
takes the stage with Beck to sing 'Life on Mars,' at the end of
which, she sits at the edge of the stage and cries. The diamond
vision screen displays the world's largest tear rolling down the
world's largest cheek. Mariah thanks the few audience members
that aren't currently in line at the restrooms or buying t-shirts and
Two men and two women walk on-stage looking like some
middle-aged brother/sister act. They get into position and one of
the men says in a heavy Swedish accent 'Hallo, my name is Bjvrn
Ulvaeus and we are ABBA." They begin singing 'Telling Lies' in
their unique vocal style that conquered the pop charts worldwide in
the seventies. Cher and Bowie are lowered from the rafters dressed
in white body-stockings (thankfully, they have no trouble
unhooking themselves from the wires) and begin an elaborate mime
while ABBA deftly change from 'Telling Lies' into 'Breaking Glass,'
Agneta and Anifrid shield their eyes while Cher and Bowie mime
smashing imaginary objects on the stage floor. The diamond vision
screen shows clean suburban home interiors. Benny, Bjvrn, Agneta
and Anifrid finish the song, hug Bowie, hand him a gift and leave
the stage. In the wings Iman unwraps what turns out to be a
gift-pack of Swedish cheeses which she instantly throws to the
audience who dodge the flying wheels of Swedish Gouda and
Halversblavd. Cher leaves with ABBA and David is joined by Nick
Cave for a swamp-flavored version of 'Sons of the Silent Age.' Cave
exits and David does solo versions of 'Wild is the Wind' and 'My
Death' accompanied by Mike Garson and Gail Ann Dorsey. David
announces that the evening is coming to a close and is joined by all
the evenings performers who stand behind him as he sings 'Rock &
Roll Suicide.' The symphony begins playing the overture to
Diamond Dogs which becomes 'Chant of the Ever Circling Skeletal
Family' and everyone sings along, the house-lights come up near
the end to reveal all 17,000 audience members on their feet and
singing along. Bowie cries as an enormous cake with 50 candles is
wheeled across the stage by Liz Taylor, everyone follows Liz and
the cake offstage and the concert comes to an end. ?
...just as a booming voice from the heavens rings out, startling
David out of his nap. He looks around in great alarm! It is becoming
rather confusing, trying to keep track of all these dreamings and
wakings, the various delusions of the past weeks. He looks around,
hoping to see his car and driver, his wife, his birthday cake, fer
godz sake....then he remembers, GOD! "David!!!" booms the voice.
"Your time filling in as GOD isn't up, and I find you sleeping on the
job? Sheesh, you're as bad as those dratted Message Board people,
who are always goofing off on the WEB when they are SUPPOSED
to be working!" David looks sulky, wishing he could just go back
to his nap...and his birthday bash. It was just getting to the good
part, concert over, backstage party time approaching. That
wonderful gourmet cake waiting (made, of COURSE, by Steve Kelly
at the special Swiss pastry shop in Philly, one of David's favorite
places!) Champagne, all the usual birthday goodies, missed, just so
this God character could take a few millennia off work!! But just
then, he sees Joseph K. approaching, carrying the ripped Kermit leg
and one Bowie-sized Ruby slipper. "Good heavens, get me out of
here..." David yells in alarm...
Bowie's eyes glow red and shoot holes through Joseph K's body
until he disintegrates. Bowie looks into the puddle of blood by his
feet. Horns curl out from his hair, he reaches up and feels the hot,
knobby appendages. Wings sprout from his shoulders. Bowie's
jugular vein pumps and bulges on his neck, his skin bubbles from
He launches into the sky, flaps his wings in tremendous blows. The
horizon burns purples and reds. The moon gray, almost blue.
Bowie lifts his foot to admire the three-toed imprint into the moon's
gray, scrappy surface. The territory is almost completely dark and
there is no current. Huge walls miles off and miles high surround
He tries to move his wings. There is something in the air, a sickly
vapor, hard to breathe. His legs give and he falls to his knees.
Moon dust shines white and descends like snow.
Brian Eno shields his eyes as descends into the crater.
Brian digs his hands into heaps of fallen moon dust. He leans his
strength in, and pulls Bowie's body out. Eno quickly snaps Bowie's
wings off, flicks away the horns with his finger. "David, David, are
you quite alright?" "Thank goodness, Brian," says David his voice
hoarse and straining, "You're always the one who... saves me."
"You're going to be alright," whispers Eno into Bowie's ear,
cradling his head in his hands. Bowie looks up at Eno with cute
puppy eyes, "I haven't felt this bad since I released Never Let Me
Down. Brian--hold me. I feel dizzy all of a sudden."
Brian holds David's fagged and battered body close to his chest
and presses his lips to his hair. David closes his eyes tightly and
breathes in new strength and courage from the comfort of his friend
and artistic collaborator. "What's happening to me, Brian?" he
whispers, "I think I've hurt Joseph."
"Don't worry about that now, David. He's had it coming for a long
time anyway. Listen, do you think you can untangle me from this
wire and all this glossy black plumage? I've been rehearsing my
entrance for your birthday concert."
David sits back on his haunches and notices for the first time that
Brian's gotten himself into a real tangle. For some reason, he has a
latex skull cap hanging from the back of his head with one piece of
Sellotape. Odd. He's bald anyway, thinks David as they begin to
extricate Brian from his feathers and wires.
"Come on, Spaceboy!" Brian chirps as he stands and stretches,
finally wearing nothing but a wry smile. "Your car's waiting on the
other side of the wall just over there. You can give me a lift to the
nearest tube station."
David follows Brian's gaze to what seems to be either an impossibly
high wall some three or four hundred metres away or merely a
horribly high wall some four or five kilometres away. A thrill of fear
passes through David, but Brian seems confident enough as he
strides off ahead through the drifts of moondust, and David begins
to follow him.
Brian is muttering the lyrics of "Third Uncle" in time with his perky
gait. At one point he suddenly sinks up to his chin in a particularly
deep drift of moondust. Apparently insensible of any danger, he
continues to natter as he hauls himself out, dusts himself off and
shuffles on towards the wall.
David is finding it hard to keep up with him. He must frequently
focus on the path he is taking, gingerly feeling his way forward to
avoid losing his footing. Every time he looks up, Brian seems
further ahead of him. He can no longer hear his friend's voice. And
the sky is getting darker. By the time David has walked for two or
three hours he can no longer see his companion. Either he has
fallen and disappeared beneath the moondust or he is so far ahead
that his shape can no longer be discerned in the pale light of the
David stands still at last and looks at the wall. He is very tired now,
and thirsty, and the wall seems no closer than it was when they
He decides to micturate. Transfixed by the patterns his urine makes
in the dry limey powder, he smiles to himself and begins to hum a
new tune. "Ahem. Excuse me sir, your car is waiting. Please follow
me." David turns to find himself standing hard beside the wall and
face to face with Elton John.
He quickly buttons his fly and follows the strange little man, whom
he hasn't recognized, to a tiny door in the wall. Elton gestures for
David to crawl through first, which he does. When he emerges on
the far side of the wall, David finds himself bathed in gentle
Hampshire sunlight. The wall behind him is now a high hedge.
Elton, snagged in the dense foliage of the hedge, is working himself
into hysterics. It is an unpleasant spectacle, so David strolls out of
He sits on a stone fence and gazes across a small green field of
newly shorn sheep. To his right, Evan Torrie is reclining against a
hay bale, wearing a latex skull cap and smoking a cigarette. And to
his left, Brian Eno is sitting in the back seat of David's convertible
with the top down, still naked and singing.
"Hurry up, David!! Stop dawdling. I'm already appallingly late,
thanks to you!"
David begins to walk in the opposite direction. If his memory
serves him, there is a brilliant pub known only as the No Name less
than a kilometer from here and dammit if he's doing anything else
before he slakes his now raging thirst.
"David, come BACK here! I don't DRIVE!"...
On the way to the pub, David encounters a young girl sitting at a
manacurist's table. He thinks to himself 'my god, I hope this isn't
another one of those teenage wildlife birds who throw themselves
at rock stars. Besides, I need a drink before I can go shagging
anything.' The young girl looks at David with tear-filled eyes and
asks if he would please have a seat. He obliges under the condition
that she finds him something to drink. Looking around her little
table, all that is available are tubes of nail polish and acetone. Argh!
Sneakily, she turns her back towards David, empties out a jar of
acrylic powder and wrings out her tear soaked shirt into it.
"Here you go Mr.Bowie, a fresh glass of...water," offering up the
jar. David takes a sip, thinks it to be curiously salty but doesn't
complain because there is a hormonal kid sitting in front of him with
a pointy nail file in hand. "Now what is it that you need little girl?"
David being the nice guy for a moment asks.
"First of all, I am not a little anything. I am now 16 and soon I will be
old enough to drive. Anyone who is legally allowed to drive a
potentially dangerous vehicle weighing a ton on the roads is not
little in my book. But aside from that, I need to give you a manicure.
I haven't had a customer all day (David looks around the
countryside and wonders why...) and if I don't give one by the end
of the day, I will be cursed forever to work at my mother's
manicuring table. Bye bye dreams of London and Pulp. Don't you
see Mr.Bowie, you are my only hope."
"Have you ever used one of those before?" David looks at the file
and at the cuticle scissors on the side table. "Well, this will be my
first time but I don't see how hard it could be."
Two hours and several bandages later, David is allowed to leave
the table. 'at least the paint job was decent' he admires his newly
painted midnight blue fingernails. A waste of time though for David
scrapes the polish off all but two of his nails on his right hand,
those being the middle and ring finger.
A white rabbit in a vest hops into David's path and impatiently
checks his pocket watch. The rabbit hops farther down the road,
stops in front of the pub and changes into a pair of satin boxer
shorts and boxing gloves. David looks slightly baffled and looks up
at the pub. A sign readsBoxers Only!!. He is incredibly thirsty
because the tear water wasn't much of a quencher. Shrugging his
shoulders, he takes off his shirt and pants and finds a pair of
gloves in the Juniper bushes by the walls. Opening the door, Let's
Dance blasts from a jukebox...
"ARE YOU STUPID OR WHAT" yells David, looking furiously at
Jacko. "NO ONE ASKED YOU! IF YOU DON'T WANT TO PLAY
TAKE YOUR TOYS AND GO HOME!!!" Jacko gets very small and
quiet and leaves....
The force of David's condemnation causes Jacko to stumble out of
the pub directly into the path of Lady Artist Minotaur (on her quest
for "Telling Lies".) WHAM! Unfortunately for Jacko, Lady Artist
Minotaur is driving her Saturn when they meet, so the abrupt
introduction is not a happy one.
"To Hades with your body! Look at what your stupidity has done
to my car! I'll never get 'Telling Lies' now!"
With that, Lady Artist Minotaur wrenches open the driver's-side
door, grabs her trusty sword, and steps out of the car. Intent upon
the painful demise of Jacko, she fails to notice the figure which up
until now has been standing in the door of the pub. A hand grasps
her shoulder and a divine voice speaks, "Hold on just one moment
dear!" Turning she begins, "And just why should I... Oh." the sight
of David standing just to her left causes her to momentarily forget
bloodletting. The sight of his boxers causes her to think
momentarily of that riding crop in her purse.
He speaks, "Come, come now, just because he's stupid doesn't
mean he needs to be executed. The world has plenty of uses for
stupid people, Congress for instance!"
"True. But he did wreck my car... And if you just let stupid people
run around they reproduce themselves! Let this one live and you'll
just have 10 more in a couple of years!"
"Well from the looks of the wreckage, I'd say he doesn't have much
of a chance of reproducing anymore. Let this one go, perhaps his
encounter will show him The Way. You never know, next week he
may just be wearing a laytex skullcap! And as to your car, I'll buy
you a new one!"
"Thanks! That's awfully sweet of you! Are you really sure you
don't want me to run him through?"
David nods. "If you say so. By the way, what's with the laytex
skullcap thing anyway? I'm afraid the look just doesn't go with my
"I'm not sure... Tell you what, I'll buy you a drink and we'll discuss
it, among other things." David takes her arm and guides her to the
door. (although the sign does say "Boxers only" no one would dare
try to force a minotaur to change her underwear.) "Oh, by the way,
is all that stuff they say about Saturn true? You know, about the
good service and stuff?"
"Yes..." Lady Artist Minotaur suddenly realizes that she's entering
a bar with the sexiest man she's ever met...
He escorts the Lady Artist Minotaur into the bar. They grab a
couple of seats and David taps the bartender on the shoulder. The
bartender turns around slowly. "Omigod! Hermione!" David
Hermione just laughs.
"You lovesick fool," she sneers. "You could have had me, but you
didn't have the guts! And now look who you're stuck with! Iman!"
She pours a glass of vodka and downs it in one gulp.
"But Hermione," David begs, "I still love you!"
Hermione laughs a demonic laugh. She suddenly begins to morph
into some sort of succubus.
"You are damned!" She screams. She points a finger at David, and
he disappears in a burst of flame. He finds himself dazed and
scorched onstage at the Madison Square Garden, with Alys at his
side, wearing a Tshirt from the Teenage Wildlife website.
David is in a daze. Last thing he remembers is Hermione and how he
loved her.. and all of a sudden, he's with Alys... all covered in
moondust and reciting her poems to him.
"Where the hell am I?" thinks David, panicking, not realizing where
he is.... Then all of a sudden, he hears people singing, voices (some
out of tune)..getting louder and louder...They are singing Happy
Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you! in their loudest voices..."Who on earth are
they singing it to?" wonders David.
Then it just hits him that he turned 50 years old yesterday. "So
stupid of me", he mutters.
And smiles to the crowd...he can't control his emotions and tears
began to well up in his eyes. He notices the people in the front row,
all wearing Teenage Wildlife t-shirts with their log in name printed
on the front. David realizes that they are all there, EVERYONE from
the Guestbook has come to his concert to celebrate with him no
matter where they come from . He grips the microphone and says...
Where are my slippers, you know i can't perform without my doggy
(Diamond) faced slippers! Ah good! Thank you. The orchestra
tunes up violins, drums, viola, double bass, haircuts, paint, cello
and brass. "we are ready, are we not? 3 clicks of the conductors
baton, silence ripples through the hall...
"Here in my car I feel safest of all/I can lock all my doors...oops!"
He says, with tears beginning to run down his cheeks: "Earthling is
just for you!"
He begins to sing, a special song just for all his beloved internet
"We love you Dave!" They scream. David stops singing.
"Don't call me Dave!" he says fiercely. The crowd subsides. Evan
Torrie walks up on stage, with a bouquet of dethorned red roses...