Karaoke…of Death!
Chapter Eleven: Followers Just Wanna Be Scum! (The Follower Finale!)
Song Source: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper
AN: Hell, you knew it was coming eventually. I am getting off of my lazy fanfic ass and finishing this fic. I mean, for the love of St. Gettysburg, it's been over a year.
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Well, it was getting late, and the cast of Daughters of the Moon had been delayed in continuing their strenuous epic battle of good vs evil, light vs dark, not dark vs not light, smooth vs rough, mucus vs peach fuzz, dandelions vs petunias, dogs vs-
Cast of DOTM: Get on with it!
Oh, fine.
Anyways, it was time for the spectacular evening to draw to a close, which sadly meant there was only time for two great karaoke finales!
Stanton approached the microphone, some type of brandy glass in his hand, "Well, hic, It's been a great, hic, show, but sadly, hic, we Followers have to make our nine o'clock, hic, bedtime." He tapped the mike, and called out in an oddly ironic heroic voice, "FOLLOWERS ASSEMBLE!"
There was this awkward pause between Morgan, Cassandra, Tymmie, Karyl, and Lambert, yes Lambert, as they all looked between each other.
"Uh, so do you think he wants us to go onstage?" Asked Tymmie, absently scratching the back of his head.
"I, uh, think so?" Responded Morgan.
Stanton, totally oblivious to all this, was standing with his head looking to the ceiling and his arms up in the air onstage.
Cassandra shrugged, "What the hell?" she said, getting up and walking to the stage, not without shaking her little tush on the catwalk, cuz she's too sexy for this-
Ha. Ha. Got ya.
Anyways, she approached the stage. Feeling rather impatient, she stomped her awesomely styled pumps on the stage, "Guys!" She whined, "Come on."
The following Followers looked at each other and shrugged, "Why not?" they all muttered and approached the stage.
Stanton tapped the microphone, having just miraculously sobered up, "Okay, this totally awesome song is entitled, Followers Just Wanna be Scum!" His voice became husky and he pointed out into the crowd, "This one goes out to my Serena." He tried to make a seductive face, but it ended up looking more like a mix between someone who was constipated and someone who was in the middle of a seizure.
The club became darkened, and then suddenly, a disco-oriented light scheme came into effect, and all the Followers had enormously big hair, spandex, and bangles. Lambert actually looked quite similar to the keyboardist from A Flock of Seagulls.
Stanton leaned into the microphone, doing grand gestures with his hands.
Stanton: I came home in the searing moonlight
The Atrox tells me to prepare to fight
We inspire fear and steal hope by the tons
And Followers, they wanna be scum-
Oh Followers just wanna be scum!
Cassandra sauntered up to the stage, a microphone in hand.
Cassandra: We ambush people in the dark of night
Taking children's candy and ignoring their rights
Those pesky Daughters try to ruin our fun
But Followers, they wanna be scum-
Oh Followers just wanna-
At this, Tymmie cut in and got down on his knees, his voice oddly enough a high falsetto.
Tymmie: That's all they really want!
To be scu-um!
Karyl then strode up, his hair in a gigantic perm, and wearing a tight, lime-green, zebra patterned, pair of spandex pants. The girls in the room had to physically fan themselves with their hands in order to protect themselves from his radioactive sex appeal.
Karyl: The Atrox wants me to continue their plight
But I'm starting to see my schedule's tight
Between jaywalking and showing cops my bum
And Followers, they wanna be scum-
Oh Followers just wanna be scum!
Morgan was next, wearing cheetah pants that clashed horribly with her gold hoops. She gave a rather scandalous wink to Collin.
Morgan: Atrox wants my plans strategized,
But it's wasting the time I use to accessorize
Looking this good is distracting to some
But Followers, they wanna be scum-
Oh Followers just wanna—
Tymmie: That's all they really want!
To be scu-um!
When beating the Daughters is done,
Followers- just wanna to be scum!
Oh Followers just wanna be scu-um!
There was a non-flowing, graceful piano interlude, as the spotlight narrowed on Lambert, behind the keyboards. He had this weird, fluffy pirate look going for him and magnificently groomed hair covered his left eye in a rather new-wavy, angstful fashion.
Lambert: Some minions take a beautiful plan
And ruin it all when the shit hits the fan,
I want to be the one to throttle them for being dumb,
Oh Followers, they wanna be scum!
Oh Followers, just wanna be-
Tymmie: That's all they really want!
To be scu-um!
When beating the Daughters is done,
Followers- just wanna be scum!
Oh Followers just wanna be scu-um!
The beauteous music began to fade, and the lights dimmed, leaving the shadows of the Followers as they let their voice carry in an echo.
Followers: They just wanna…
They just wanna…
They just wanna…
They just wanna…
The music finally drew to a close, and the Daughters were more confused than ever.
"That was…slightly creepy," Catty commented.
Serena scratched her head, "I know! Stanton? Wearing an outfit that clashes and is poorly color-coordinated? Something is dreadfully amiss!"
"Who was that total hunk in the zebra pants?" Vanessa pondered aloud.
There was a collective head-shaking-in-disapproval across the room in Vanessa's general direction.
"Now that's just wrong," Maggie commented.
It was then that the cast of DOTM noticed a violently sobbing fanfic author in the corner, clutching herself in the fetal position.
"Um…Nym?" Chris started out gently, cautiously making his way over, "Are you ok?"
"It…it…it was just…." She hiccupped in betwixt sniffles, "So…So beautiful!"
Chris scratched his head, "Are you sure? I mean, it was completely devoid of the raw artistic passion that Lambert's number held."
"Or the peppy dance routines in mine!" Tianna chirped.
"Or the catchy chorus in ours!" Hector and Penelope said in unison.
"Or the-" Collin began.
"I get it!" Nym outburst, "But this one had them…in spandex."
Everyone paused in contemplation of this fact.
"Hmm," Jimena said, "I see your point."
Their important conversation was interrupted when a finger tapped itself against a microphone.
"Well, it's been uh, fun," Stanton called from onstage. "In a demeaning and humiliating way." He muttered.
"But it's time we mosey!" Tymmie stated matter-of-factly.
Nym's eyes widened, "But Tymmie! You can't leave! I haven't gotten a lock of your hair yet to put in my alter, I mean museum, I mean uh, alter!"
Tymmie sent a side-glance to Karyl, "Creepy." He muttered.
Karyl nodded, "I concur. Let's blow this Popsicle joint."
Tymmie arched an eyebrow in confusion, "That doesn't make sense."
"Enough of this nonsensical ballyhoo!" Cassandra cried, snatching the mike from Stanton, "We're leaving and that's that! We will not be slaves to your diabolical, omnipotent will any longer!"
"Can't you at least stay for the final finale?" Nym pouted, "Pwease?"
There was a collective sigh, "Oh all right." They mumbled in defeat, becauseshucks, the word 'pwease' is so gosh-golly-darned cute.
"But no more zebra pants." Karyl stated.
"Or piano interludes," Lambert agreed.
"Deal!" Nym chirped, happy to once again get her way.
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Ohmygollygosh! Follower Finale up!
Next: Daughter's Finale…and awards!