Teenage Wildlife

The Story Chapter Twelve

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

DISCLAIMER:

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.

**M.T.

Bowie slowly reaches out his hand and touches the being with his image. One long finger brushes the hollow of his throat. The being steps back and crumples to the floor, a lumpy nothing that reforms slowly, while Bowie watches calmly, into the forms of everyone he loves, his friends, family, bandmates, they all emerge to smile softly and then change again. Finally the form arrives back to the Bowie shape. They stare at each other with the same stare, measuring, cautious. Then the changing Bowie speaks, "You are no longer a mirror with nothing on it. Go home, Earthling on fire with the sounds of the ground. Go Home."

Both Bowies smile at each other and then laugh. Bowie turns to go and wonders as he walks away, 'Is it over?"

Ramona (I'm too stubborn to let to let this go!)

Bowie almost makes it to the door of Satan's throneroom, but then he remembers that The World Is Changing will most likely still be playing to the damned dancing masses. He turns to ask if there is a possible alternative route to get back to the Dread Portal without having to pass by the Really Bad Music circle, and when he turns back, he notices something different about Satan. Satan is no longer the spitting image of David Bowie. In fact, Satan now looks like a 14 year old Catholic schoolgirl, right down to her plaid uniform and knee socks. David is speechless. Satan laughs, and says "Don't looked so surprised. I can take on any form I want, after all. And you really didn't think I'd drag drag you all the way down to hell and NOT play with you more than that, did you? You've had identity crises in the past before, but now that I have you here, you'll not be getting away that easily. Here, look at this." Satan reaches into a file cabinet and pulls out a notarized document. "This here is the deed to your soul. It was signed in 1972 by your MainMan manager, somebody by the name of DeFries, and in exchange for your phenomenal success, he promised me your soul after 25 years. I'm afraid your time is up." David can't believe what he is hearing. DeFries had in fact sold his soul, and David had no clue about it.

"This isn't fair," David says in a shocked tone of voice, "I didn't even sign this! Tony had no right to sell my soul!" Satan shrugs his shoulders and says "Oh a deal's a deal! But don't worry, you won't have it so bad here. After all, hell does have the best musicians, and we know how to treat them right." For the first time David notices that Earthling is playing softly on Satan's stereo system. "I really do like your latest," Satan says "even though I have had a taped copy of it since the time of the MSG concert. But even the all-powerful Mitch Schneider Organization can not keep the Great Adversary from getting a hold of a promo copy. But the CD quality is much better."

David has heard very little of what Satan has said. He just shakes his head, trying to come to grips with the facts that he has just been informed of. Satan gets up from behind his large desk and moves around to sympathetically pat David on the back. "Come now, don't look so glum, I told you we always treat our musicians with respect here. After all, I'm really indebted to musicians, particularly those of the rock and roll variety. Without them, there wouldn't have been anybody to lead wayward youths astray. You don't have to mingle with the masses *out there*; you really do become part of the royalty of hell." David looks up at Satan, not quite believing what he's hearing. "Of course," Satan continues, "hell wouldn't be hell without some fun. Without some form of punishment. Every musician has to do a weekly show, and we customize each experience to really highlight each performer's talents. I'm proud to say that we're about to enter our 20th year of the Stripping Elvis Revue. Friday nights feature endless solos by John Bonham on his Casio drum machine. Sid Vicious skill on the sitar is showcased each Monday night, and we've just added Tiny Tim opposite Janis Joplin in our special Sunday matinee performances of the Phantom of the Opera. You yourself are scheduled to do endless elaborations on that little Young Americans medley that you did with Cher a number of years back. And you will..."

"No, stop, this just can't be happening," David finally says. "Isn't there any way that I can get out of this? I never authorized Tony to sell my soul, and I'm certain that hell couldn't use the bad publicity of going thru a lengthy, drawn out lawsuit over the legality of that written instrument. I know people who could drag this thing out ENDLESSLY." Satan leans up against his desk and mulls this over. He then slowly says, "Well, IF I do let you go, you'll have to do one of two things. Either find somebody willing to take your place. Or you could just tell me what on earth compelled you to use Frampton on the Glass Pumpkin tour?" "I can just tell you that and you'll let me go?" David asks, breathing a sigh of relief. "Just tell you why I used Petey? Why, that's easy! I used him because..." and then David begins to panic. He can't remember. He thinks to himself "oh no, I bet you some kind of Vulcan mind meld must have happened when I was in Ramona, because I can't remember! SHE must have retained the knowledge of why I used Frampton..." Satan clears his throat, waiting to hear what David has to say. David takes a deep breath and...

**Magienoire (for a man who has a fear of flying DAMN he's been shot around a lot!)

just before he can begin to speak, an enormous explosion blasts down the door and throws both Satan and David against the back wall of the throne room. The captives of Hell were revolting!! They had completely destroyed the speakers playing The World Is Changing, had blown up the TV's and slide show projectors, and had proceeded to relieve themselves on whatever was left. There were millions of angry souls crowded outside of the door. And at the front of this enraged mob is *gasp!* THE EVIL MARIAH! still clad in black leather and holding her whip.

"Oh GOD, not THIS AGAIN!" shrieks David.

Maria chuckles maliciously. "Oh, you didn't actually think that a little thing like being killed twice would stop ME did you? I am the ultimate incarnate of evil!!"

"HEY, what about ME?" growls Satan, who now resembles a mixture between Michael Jackson and Brian Eno (for whatever mysterious reasons). "I'M Satan!"

"Shut up, you!" spits Mariah, giving Satan a few harsh lashes. He promptly shuts up and hides his head. Mariah turns on David, who is trying to sneak out the door.

"Not so fast! Now that I have you here, not ONLY will I have you're talent, I'll ALSO have your SOUL! MWAHAHAHA!" She raises the whip...

**Starluck *impish grin*

.....Mariah is able to give him a few good lashes before the whip is literally shot off from her hands. Her hands explode like firecrackers and she wails in agony. Bowie merely boggles at this as he searches the room for the one who saved him. Brandishing a steaming gun, Stephen King walks in. "Hey, Bowie," Stephen says calmly, "was this cheap tart bugging you?" Bowie, in a sigh of relief, responds, "Oh, you have NO IDEA! She's been on my ass raving about wanting my talents." "Your talents?" Stephen looks at the wailing Mariah who sits in a puddle of her own blood. "She wouldn't know what the f**k to do with them once she got them, anyway. So she'd be an even BIGGER flop." Bowie only looks at Mariah, who sits and bleeds to death. "You know something, Stephen, I think you might have a point there, but YOU'RE a writer, what is something so HORRIBLE and so EVIL that we can condemn her to do for eternity?" Stephen holds the gun loosely in one hand and scratches his five o'clock shadow with the other. "Well, let's see," he looks at her hands, "I've got it........"

**Ramona...'The Revenge of the Cameroonian Stink Ant'...

"but it could get a little, um, sticky." Just then, the Evil Mariah begins to hack. Stephen and Satan look on as Mariah's eyes begin to tear with the force of her wheezing and coughing; David merely lights up another Marlboro. Mariah looks around with a troubled and confused glint in her eyes. She then gets up from her pool of blood on the floor and begins to climb up the ornate carving of the Tree of Life (complete with a bas-relief snake-and-apple motif) that is tastefully lit and displayed behind Satan's throne. Being handless, it is truly an amazing sight and a credit to Mariah's many talents that she can climb up so easily. When she gets to a certain height, Mariah stops climbing and bites down on a branch. She remains frozen there and, within seconds, a bright orange-tipped spike erupts from the center of her forehead. The orange tip of Mariah's spike begins to flake, and little dead Cameroonian Stink Ants rain down on the floor underneath the Tree of Life.

"Shit," says Satan as he reaches into his desk and pulls out a Dirt Devil mini-vac and begins vacuuming up the dead insects. "I hate it when these damn things get in my shag carpeting. It's a real bitch trying to explain it to the carpet cleaning guys." Stephen looks up at the once again dead Evil Mariah and tries to say something to David, but Bowie can't hear him over the hum from Satan's Dirt Devil. Just then, Iggy Pop, holding a rubber hose in one hand and a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich in the other, bursts thru Satan's door. He had heard the faint signal from Dave's *anti-prefabricated pop diva* device, and had just barely made his way to the bowels of hell. Iggy swats Stephen with the rubber hose and shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. He then walks up to Dave, throws him over his shoulder, and turns his little 5'1 inch body towards the door when...

**(Putz)

Satan's preoccupation with the stink ants in his orange and magenta shag carpet, patterned so that it would remind one of a lava lamp, subsides, and he begins chasing Iggy and David with his Dirt Devil. However, for some odd reason, he forgets to remove the little vacuum from the floor, and is chasing them on all fours, trying to ram the heels of Iggy's Chucks with it. However, this proves very effective, frightening Iggy so that he runs all the faster, while kicking up his heels higher and higher to avoid the voracious jaws of the electric beast. When suddenly, Satan trips, and the whirring of the Dirt Devil comes to an abrupt halt. "Awww NUTS!" yells Satan, realizing the cord has become unplugged. He turns back, yelling for an extension cord. Yet, Iggy does not realize that he is no longer being pursued, and continues bounding along the landscapes of Hell....

"No worries, Dave, we'll be out of here in no time...." "PUTT MEEEE DOW-OW-OW-OWN! ! !! ! !!! ! !! !!!"yells our hero, "AND DDONT CAL AL AL ME D-D-DAVVVEEH!" Yet, they continue on.

Hours later, and no luck.

David: "I think we're lost!"

Iggy: "No, we're not, I know this place like the back of my hand!"

David: "I still think we're lost, we've passed this lava pool THREE times already."

Iggy: "FINE, Mr. Know-it-all! Mr. I-got-to-be-God-for- a-day. FINE! Mr. I-Had-Sex-With-With.... FINE! Why don't you get us out of here, or better YET, try to get out of here YOURSELF!"

Iggy dumps our hero onto the rocky shores of a less-than-serene acidic lake and stomps away.

David: (muttering) "Some men, I swear, they think they have a compass implanted in their skulls!"

David surveys his surroundings. "Let's see, miles of arid desert, vultures in the sky, red cliffs in the distance, where the hell am I? Hell or Australia?" David notices a cloud of dust in the distance, whatever is producing it is moving quite rapidly "Great, with my luck it will be 17,000 Camaroonian Stink Ants singing Mariah Carey songs! Well fine then, I'm tired of running!" With that, David sits, facing away from the dust cloud, to await his fate.

Previous Next

Teenage Wildlife Home Page Bowie's music Info on Bowie Other Media Have your say! Search the Site Help me!

Toolbar (Interact)

This document last updated Saturday, 15-Apr-2000 15:37:50 EDT
Etete Systems