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Rock Star
Topic Started: May 29 2010, 09:55 PM (62 Views)
the-pulse
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Meat Sucker
A small piece I wrote just for fun. The Idea came to me on the way home from the store. Its fairly short, there's only going to be 3 parts. This is part 1 of 3. Or maybe 4.

Mr. Cooper looked over at a stack of paper on his left; an assignment for his first grade students: "What I wanna be when I grow up." He chuckled to himself softly, thinking to himself how these things were always the same. Astronaut, cause I like space. Vet, cause I love my puppy. A+, A+, easy. Always the same. As he sorted through the stack of poor handwriting and misspelled words, a particular sheet of paper caught his eye: Jimmy Angel, "I Wanna be a rok star." Not rock, rok.
It interested him because Jimmy was an odd student, he was always really quiet, always did his work, wasn't rowdy like the other kids. Exact OPPOSITE of a rock star. So he began reading the paper, and despite the choppy sentences, the words seemed to flow across the page like the music Jimmy loved so much. "I wanna be a rock star cos I like moosic and I think the Led Zeplins are really cool, the coolest peeple ever."
A typical first grader, Mr. Cooper's logical mind said. But the words read different, sounded different, hell they FELT different to him. And so, with what barely felt like his own mind or own movement, Mr. Cooper pulled and envelope from his desk, folded the paper, slipped the mess of scribbled words inside, and closed it. On the front, he wrote "Addressed to parent of James Michael Angel, 708 Ashland Road, Prenton, MI, 13461.


June 8th, 1984, Jimmy Angel's 6th birthday, and a week after Mr. and Mrs. Angel had received the note from Jimmy's teacher. "He's too young," they said. "A guitar is too expensive," they told each other and themselves. "But it would make him so happy..." And so they argued amongst themselves, at least, until Mr. Angel had remembered the guitar his father had given to him before he died. So, they wrapped the guitar in paper with balloons on it, and they put a bow on it, and wrote "for our Jimmy" on the card.
The look on his face said all they needed, as he started to peel away the cursed layers of paper with balloons. His eyes widened in surprise, in wonder, and he squealed as an adult would if they had won the lottery, because to be a rock star was what Jimmy dreamed of. As the finally strip of paper fell away, he clutched the guitar with glee, like it was his child. IT was as big as he was, but he didn't care, and he held on to it cause he wanted to be a rock star and be like AC/DC and other cool bands and hear people sing his songs.
And so, he laid the guitar on the ground, and played. It sounded to him like bees, like short, choppy bees in flight, and he hated it. And it stung him like a bee, his eyes welled up as the smallest string cut into his soft, fleshy finger, and made him bleed. Suddenly, he felt that he didn't want to be a rock star anymore. He broke out in tears, and Mr. Angel carried him away, leaving the old guitar frowning on the ground. Mrs. Angel looked on sadly, then picked up the guitar, laid it into its soft velvet tomb, and closed it shut.
Jimmy cried in the other room as she carried it into her bedroom, propping it up in the closet. And in the next few weeks, Jimmy quickly forgot about how he wanted to be like the Zeppelins, like Ac/DC and the What, and play music, and have the world sing and play with him.
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