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"ONLY ON BTV"
-Fanfiction by RAVEgirl [RAVEgirl_669@hotmail.com]
-Bust-A-Groove and all characters are (c) 989 Studios, Avex Trax, Enix, Frame Graphics, and Metro
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~Ch. 2: JUST GETTIN' DOWN
The 3 Homeys exited from the conference room of the hotel, a cameraman stealthily following them. While Heat and Hiro tried to show off their sexy-ness to the camera, Strike ducked his head and tried to ignore it. He finally screamed at the cameraman, "DO YOU GOTTA FUCKING FOLLOW US EVERYWHERE?!?!?!?!"
The cameraman wasn't allowed to speak but he nodded silently.
"Jeez, what's YOUR problem?" Heat said. "You know, we're gonna be on TV, doesn't that kick ass?"
Strike pushed his shades up his nose with his index finger, avoiding the camera. "Don't you know who I am?"
"Duh," Heat said. He turned to the camera and pointed to Strike. "He's Strike. He's wanted in 20 different states for embezzlement, posession of illegal narcotics, armed robbery, drunk driving, sexual harassment, speeding, and -- hey, come to think of it, weren't you on America's Most Wantennnnnnghmmmmmmmph -- "
Strike clamped a hand heavily over Heat's mouth. "This damn well BETTER not be broadcast live. You edit that out, ya understand?"
Meanwhile, the cameraman broke his code of silence and hissed at Hiro, "Stop doing that!!!!" while Hiro sexily posed for the camera and was beginning to unbutton the buttons on the coat of his leisure suit, exposing his hairy chest.
Strike picked up the thin, wiry Heat and threw him into Hiro, knocking them both on the floor. "I've had enough of your shit for today. I'm going to my room."
"Yeah, go to your room and take a nap. You're gettin' cranky, sweetie!!" Heat said from the floor.
"If I were REALLY cranky, you'd be dead right now!" threatened Strike, who was slightly irked that Heat's falsetto voice sounded kind of like his mother.
"Yeah right!"
KA-BLAMMMMMM POW POW POW!!!!!!
"MY HAT!!!" Heat sobbed, holding his now hole-y beanie in his hands. Strike stood there holding a smoking firearm in his hand.
"Bang-bang," Strike said as menacingly as possible.
Hiro and Heat stared at the Head Homey with newfound respect.
"And what are ya'll lookin' at!" Strike addressed all the bellhops and tourists in the hotel lobby. "Ain't you never seen a gun before? Outta my way, I wanna nap." He shoved through the stunned crowd while fishing in his pocket for his room key.
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Meanwhile . . . . Not everyone had left the conference room. The majority of the other competitors still remained. The DJ was spinnin' something that sent a heavy thudding bass-filled rhythm across the floor.
"I don't know," said a middle-aged man, looking through a 40-page "Dancing Heroes Parental Consent" contract. "What about school, honey?" He talked to a little pigtailed girl.
"You can get me a tutor!" pleaded the girl (Shorty).
"Well, it seems rather dangerous -- "
(gunshots rang out from the lobby)
The father hugged Shorty tightly and was pressing her face into his belly. "DON'T HURT MY BABY!!!!!" he cried out.
"DAD CUT IT OUT," Shorty mumbled into her father's potbelly. She pushed him away and said through gritted teeth, "I'm TWELVE YEARS OLD now. I can HANdle it."
"I don't kn -- say what's that music?" Her father listened to the DJ's music. He suddenly had a flashback to his younger days of being a DJ, before he became a UN diplomat. He began moving his head to the music as only an old guy can. "Yeah . . . YEAH, I'm feeling this!"
"DAD STOP!!!!! STOP!!! THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE PRESENT AND THEY CAN SEE YOU!!!!!" She frantically hit her father in the arm.
"I'm just 'getting down'," her dad said, suddenly grinning. "Alright, you can compete. I remember what it feels like to dance now -- I remember the music. I remember the crowds and the lights, the recognition. But now I'm too old to dance! Shorty, your youth is a precious thing, I want you to enjoy it! You MUST sign up for this 'Dancing Heroes' thing!!! I ORDER YOU TO!!!!"
"Yay~!!" Shorty screamed while hugging her father.
"But be careful, Shorty. Don't get involved with those people." He pointed to the lobby where a young man of unknown descent with reddish-dyed hair was mourning the death of his beanie-hat.
"I won't, I SWEAR!!"
Shorty's father signed the contract and Shorty signed her name beneath his. Five minutes later, her dad's cell phone rang.
"Hello? . . . um, well, I know you said NOT to, but . . . I think it will be a good experience for her . . . I . . . jeez," Shorty's dad spoke on the cell phone. He held the phone away from his ear and looked at it. His wife just hung up on him.
"What did Mama say?" Shorty asked.
"She -- fully supports you, just like me!" lied Shorty's father. "I'll go now." They hugged again. "Are you sure you'll be OK?"
"YE-EEESSSSSS."
"Well, if you ever get lonely, just call me." He poined to his cell phone.
"I WON'T get lonely."
"Oh. Well, see you later. And if you don't win, that's OK, I still love you."
"I'm NOT gonna lose."
"That's nice honey!! 'Bye! I'll watch you on TV!!"" He kissed her on top of her head and walked out the door of the hotel, waving.
She waved back, but her wave was more of a "go away" kind of wave. Shorty wanted to be an independent woman!!!
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"ONLY ON BTV"
-Fanfiction by RAVEgirl [RAVEgirl_669@hotmail.com]
-Bust-A-Groove and all characters are (c) 989 Studios, Avex Trax, Enix, Frame Graphics, and Metro
=*=*=*=*=*=*=
~Ch. 2: JUST GETTIN' DOWN
The 3 Homeys exited from the conference room of the hotel, a cameraman stealthily following them. While Heat and Hiro tried to show off their sexy-ness to the camera, Strike ducked his head and tried to ignore it. He finally screamed at the cameraman, "DO YOU GOTTA FUCKING FOLLOW US EVERYWHERE?!?!?!?!"
The cameraman wasn't allowed to speak but he nodded silently.
"Jeez, what's YOUR problem?" Heat said. "You know, we're gonna be on TV, doesn't that kick ass?"
Strike pushed his shades up his nose with his index finger, avoiding the camera. "Don't you know who I am?"
"Duh," Heat said. He turned to the camera and pointed to Strike. "He's Strike. He's wanted in 20 different states for embezzlement, posession of illegal narcotics, armed robbery, drunk driving, sexual harassment, speeding, and -- hey, come to think of it, weren't you on America's Most Wantennnnnnghmmmmmmmph -- "
Strike clamped a hand heavily over Heat's mouth. "This damn well BETTER not be broadcast live. You edit that out, ya understand?"
Meanwhile, the cameraman broke his code of silence and hissed at Hiro, "Stop doing that!!!!" while Hiro sexily posed for the camera and was beginning to unbutton the buttons on the coat of his leisure suit, exposing his hairy chest.
Strike picked up the thin, wiry Heat and threw him into Hiro, knocking them both on the floor. "I've had enough of your shit for today. I'm going to my room."
"Yeah, go to your room and take a nap. You're gettin' cranky, sweetie!!" Heat said from the floor.
"If I were REALLY cranky, you'd be dead right now!" threatened Strike, who was slightly irked that Heat's falsetto voice sounded kind of like his mother.
"Yeah right!"
KA-BLAMMMMMM POW POW POW!!!!!!
"MY HAT!!!" Heat sobbed, holding his now hole-y beanie in his hands. Strike stood there holding a smoking firearm in his hand.
"Bang-bang," Strike said as menacingly as possible.
Hiro and Heat stared at the Head Homey with newfound respect.
"And what are ya'll lookin' at!" Strike addressed all the bellhops and tourists in the hotel lobby. "Ain't you never seen a gun before? Outta my way, I wanna nap." He shoved through the stunned crowd while fishing in his pocket for his room key.
=*=
Meanwhile . . . . Not everyone had left the conference room. The majority of the other competitors still remained. The DJ was spinnin' something that sent a heavy thudding bass-filled rhythm across the floor.
"I don't know," said a middle-aged man, looking through a 40-page "Dancing Heroes Parental Consent" contract. "What about school, honey?" He talked to a little pigtailed girl.
"You can get me a tutor!" pleaded the girl (Shorty).
"Well, it seems rather dangerous -- "
(gunshots rang out from the lobby)
The father hugged Shorty tightly and was pressing her face into his belly. "DON'T HURT MY BABY!!!!!" he cried out.
"DAD CUT IT OUT," Shorty mumbled into her father's potbelly. She pushed him away and said through gritted teeth, "I'm TWELVE YEARS OLD now. I can HANdle it."
"I don't kn -- say what's that music?" Her father listened to the DJ's music. He suddenly had a flashback to his younger days of being a DJ, before he became a UN diplomat. He began moving his head to the music as only an old guy can. "Yeah . . . YEAH, I'm feeling this!"
"DAD STOP!!!!! STOP!!! THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE PRESENT AND THEY CAN SEE YOU!!!!!" She frantically hit her father in the arm.
"I'm just 'getting down'," her dad said, suddenly grinning. "Alright, you can compete. I remember what it feels like to dance now -- I remember the music. I remember the crowds and the lights, the recognition. But now I'm too old to dance! Shorty, your youth is a precious thing, I want you to enjoy it! You MUST sign up for this 'Dancing Heroes' thing!!! I ORDER YOU TO!!!!"
"Yay~!!" Shorty screamed while hugging her father.
"But be careful, Shorty. Don't get involved with those people." He pointed to the lobby where a young man of unknown descent with reddish-dyed hair was mourning the death of his beanie-hat.
"I won't, I SWEAR!!"
Shorty's father signed the contract and Shorty signed her name beneath his. Five minutes later, her dad's cell phone rang.
"Hello? . . . um, well, I know you said NOT to, but . . . I think it will be a good experience for her . . . I . . . jeez," Shorty's dad spoke on the cell phone. He held the phone away from his ear and looked at it. His wife just hung up on him.
"What did Mama say?" Shorty asked.
"She -- fully supports you, just like me!" lied Shorty's father. "I'll go now." They hugged again. "Are you sure you'll be OK?"
"YE-EEESSSSSS."
"Well, if you ever get lonely, just call me." He poined to his cell phone.
"I WON'T get lonely."
"Oh. Well, see you later. And if you don't win, that's OK, I still love you."
"I'm NOT gonna lose."
"That's nice honey!! 'Bye! I'll watch you on TV!!"" He kissed her on top of her head and walked out the door of the hotel, waving.
She waved back, but her wave was more of a "go away" kind of wave. Shorty wanted to be an independent woman!!!
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