How did it come to end up like this?
A certain perturbed, blonde novelist found himself upon a stage of a certain bar in front of a not-so-certain karaoke machine.
He had allowed himself to be led to this bar accompanied by one pink spazzy pop star.
He had granted said pop star the requested bar version of the children's game 'Truth or Dare'.
One drink, one dare.
Two drinks, one truth.
Three drinks, another dare.
Four drinks, another truth.
Enough drinks to break an alcohol testing device, a certain perturbed, blonde novelist on a stage in front of a karaoke machine. He stared blearily out at the crowd, which consisted of his lover, two drunken old women who weren't wearing much clothing, one businessman sobbing into his cell phone and begging his wife not to leave him, and three very bored bartenders. Under the hot tracking lights, the handsome man had regained a slight sense of his whereabouts, but apparently not enough to make him realize just what the hell he was getting in to and he began flipping through the various songs on the machine.
Spicy Marmalade, The Rage Beat, Sleepless Beauty…Ah…Now here was something! How very ironic. Ha ha ha, not to mention, ha. Let's do this thing.
The music started.
The drunken broads catcalled.
The lover stared at the golden eyed man with such a great amount of…skepticism?? No, that couldn't be right…
The current bar-rock star began to sing…
"Start spreading the news
I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it,
New York, New York"
"OWWW Show us what you're made of, big boy!"
"These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray
And make a brand new start of it
New York, New York"
-Purrrr- "You're so fine, Mr. Karaoke Man!"
"I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps
To find I'm king of the hill
Top of the heap"
"You can be on top of me any day honey"
"These little town blues
Are melting away"
"Something's certainly melting."
"I'll make a brand new start of it
In old New York
If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere"
"Can you prove that sweetie?"
"It's up to you, New York, New York."
The music faded, and the drunken women clapped and cheered and cooed about how they wanted to do XXX and XXX and then finally XXX him. How encouraging to the young man.
He strode back over to his table, his intoxication finally beginning to wind down. The young boy sitting across from him had his head buried in his arms, though he didn't even try to smother the laughter coming from him.
"What's so funny??" The larger man slurred.
The pink-topped boy looked up and smirked. "You have zero talent."
A/N: Flame on!