DISCLAIMER

I do not own anything. I am impoverished. Otherwise, I would own all these spectacular characters. But...I don't. So here's who does:

Jimmy belongs to the Velvet Goldmine people. In case you're really confused, he is the old nasty groping man with a broken soul and NO RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING who groped Christian Bale in a seedy movie theater.

The Spandex-Clad One belongs to Marvel and Spider-Man and all those people. His character is based on Tobey Maguire's presentation of Spider-Man, so please do not confuse him with another Spider-Man.

The Youth belongs to the Velvet Goldmine people. He is based on the molested, anti-social, glam-rock loving character portrayed by Christian Bale.

This includes SLASH! Although why I'd have to give that warning about a Velvet Goldmine fic...

THIS STORY SHOULD BE READ ALOUD AT MAXIMUM VOLUME.

Jimmy and the Rose bed

Jimmy was a crusty old man who worked in the median of a busy street. This median was not just cold cement and metal, like the other chilling medians of the neighborhood. No, this median was different. This median was filled with roses, large and pink and red and orange and yellow and even blue, which some roses can be. If you water them with a nice dye solution, which is what Jimmy always did.

Jimmy knew a lot about roses. He'd spent his whole life caring for roses. Sometimes, though, he wished there was more to his life than dye solutions and pruning shears. Sometimes, Jimmy got lonely.

He had his friends. That guy in spandex who sometimes came off of buildings and stood there for a while, breathing heavily in an almost friendly way. That friendly pigeon with the deformed skull. Those little worms that seemed to cry Hi, Jimmy! Thanks for feeding us! His best friends were the roses, though. But roses can't talk.

So he spent a lot of time talking to himself. Because his friends didn't like to talk, Jimmy talked to himself even when his friends were around. His friends never noticed. The worms couldn't hear, the pigeon with the deformed skull had recently been run over by a car, the roses loved him only for his dye solutions and pruning skills, and his friend in spandex was always sobbing in the corner selflessly for the poor people corrupted by muggers and jewel thieves in the town Jimmy liked to call The Big Rosy Apple.

One day, after a particularly difficult day of pruning in the hot sun, Jimmy stopped to rest and watch the people passing by. He had enjoyed a delightful conversation with his friends that morning and was feeling calm and cheerful. As he watched, one lone figure caught his eye.

He was skulking in a corner, kind of like the guy in spandex, only he wasn't wearing spandex. He was wearing a sparkling purple blazer and adorable plaid pants which clashed with such beauty that Jimmy felt tears well up in his eyes. The young man's visage was rosy, although his eyes were full of sadness and tears. And running mascara.

The young man sniffled and wiped his eyes, leaving a large black trail down the side of his face and a bit on his nose. Jimmy felt a swell of pity for this poor youth, alone in the world with no mirror. He wondered if he should offer his own mirror, but realized that it was dirty from much pruning and would not compliment the beauty of the teary youth.

Jimmy leaned against his rose bed fence and sighed loudly. He clipped the air with his shears in friendliness.

he cried jovially to the youth.

The youth was British! Jimmy noticed this with a swell of excitement. He had always enjoyed British people. In fact, being British was the one thing all his other friends lacked. Jimmy decided he would make this child of the British Isles his bosom buddy. Jimmy had always wanted a bosom buddy, someone nearer and dearer to his heart than anything.

How do you like...roses? Jimmy grinned. He suddenly realized, with a swell of panic, that he didn't know of anything to say to console the sorry boy. Or indeed, anything worthy of falling upon the youth's delicately modeled ears. They were so...delicate. So...roselike.

The youth gave a wrenching sob. Roses remind me of a true love that has been torn from me. I have no heart any longer. No heart for roses. No heart for anything. Besides, I was allergic to the little fuckers anyway.

Although Jimmy felt a swell of pain to hear his roses denounced by such foul language, he had to admit that the words had fallen from beautiful lips. He decided that perhaps another way of looking at things was in order.

Well then, he began confidently, how do you feel about pruning sheers?! It looks like someone may have cut your hair with them...?

This was obviously the wrong thing to say. The youth looked even more dejected than before and attempted to hide his ragged, blue-tinged locks with a nearby empty McDonald's bag. Ketchup stained his innocent brow. Jimmy cringed. Those bits of fries showering the youth's clothing sure looked good, though.

Jimmy decided to give it his all. With a spry movement which gave him a swell of pride, he leapt the fence and embraced the youth with a friendly smile.

The youth blinked and made a slight gagging noise. The look on his face was one of terrific horror and pure repulsion. He tried to move, but Jimmy was clinging to him tightly. He would not let this youth suffer alone!

I...I can't breath, the youth gasped nervously. I...I don't know you?

His adorable speech patterns and pronunciation issues made Jimmy swell with even more adoration and affection. This was definitely his soul mate! His bosom buddy!

There was a thump on the sidewalk behind him. Jimmy turned, smiling. It was his friend in spandex!

Is this a rape or something? his spandex-clad friend murmured tiredly. I'm exhausted. All I want to do is go home to my art projects and my scientific studies in the basement. I am currently studying spiders, and it's very fascinating. Just, please, could you let him go?

Jimmy was taken aback. He had never heard his friend speak before! He swelled with excitement!

The youth seemed to agree with the spandex-clad friend. That's a very good idea, he squeaked, trying to pull away from Jimmy.

Sighing, Jimmy released him. He still had hope, however, for some joyful dinner party this evening with his two good friends. But when he turned, he saw a sight that brought a swell of tears to his eyes.

His spandex-clad friend was standing on tiptoe to ruffle the hair of the youth.

Your hair is so pretty, he sighed happily, clinging to the youth's slender waist.

Your...mask is beautiful. And I like art projects and science with spiders, the youth replied. Maybe I could help you!

Jimmy cried, leaping forward and brandishing his previously forgotten pruning shears with a swell of homicidal rage. NEVER! Yours is a love that can NEVER be! You both belong to me only! And separately!

The two turned to him, confused. Even though his spandex-clad friend was wearing a mask, Jimmy could still tell that he was confused. Jimmy could tell things like that. He sighed. Maybe it was time to let them go. But Jimmy felt a swell of doubt on that matter.

The spandex-clad friend clumsily lifted the youth into his arms, only to crumple in a shrieking heap.

We could walk, maybe, the youth suggested. If you'd take off your mask.

Jimmy gaped, feeling a swell of betrayal. His friend had never done that for JIMMY!

I'd...I'd take it off for you! the spandex-clad one exclaimed, ripping off the masking to reveal some horrible mask hair, Jimmy thought privately. But the youth seemed to like it. Jimmy had decided that the two shared dreadful taste. Unlike his own, he thought, swelling with pride and glancing down at his golfing pants and rugged gardening boots. You could tell they were rugged because there was dirt on them.

Jimmy turned away, crying silently. His two friends were in love...were kissing and hugging and being jovial...and he was still alone.

And his pigeon with the deformed skull was dead.

And the worms didn't love him, anyway.

And roses don't talk.

Jimmy sighed. He then directed his attention back to the more than friendly couple, who were now walking away into the sunset. He noticed that the spandex-clad one was still on tiptoe.

So, what's your name? the youth asked.

I could have told him that, Jimmy grumbled to himself with a swell of indignant passion. Although he realized that he...couldn't have. It was a deep blow.

squealed the spandex-clad one ecstatically. And...and...you are? He sounded slightly faint. Jimmy shook his head, feeling a swell of disdain. Kids today. Always sounding so damn excited.

I'm Arthur, the youth mumbled shyly, his earrings twinkling in the setting sun. Arthur Stuart.

Martha Stewart? Peter asked, moving away slightly.

No, no! Arthur! Arthur Stuart.

Oh, okay, said Peter, hanging onto his neck happily. He couldn't quite reach.

Let's go buy you some platform shoes, Arthur suggested. I know some good stores, he added. Because...I'm hip! I really really am!

I believe you, Peter said dreamily, staring into Arthur's mascara-ringed eyes. Let's go.

Jimmy sat down in the roses and stared bitterly at his rugged gardening boots, feeling a swell of loss and anger and even true deep grief. The roses stared bitterly, too. Maybe life wasn't so swell after all. His median seemed to be empty all of a sudden. Lost. Quiet. Alone. Like Jimmy. Poor Jimmy. Sad Jimmy. Useless, tired, grumpy Jimmy. Friendless Jimmy.

PASS THE WORD!

INFORM THE WORLD OF TOBEY MAGUIRE AND CHRISTIAN BALE'S TRUE LOVE! IT'S A BEAUTIFUL THING, AND YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT. THIS IS THE TRUTH. IF YOU DON'T TELL AT LEAST 5 PEOPLE ABOUT THIS AND SHOW THEM THIS STORY AND COMMENT, THEN YOU WILL NEVER HAVE GOOD LUCK BECAUSE YOU WILL NEVER HAVE THE LUCK TO SEE THIS COME TRUE. WE MUST ALERT THESE TWO OF THEIR DEEP AND PASSIONATE LOVE! SPREAD THE WORD!

FIN