The Story Chapter Two

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 storms offstage.

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 underneath.

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 him.

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 moon.

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 began.

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 earshot.

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?

"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.

"My car!"

"My body!"

"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 horns."

"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 exclaims.

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 fans.

"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...