The Chapter of Introductions and Apprehension
Alone in a dark, thin alleyway a young man lays on his side, his back to a wall. His face is dirty with lines left from the tears that constantly fall from his big, soft brown eyes; His self-cut Mohawk was caked with mud; His useless knees are pulled to his chest, his shirt not enough to protect him from the cool fall night. The few people passing by can hear a small, cracking voice singing out in an oddly melodious voice, "the world is ugly…" that same beautifully depressing lyric over and over and over.
Leaving a cramped, flashing club, a lanky man smokes a blunt. He inhales deeply, exhaling a smoke ring and laughing at it with a dripping smile. His clown-esque face paint is streaked with sweat. Upon realizing this he wipes a free hand across his face, only to frown at his paint-covered hand, the real emotions of his messed-up mind now completely obvious. Flicking his bloodshot eyes around, checking for passerby, he increases his walking pace, determined to get back to his hotel before anyone sees him. This thought disappears when he hears a haunting tune repeating in his ear. Turning, he knocks his head—hard—against a wall and dropps his joint. Had he forgotten to take his pills today? Motherfuck, this was anything but miracles. The voice continues, "the world is ugly...the world is ugly…" it was a new voice—a sobbing voice. Blood drips from the shaggy-haired druggie's forehead and he begins to cry. Man, he hadn't thought he had any tears left. Stomping on his discarded pot, he turns to continue towards his "home," he'd take a double dose of his meds when he got back. Sure the voices were playing his favorite song, but the song was nothing without the other lyrics. Then, a thought forms. Maybe…maybe he could make this voice stop. He begins to sing after every repetition of, "the world is ugly," in a deep, husky voice, "but you're beautiful to me."
The harmless "hobo" covers his mouth at hearing another singer.
The insane "juggalo" stops as well, coughing, surprised. Something like this had never happened before. The voice had stopped.
Maybe,
Just maybe,
He had taken his pills.
The singer was real.