Title: Oh No, Not Another Modern Day Moulin Rouge?!
By Mountain Dew Lizz
Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge, but I do own the "new" characters
Summary: Yes, it IS another modern day MR! But this one takes place in the 1960s. Ooooh, intriguing!
Dedication: This story is dedicated to Baz! Long live the king of all that is squishy and shiny! And cheesy! Cheeeeeeeeese.
A/N: w00t! Yes, I have returned. I'm putting "Trip In Time" on hold for now so I can work on this. Yes, it IS another Moulin Rouge. (I'm addicted!) But this one takes place in the 1960s. So it's not quite Modern Day, but close enough, ne? Wink!
Oh, and…..
::: bla :::=memory
.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.
Christian Thompson flew down the streets of the City of Angels. In was 1964 and he was feeling ALIVE. His radio was blaring out the funky tunes he loved! He felt the urge to sing along with them, if fact.
"Cause baby, it's you!" he sang at the top of his lungs. He looked over to the side out his window at the next red light. "Yeah baby, it's you!" he serenaded the old man in the car next to him. The old man gave him a funny look, and Christian laughed. Nothing could ruin this day. This was the day he was finally rid of that man.
:::"You want to be out of here so much? FINE!" his father had screamed at him only the previous day.:::
"Good riddance!" Christian mused to himself as the light turned green. He floored the gas as he drove along looking for his new humble abode.
:::"Be nice to him, dear," his mother had pleaded. "He's young and doesn't know about the outside world."
"Yeah, dad," the young man's sister had sided with them. "You were always telling him how much potential he had as a kid. Now you're mad at him?"
"As a kid he had reason to write about love! Now he should know of better subjects to write about! I won't let our son become one of those HIPPES!" he spit out.:::
He kicked open the door to his new apartment since his hands were full. What he saw amazed him.
"Humble is correct!" he laughed. Strewn about the room were papers, beer bottles, and various assortments of items. The previous owners had left a few furnishings for him; there was a tie-dye bean bag chair and a paisley couch. On the walls were a few antique looking mirrors. Christian grinned.
"Groovy!" he said. But until he could sell something he would be living on the few things he brought and these things. He rushed back down to the car.
After about twenty minutes, he had successfully transferred all of his belongings into the main room.
"Now to put them in the correct places….I think I should start with my clothes." He picked up a box marked "Threads" and waddled over to the door he assumed led to the bedroom.
He opened the door and was hit with smoke and various smells from incense to cigarettes. He looked inside and saw that there were figures in the haze. One was a short man walking around singing. Another was a man who seemed to be from Argentina sitting in a chair hugging a scantily clad girl to his chest watching the short man. Another was a gray haired man playing with test tubes. And the last figure was a bald man sitting on the ground playing the bongos. Christian gasped and flew back, which made him trip and fall to the floor. The short man noticed and wobbled over to Christian's body.
"Hewwo?" the man said waving his hand over Christian's face. He had a lisp. "Hewwo? Are you awive? Get me the salt."
"No no, I'm fine; thank you," Christian groaned and managed to stand up. "But, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing in my apartment?"
"Oh, so you're the one!" the short man exclaimed. "We're a welcoming pawty!"
"Welcoming party?" Christian repeated.
"Yes! Welcome!" the man in the purple wig said. "Call me 'Doc. I like explosions!"
"Oh…"
"And I am Tawoose!" the short one said. Everyone could tell he was confused.
"Toulouse," the bald one whispered.
"Toulouse…..Toulouse!" Christian exclaimed. "I see!"
"I'm Satie." The bald one said. "I'm a musician."
"Groovy!" The young man said. "And who are you?" he asked gesturing to the man with the woman.
"They just call me the Argentinean," he said in a strong accent. "And this is my, um, FRIEND."
"Right…" Christian winked.
"And what is your name?" Toulouse asked.
"Um, call me Chris."
"CWIS! What a…..boring name!" Toulouse laughed.
"Um, my real name is Christian….." he said.
"BETTER! I wuv it!" Toulouse said.
"Can I offer you a drink?" Doc asked while holding out a hand which held some green concoction Christian sniffed it and recoiled in fear.
"What is it?" he choked.
"It's Absinthe." Doc said with a glint in his eyes. "It's like the nectar of gods!" Christian gave his a strange look.
"Come on, twy it!" Toulouse coaxed. "And afterwards, we can go and give you a towr of the town!"
"I don't want a tour.."
"Of course you do!" the group said pulling him to the door. What could he do? He let himself be led.
:::"You'll be taken to crazy dance halls and such! RESIST, BOY!" his father warned him:::
.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.
"Come on, just twy it!" Toulouse tried to pressure Christian into drinking the Absinthe. They had decided to take a "break" from sightseeing and stopped at a "café" to get a drink. Christian had noticed something different about the café when he first walked in, but he decided to pretend that he was just imagining things and went along with his new friends.
"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" he finally gave in. He lifted the drink to his lips and sucked it in. The taste was horrible at first, but then he felt a warmth spread through his whole body. He felt like dancing and singing all at once.
"This is wonderful!" he choked out. His new friends grinned knowingly.
"I'm awwanged a meeting between you and the head of dis café, Cwistian." Toulouse informed If only Christian had been paying more attention…..
"Where is she?" Christian asked.
"She should be appeawing soon," he assured. And just at that moment, one voice filled the entire room as the lights dimmed.
"Won't you meet me in the red room?" it sounded sultry and inviting, and yet smooth as satin. A figure lowered from the ceiling. It was wearing a lovely corset made of diamonds and a dress with diamonds sewn all into it. In the lovely locks of red on her head was a top hat with diamonds on it. And on even her eyelids there were small diamonds. The lights came back on so it would seem that she shimmered whenever she moved. Christian gasped.
"That's her," Toulouse said. "The spawkwing diamond!"
A/N: Good? Long? Good? Sixties enough? Please tell me how I did so I can get better!
By Mountain Dew Lizz
Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge, but I do own the "new" characters
Summary: Yes, it IS another modern day MR! But this one takes place in the 1960s. Ooooh, intriguing!
Dedication: This story is dedicated to Baz! Long live the king of all that is squishy and shiny! And cheesy! Cheeeeeeeeese.
A/N: w00t! Yes, I have returned. I'm putting "Trip In Time" on hold for now so I can work on this. Yes, it IS another Moulin Rouge. (I'm addicted!) But this one takes place in the 1960s. So it's not quite Modern Day, but close enough, ne? Wink!
Oh, and…..
::: bla :::=memory
.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.
Christian Thompson flew down the streets of the City of Angels. In was 1964 and he was feeling ALIVE. His radio was blaring out the funky tunes he loved! He felt the urge to sing along with them, if fact.
"Cause baby, it's you!" he sang at the top of his lungs. He looked over to the side out his window at the next red light. "Yeah baby, it's you!" he serenaded the old man in the car next to him. The old man gave him a funny look, and Christian laughed. Nothing could ruin this day. This was the day he was finally rid of that man.
:::"You want to be out of here so much? FINE!" his father had screamed at him only the previous day.:::
"Good riddance!" Christian mused to himself as the light turned green. He floored the gas as he drove along looking for his new humble abode.
:::"Be nice to him, dear," his mother had pleaded. "He's young and doesn't know about the outside world."
"Yeah, dad," the young man's sister had sided with them. "You were always telling him how much potential he had as a kid. Now you're mad at him?"
"As a kid he had reason to write about love! Now he should know of better subjects to write about! I won't let our son become one of those HIPPES!" he spit out.:::
He kicked open the door to his new apartment since his hands were full. What he saw amazed him.
"Humble is correct!" he laughed. Strewn about the room were papers, beer bottles, and various assortments of items. The previous owners had left a few furnishings for him; there was a tie-dye bean bag chair and a paisley couch. On the walls were a few antique looking mirrors. Christian grinned.
"Groovy!" he said. But until he could sell something he would be living on the few things he brought and these things. He rushed back down to the car.
After about twenty minutes, he had successfully transferred all of his belongings into the main room.
"Now to put them in the correct places….I think I should start with my clothes." He picked up a box marked "Threads" and waddled over to the door he assumed led to the bedroom.
He opened the door and was hit with smoke and various smells from incense to cigarettes. He looked inside and saw that there were figures in the haze. One was a short man walking around singing. Another was a man who seemed to be from Argentina sitting in a chair hugging a scantily clad girl to his chest watching the short man. Another was a gray haired man playing with test tubes. And the last figure was a bald man sitting on the ground playing the bongos. Christian gasped and flew back, which made him trip and fall to the floor. The short man noticed and wobbled over to Christian's body.
"Hewwo?" the man said waving his hand over Christian's face. He had a lisp. "Hewwo? Are you awive? Get me the salt."
"No no, I'm fine; thank you," Christian groaned and managed to stand up. "But, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing in my apartment?"
"Oh, so you're the one!" the short man exclaimed. "We're a welcoming pawty!"
"Welcoming party?" Christian repeated.
"Yes! Welcome!" the man in the purple wig said. "Call me 'Doc. I like explosions!"
"Oh…"
"And I am Tawoose!" the short one said. Everyone could tell he was confused.
"Toulouse," the bald one whispered.
"Toulouse…..Toulouse!" Christian exclaimed. "I see!"
"I'm Satie." The bald one said. "I'm a musician."
"Groovy!" The young man said. "And who are you?" he asked gesturing to the man with the woman.
"They just call me the Argentinean," he said in a strong accent. "And this is my, um, FRIEND."
"Right…" Christian winked.
"And what is your name?" Toulouse asked.
"Um, call me Chris."
"CWIS! What a…..boring name!" Toulouse laughed.
"Um, my real name is Christian….." he said.
"BETTER! I wuv it!" Toulouse said.
"Can I offer you a drink?" Doc asked while holding out a hand which held some green concoction Christian sniffed it and recoiled in fear.
"What is it?" he choked.
"It's Absinthe." Doc said with a glint in his eyes. "It's like the nectar of gods!" Christian gave his a strange look.
"Come on, twy it!" Toulouse coaxed. "And afterwards, we can go and give you a towr of the town!"
"I don't want a tour.."
"Of course you do!" the group said pulling him to the door. What could he do? He let himself be led.
:::"You'll be taken to crazy dance halls and such! RESIST, BOY!" his father warned him:::
.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.:'`*`':.
"Come on, just twy it!" Toulouse tried to pressure Christian into drinking the Absinthe. They had decided to take a "break" from sightseeing and stopped at a "café" to get a drink. Christian had noticed something different about the café when he first walked in, but he decided to pretend that he was just imagining things and went along with his new friends.
"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" he finally gave in. He lifted the drink to his lips and sucked it in. The taste was horrible at first, but then he felt a warmth spread through his whole body. He felt like dancing and singing all at once.
"This is wonderful!" he choked out. His new friends grinned knowingly.
"I'm awwanged a meeting between you and the head of dis café, Cwistian." Toulouse informed If only Christian had been paying more attention…..
"Where is she?" Christian asked.
"She should be appeawing soon," he assured. And just at that moment, one voice filled the entire room as the lights dimmed.
"Won't you meet me in the red room?" it sounded sultry and inviting, and yet smooth as satin. A figure lowered from the ceiling. It was wearing a lovely corset made of diamonds and a dress with diamonds sewn all into it. In the lovely locks of red on her head was a top hat with diamonds on it. And on even her eyelids there were small diamonds. The lights came back on so it would seem that she shimmered whenever she moved. Christian gasped.
"That's her," Toulouse said. "The spawkwing diamond!"
A/N: Good? Long? Good? Sixties enough? Please tell me how I did so I can get better!