Chapter Nine: Pour Some Sugar On Sweet Child O' Mine Who's Proven That Every Rose Has Its Thorns By Giving Love A Bad Name (Whew! Told ya it was long! x_x)


The scene opens with all five members of Ömega decked out in combat fatigues and soldiers' caps, standing at attention around a rectangular wooden table bearing a massive world map with four specific locations circled viciously in red Magic Marker, as if preparing to rush off into battle. Roxy Oyama, also wearing camouflage, was pacing back and forth, barking out instructions like a drill sergeant and occasionally jabbing at the circled locations with a metal pointer.
"All right, Privates, here's what we'll do!" the super producer harrumphed. "First, we start out by invading Southern California when they're least expecting it! After successfully conquering SoCal, we'll leave to capture Rio de Janeiro in Brazil--but be warned, they'll be prepared for you by then, and you'll have to work twice as hard at taking over. After Rio, we'll fly to the other side of planet; first we'll march into Cairo, Egypt on the continent of Africa, and lastly, we'll end our conquest by capturing Venice, Italy! And that's how we'll take over the world! Mwahahahahahah!" While Roxy cackled maniacally like some cheesy comic book villain, Jennifer, the only person in the room dressed normally in a blue denim miniskirt and white tank top, spoke up warily, "Um, Roxy? You are talking about how Ömega will pull off their publicity stunt to promote the forthcoming Backlash album by successfully playing four concerts on four continents in one day, aren't you? I mean, this isn't some crazy plot for actual global domination, is it?" Roxy sighed, and impatiently brushed away a strand of dyed honey-brown hair.
"All right, all right," she grouched. "If you have to put it in those terms, then yes, I am talking about how the band will capture the heart of the public in those four locations, and not actual world conquest." A movement suddenly caught the corner of her eyes, and Roxy whipped around, snapping, "Hey! Private Shortbread! Quit playing with your gum, this is serious!" Morgan obediently put her chewing gum back into her mouth, sulking, "All right, all right, you big meanie." Roxy leaned back, satisfied, and examined the rest of her motley crew.
"Good. Now, as I was saying, as all of you obviously don't know, the rock band Def Leppard currently hold the record in the Guinness Book of World Records by playing three hour-long concerts on three continents in one day," she resumed her speech. "That's our target right there: We're aspiring to shatter that record into a million worthless pieces by successfully completing four-on-four-in-one. At the end of each concert, the band will finish off the show with an encore consisting of a mystery cover of the biggest arena rock power ballad in history! Any questions?" The band failed to reply, as Jericho--or Private Airhead--boredly picked at his nails, Rikki--or Private Assclown--glared none too discreetly at the super producer over his bottle of Jack Daniel's, and Pietro--or Private Toxic II (I'll let you take a guess as to who's Private Toxic Numero Uno!)--continued brushing his already perfect hair. Roxy leaned back, satisfied.
"Good. So no questions. Now, the sponsors have already been bullied into--um, that is, manipulated, I mean, convinced--into paying for all your expenses while on this mini-tour," she added. "And, I have also managed to sucker in--um, I mean, convince--several national networks, including FOX, CNN, and MTV into providing live coverage of the band on all four concerts. Now, as I believe I've covered all grounds, prepare to go to the airport at oh-one-hundred sharp next morning and take over the world, mwahahahahah!" she fired off.
"Fine, whatever."
"What's oh-one-hundred mean?"
"One a.m.? That's too frickin' early! Are you insane?!"
"Hey, who stole my earring?!"
"Which earring?"
"Will you just go and get ready for the promotional tour?!" Roxy hollered, and the band scrambled to get the hell out of there, scurrying to whichever corner they deemed safe, all with the common goal of getting as far away from the super producer as humanly possible.


12:45 a.m. the next morning...

It was a scene of tranquility, a rare sight in Apartment No. 666, as Rikki and Jericho slept peacefully in their respective bunk beds, Morgan curled herself up into a tiny ball on the living room couch, clutching her giant, psychedelic hot pink Mr. TB (it's supposed to stand for Teddy Bear, not Tuberculosis!), and Lance and Pietro were passed out cold amidst their blanket of empty and crushed bear cans. Jennifer, meanwhile, slept on a chair, a glossy magazine folded facedown on her knees.

Suddenly, a slender, chic figure dressed in a stylishly cut gray silk suit slammed the door wide open and barged into the trashed apartment, screeching through her bullhorn, "All right, Privates! Get ready to go to the airport and take over the world! Mwahahahahahah!" In other words, Roxy Oyama, Super Producer (and Super Evil Dictator), had arrived, to whisk Ömega away and take over the world (with their music). Unfortunately, however, the reaction that she got from the band wasn't exactly what she'd been hoping for. Morgan let out a terrified wail and nearly hit the ceiling, giant pink teddy bear and all, before shrieking, "Someone call 411! We're being robbed!" while Lance and Pietro slept peacefully on through all the noise. From his room, Rikki growled out something that the authoress really can't write down, unless she wants to push the rating up to R, while Jericho sulked, "Someone tell that...that Rachel chick to come back in eight hours so my hair can get its beauty sleep!" The only one with a reasonable reaction was, again, Jennifer, as she woke up with a start, upsetting the magazine in her lap which promptly fell to the floor. Covering up her mouth as she yawned, the pretty brunette manager stretched gingerly, before remarking, "All right, Roxy, you get the ropes, and I'll go wake up the band."

Fifteen minutes later, after Morgan had been convinced that no, it wasn't Armageddon, Jericho had been lured out of the apartment with promise of one year's supply of kiwi extract conditioner, a loudly swearing and kicking Rikki had been chained down firmly into a wheelchair and wheeled outside, and Lance and Pietro were finally roused from their beer-induced hibernation by a bucket of icy cold water, followed by one filled to the brim with scalding hot water, a bedraggled and exhausted Jennifer finally hobbled out of the apartment herself, locking the ruined door after her. Roxy, meanwhile, was calmly herding the now tamed members of Ömega into a luxurious white stretch limo she'd acquired, and Jennifer's eyes widened as she examined the car, before murmuring, "Wow, you certainly went all out for this little promotional stunt, didn't you?" as she climbed inside. Roxy got in after the manager, and was right away met with a gasp of horror, as said manager, seated all the way in the back between Jericho and Morgan and right behind the Toxic Twins, who took up the entire middle section of the limo, took notice of just who exactly was sitting beside Roxy in the driver's seat. A terrified Jennifer choked out, "You...you're letting Rikki drive?" Roxy shrugged, before muttering defensively, "Hey, some compromises had to be made in order to get Mr. Rock Star over here into the limo." She then added, as Rikki successfully pulled away from the curb with little incident, "Besides, it's just driving a limo. How can anyone possibly screw this up?"

Fifteen minutes later, Jennifer sighed tiredly as she watched the infamously belligerent Rikki badmouth the cop, and earn himself yet another ticket. Oh, well, she thought to herself, as the impatient Roxy yelled at the cop to hurry the hell up because they had a plane to catch, and was rewarded with the cop slapping yet another ticket onto the mounting pile of traffic fines, even if Ömega doesn't succeed in breaking the Leps' record of three-on-three-in-one, they'll at least be guaranteed a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records for most traffic tickets in under half an hour!


A massive swarm of media paparazzi was awaiting Ömega at the airport in New York, as Rikki finally succeeded in crashing his way into a parking space, taking up six spots before switching off the engine. Rikki and Roxy exited first, working their way quickly and efficiently through the crowd of cameramen and reporters. Out next was Morgan, who cheered and happily bounced her way out of the limo, a huge grin on her face as though she were an eight-year-old child who'd just ridden her first roller coaster. Lance and Pietro then got out of the car with no problem, Rikki's atrocious driving having had absolutely zilch effect on them (they're not called the Toxic Twins for nothing!). Finally, poor Jennifer managed to stumble and totter her way dazedly out of the limo, managing to look both awfully sick and murderously pissed off at one certain dark-haired front man for the wild ride to the airport.

As Jennifer hobbled her way dizzily about, Roxy quickly barked off some instructions before shoving all five band members in front of their respective cameras, while hogging up five herself and dictating off the band's mission to the hungry press hounds. Rikki slung his black leather jacket over his shoulders as he fought his way amidst the crowds, fixing his Patented Glare Of Death© on the cameras aimed at his face (and the one that the young MTV camerawoman was lowering and zooming in to focus on his leather-pants-covered crotch), before holding up one hand and extending a certain finger (here's a hint: it had to be blurred out for live national television), muttering grouchily, "*Bleep* off!" before stalking into the building without offering another word. Jericho, meanwhile, was trilling happily into the camera, "Well, you see, the way I tone my upper body is I start out with some simple warm-up exercises, like sit ups, push ups, and stomach crunches, before moving in to some cardio. Then, afterwards, I work on each body part separately, such as bicep curls, and tricep curls, and--" At that moment, the reporter finally cut in, mumbling, "Um, Mr. Locklear? We wanted to know your opinions on this tenacious, potentially record-breaking concert event of Ömega's. I'm pretty sure that the viewers of NBC aren't really all that interested in your work out routine." Jericho momentarily stopped rambling about shoulder exercises and protein shakes, blinking wide, clueless eyes as the reporter's words sank in.
"Oh. Well then, go interview that...Oh, no wait, I forgot her name! Oh, yeah! Go interview that Rena chick; she's taking care of all the boring details," he sulked, jerking his thumb to where Roxy was, gloating and basking in the glow of the clicks and flashes of hundreds and thousands of cameras going off. Jericho then turned his attention to the sea of paparazzi, cupping his hands around his mouth as he hollered, "All right, so where's the MTV crew? C'mon, you guys, I swear I won't beat the living *bleep* out of you like I did to that Internet critic of yours! Ugh, you really think I'd muss my perfect hair--and in front of live national television, too?!"

Meanwhile, Pietro was rambling to a hapless reporter who'd done the stupid thing of asking for his opinion of the mini-tour, "Well, you see, it's not easy being so absolutely perfect! I mean, for me it is, since I'm so much better than everyone else, but for most other people, it's a lost cause trying to attain this level of perfection! I mean, for one thing, they'd have to be a helluva lot more gorgeous than they are! And besides, it's not as easy taking care of perfection as one might think! Take my lustrous, silky hair, for example: Now, I owe a lot of it to being me, naturally, and my perfect genes (eventhoughmyfather'sanass*bleep*!) but you have to realize, it takes hours upon hours of washing, and rinsing, and special custom-made shampoos, and brushing, and combing. And, another thing, notice how soft and smooth my hair is? Well, that's because I use a special kind of papaya extract conditioner. Now, on to my perfect complexion..." While Pietro raved on and on about how perfect he was, the ABC cameraman assigned to cover the only female member of Ömega grumbled loudly, "Ey, wasn't there supposed to be some bassist chick? Where the *bleep* is she, didn't she get off the limo with the rest of your crew?" Lance turned around from the camera where he was following Roxy's instructions precisely (which where, and I quote, stand still, zip your mouth, and look pretty!) and hissed impatiently, "Look down!" The cameraman reluctantly lowered his camera a few inches, and saw still nothing.
"Ey! Ain't nobody 'ere!" he whined, and Lance turned around again and ordered, beginning to sound irritated, "Go further down!" The cameraman complied...and saw still nothing. Just as he was about to give up and go join the swarm of reporters chasing after a murderously pissed off Rikki Stixx--the most important band member, being the front man, and the only member from whom they hadn't gotten any marketable quotes out of, unless one counted *Bleep* off!--a chirpy, high-pitched voice whined from below, "I'm down here, you big meanie!" The cameraman swung his camera dramatically lower, and finally caught sight of Mini-Me Morgan, hopping up and down and waving her arms wildly about in an effort to catch his attention, sulking, "See? Down here!"


Waiting for Ömega in Southern California was more paparazzi and a surprisingly sold out arena with ten-thousand-seating capacity. Jennifer blinked in amazement when she heard those news, taking into account the fact that Ömega had yet to have their debut album hit shelves in record stores, had released a single that was only starting to gain momentum and climb the Billboard charts, and a resume that consisted of playing primarily to the New York underground rock scene. Roxy, on the other hand, wasn't the least bit surprised, as she leaned back, satisfied, smirking gleefully, "It's amazing how many idiots you can sucker into paying good money to see a band they've just begun to hear of play, if you promise them that they'll get their ridiculous grinning faces on live national television!"


The first concert in SoCal went surprisingly smoothly (if you can dismiss the fact that Pietro--who else?--slipped onstage over a silky pink bra and went diving facefirst, falling on his perfect cute nose and whining for an emergency plastic surgeon for the rest of the set)...at least until the time for the mystery cover of the "biggest arena rock power ballad in history". As soon as it was time for the encore, Lance delved into the familiar guitar intro of Guns N' Roses "Sweet Child O' Mine", while Rikki sang out, loudly and clearly, "Shot through the heart/And you're to blame/You give love a bad name!" Morgan just dropped her bass, looking confused, and Jericho ignored the lead singer and lead guitarist as he eagerly slid into the opening drum sequence of Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me". All at once, the band stopped playing, and turned around to glare at each other. Rikki was the first one to speak, opening his mouth and hissing venomously, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Pietro shot back defensively, "We are doing our jobs! What the hell are you doing?!"
"Hey," Morgan started to whine, pouting, "I thought we were supposed to cover Poison's "Every Rose Has Its Thorns."
Jericho snorted, before smirking, "No offense or anything, munchkin, but you were probably on one of your Spaz Trips when Roxy announced what the cover would be, because I distinctly remember it being "Pour Some Sugar On Me!" Rikki sneered condescendingly upon hearing the blonde drummer's words.
"You're one to say such things, aren't you, Mr. In One Ear And Out The Other?" he spat out in a bitingly sarcastic tone. "Listen, I don't know what the hell you all thought the cover was going to be, but as for me, I distinctly remember Roxy saying that the cover song would be Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name!" Lance threw down his guitar, glaring at the front man as he growled, "Maybe all that Aqua Net's gotten into your brains, Rixx, but Roxy told Pietro and I that the cover would be GN'R's "Sweet Child O' Mine!" Pietro nodded vehemently, adding, "Yeah--we even went out and bought top hats, for crying out loud!"

Fortunately, right before Ömega could turn the first stop on their mini-tour into an all-out melee, Roxy stormed onto the stage, huffing, "What the hell do you think you're doing? The audience is expecting the mystery arena rock power ballad, in case you've forgotten!" Upon hearing the voice of their trusty super producer, the members of Ömega turned around as one, before cranking up the decibels.
"Well, he said that--!"
"Hey, this is all her fault, for--!"
"I don't know what the rest of you are doing, but as for me, I am playing--!"
"Wah! I wanted to cover "Every Rose Has Its Thorns!"
"Hah! "Pour Some Sugar On Me" isn't even a power ballad--!"
"Hey, has anyone seen by hairbrush?"
Roxy, meanwhile, was taking this all in calmly, arms crossed over her chest and nodding along, humming, "Mm hm," every now and then. Finally, she spoke up, "Oh, is that what the problem is?" Lance took charge, as he scowled, before snapping, "Yes. You told Pietro and I that we were to be covering GN'R's "Sweet Child", but these people here seem to think that they're supposed to be covering either "Every Rose", "Bad Name", and/or "Pour Some Sugar!" Roxy blinked wide, innocent lashes.
"Why, what is the problem, then?" she asked. Dropping the bombshell, she proceeded to add in a sugary sweet voice, "You should all know by now that it's all four of those songs."
At her words, the band members seemed to drop their differences and agree on one thing, as they mumbled in unison, "Huh?"
"Didn't I tell you before?" Roxy feigned surprise. "You were supposed to cover Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name" in SoCal, Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" in Rio, Poison's "Every Rose Has Its Thorns" in Cairo, and finally, Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine" in Venice." The super producer allotted a total of five seconds for the band to digest this new information, before saying rather cheerily, "Now go and play "Bad Name" already! We're wasting some valuable time here just talking!"
"But that's not fair!"
"Hey, I wasn't even prepared for this--!"
"What the hell? You mean to tell me that I just spent the last sixteen hours perfecting the guitar solo of "Sweet Child", and it turns out that--"
"Aw! How come "Every Rose Has Its Thorns" comes in at second to last?"
"Hey, shut up so I can find my Aqua Net hairspray!"
Roxy bristled.
"Go and play "Bad Name", already, and quit wasting time!" she hollered impatiently, and the band eeped, before obediently scrambling to their positions, as the three guitarists hurriedly shrieked, "Shot through the heart/And you're to blame!" before Rikki dramatically sang out, "Darling, you give love...a bad name!"


The Rio crowd waiting for Ömega at the airport seemed to mirror the media hounds that had swarmed the SoCal airport, as the plane finally landed and the band members themselves hobbled dazedly into a waiting sea of paparazzi, all five of them looking like (albeit highly glammed out) zombies due to their jet lag. One of the reporters had the stupidity to holler obnoxiously after the bedraggled band, "Oy, do you honestly believe you can complete four concerts on four continents in one day?!" This time, it wasn't just Rikki, but all of Ömega who turned around, extended certain fingers (again, three guesses as to which ones), and growled out, "*Bleep* off!"


Jennifer watched worriedly as the exhausted young band struggled through its hour-long setlist in front of the jam-packed outdoors Rio crowd. Turning to Roxy, the concerned manager urged, "You've got to call this thing off! Look at the band; they're exhausted. They could fall ill at any minute now!" Roxy waved her hands back and forth, not in the least bit concerned.
"Oh, don't worry, they'll pull through," she assured in that nasal, phony Hollywood voice, and not surprisingly, Jennifer wasn't the least bit convinced. She bit her lip as she watched the band finally struggle toward the end of their set, and breathed a sigh of relief as it came time for the encore of a cover of "Pour Some Sugar On Me". Above all the off-key guitar riffs and erratic drumming, Rikki managed to holler out the lyrics, struggling to remember just exactly what they were.

"Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?"

Jennifer nodded along to the lyrics. So far, so good. Rikki had yet to add one of his infamously for the worse improvisations, and the band managed to lurch through the song without much incident.

"Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light
Television lover, baby, go all night
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah!"

And then, right before the chorus, disaster peeked its head again, much as it had during the first club date at Valentino's with their new guitarists. Only this time, it wasn't Pietro who messed up the lyrics, but rather, Rikki, who, suffering from jet lag, exhaustion, and a bad temper, grouchily snapped into the microphone his own made up version of "Pour Some Sugar On Me". Lance, Pietro, and Morgan, who were supposed to back him up, simply shrugged and went along with this bizarre new set of lyrics, not one of them knowing the correct version since they'd been busy practicing other songs. The only band member who'd rehearsed for "Sugar" was Jericho, and he was without a microphone, although even if he had been the one doing the singing, he would have probably messed it up anyway, seeing how he was, well...Jericho. Meanwhile, much to Jennifer's horror and Roxy's irritation, Rikki and the three guitarists shrieked out Rikki's made-up lines of, "Shake your boobie/Fake it up/Bake the bon bon/Break it up!" As the fearsome foursome delved into "Sugar's" self-titled chorus, Jennifer covered her face in her hands and moaned, "Oh, my God! Please, please, please don't let the crowd understand what they just said!" As if that wasn't bad enough already, Rikki went from switching the lyrics to skipping several lines and then messing up the ones he did know, as he turned the line of, "You got the peaches, I got the cream," into, "You got the bitches, I got the green!" making Ömega seem like a ring of wannabe pimps rather than a rock & roll band. Fortunately for poor Jennifer, however, God seemed to have taken pity on the frazzled manager, and few in the Rio crowd seemed to understand just exactly what Rikki was actually screeching so horribly off-key about into the microphone.


Cairo, Egypt...

Rikki stared wide-eyed at the massive crowd awaiting the band in Cairo, all gawking right back up at him expectantly, as if waiting for the dark-haired front man to do something. Which he soon did.
"Eh heh..." Rikki tee heed in dismay, before his eyes rolled way back into his head, and he fainted dead away, right on stage. The other, equally exhausted members of Ömega stared at their collapsed lead singer, then shrugged, and, as if seeing absolutely nothing wrong with it, promptly followed in their front man's example and fainted as well.
"Oh, my God," a concerned Jennifer murmured, as she worriedly dashed onto the stage to tend to the unconscious members of the band, sprawled out cold in various different positions. Roxy, meanwhile, had turned her back to the sight, and was speaking to the concert promoters on her cell phone. She murmured an affirmation of Ömega's collapse, before saying, "All right, who had Cairo at six?" After a pause, during which somebody presumably replied, Roxy cleared her throat, before saying curtly, "Congratulations, sir, you've just won the lottery." She then proceeded to add, as Jennifer was yelling at the EMT's to hurry up and get the band to a hospital, "Now remember, as person overseeing the entire lottery, I am entitled to twenty-five percent of your winnings!"


*Whew! This took longer than I'd expected! I'm actually kind of surprised that I managed to fit the entire concert into one chapter. Next time I update will be to wrap this sucker up...which means, get ready for Rogue's part next! Yay! ^_^