I don't own WWRY, it belongs to Queen and Ben Elton I suppose, sadly. The lyrics from Bohemian Rhapsody belong to Freddie Mercury and Queen and I apologize for mangling them if I did. Drabbelish I suppose. Scaramouche muses on Galileo's death and the death of someone else. If the sentence structure's a little odd I apologize but I tried to write it like the way people thing, flowing together? Um, yeah.
Story:
Mama
Just killed a man
He was dead. Dead as her heart, deep cold in the ground with honors and tears floating around him.
Put a gun against his head
A Gaga. That's all it was. A brainwashed Yes-Thing once belonging to Killer Queen. An It was what she thought the killer was, a Thing- not deserving gender or a name. Recognition was something only good people like him should have.
Pulled my trigger
High tech laser gun, that's what Khashoggi had said. Something used by the Secret Police, cause he would've known. She overheard him talking to Meat, who had managed to hold at least some of her together. "SP issue," he'd said. "Probably stolen from their stock. There's a serial number so we could trace the supplier of it or something-"
Meat had cut him off. "Let Scara question the killer. She'll scare him, and I hate to do it to her but-"
Then Khashoggi interrupted. "But she'll have hate. And she'll want to do something, I think."
And she had questioned the Yes-Thing, getting all sorts of intelligence and whatnot for Khashoggi and the Bohemians to go after. Afterwards, she had simply slept and cried. The prisoner was still held, no one knew who should kill it, should it be killed?
Now he's dead
It had been killed in the end, by her. Seeking revenge for the death of her lover and her Dreamer. She had pulled the scared creature out into a tunnel. Growled at it, turned back into the monster she had been at VirtualHigh in Gagaland. Khashoggi like was what she been like, looming over the Yes-Thing with a knife and a murderous scowl, Galileo's leather jacket and a floaty black dress wrapped around her.
She buried the bloody knife with the corpse. She gave it the honor of burial, not gleefully being burned by someone most likely being her.
Why had she done that? She thought it was was he would've done. He had that god-damned sense of honor and chivalry like those ancient knights she'd studied in elementary classes.;
Mama-
Life had just begun
Things had been going good, fine, happy even. She was happy, he was happy. They had love, so much she thought it would suffocate her at times. Wrapping around her in a comforting blanket of Gaz.
God, how she missed that feeling. She hated it at times but now she wanted it more than anything else in the world.
But now you've gone and thrown it all away
There was something else too. But she'd miscarried, she supposed. Killed her child out of grief for its father. No one knew. Not even him, she'd been planning to tell him really she was.
Barely visible, she hadn't had a bump. But she'd gotten her hands on some Gaga test thing. BABY TIME! it had declared in bright pink letters. She had wanted to puke, and she did actually but she wasn't sure if it was from morning sickness or her result.
She had rehearsed telling him for weeks, muttering under her breath, and when she'd almost had her courage he was killed.
Mama-
Oooh
Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again
This time tomorrow
Carry on
Carry on
As if nothing really matters
But it did matter. It all mattered. Her lover, her Dreamer, her hope was dead. Deep cold in the ground with tears and honors floating around him.
Gods how she missed him. It was an ache in her heart, her stomach, her head, her body.
Scaramouche lay down and cried again.
Thoughts, constructive critism, anything else? Review.
