Purple Fear and Brown Cascade

It was so fucking loud in there, I couldn't hear myself think. Whoever was manning the DJ booth was royally fucking up my tables, and I was going to kill them…as soon as I could get to them, at least. The bar was practically busting at the seams, and I kept getting blocked by sweaty bodies. I was starting to get claustrophobic. As I finally made it to the first steps that led up to the stage, I felt a cold hand clamp down onto my wrist.

Oh shit.

"Where do you think you are going?" Rose yelled at me. She had spun me around with an inhuman strength to face her. She was dressed as the witch Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.

I almost didn't recognize her. Her blonde locks were hidden from view inside her headpiece, her makeup dark and bold. Her bright blue eyes were on fire as she pulled me up the steps to the stage. She had a microphone in her hand, and the entire bar's attention was turned to us. My flight instincts kicked in hard, and I almost pulled my arm out of its socket trying to wrench it free.

"Did I not say that this was a costume party?" Her voice, dark and slightly crazed, echoed off the walls. The crowd was shocked into complete silence, and I could hear my heart beating a mile a minute. "Did the invitations not say 'No admittance without a costume'?" She was fully enraged, and I feared for my life.

Rose shoved me violently into a chair on the stage. So hard, in fact, that the chair rocked back and slammed onto the stage floor. The wind was knocked out of me, and all I could see were the stage lights, bright and blinding. Air finally filled my lungs, and I saw Rose's horned head peer over me. I wanted to run. But the way I had fallen it was going to take some effort. I could just hear the audience laughing and murmuring.

I couldn't see her, maybe that was for the best. "Mr. Cullen! If you can't follow my rules in my club," Rose started, her voice smooth as silk as she played to the audience, "perhaps I shall teach you some manners!"

Rose stood between my legs and the legs of the hard wooden chair. She leaned over, making damn sure that I saw her. Hot, bright white light sparkled against cold steel; a blade. It reflected light all over the place, including my eyes, blinding me once again.

Before I knew it, I felt two strong pairs of hands came seemingly out of nowhere, gripping my arms and holding me down in the upturned chair. I struggled hard against the hands, but they just seemed to get tighter. Rose leaned back a bit, and I felt hands taking hold of my belt. I felt the leather of the belt rip against the skin of my back as it was torn out of the belt loops. Sucking in air as the burn subsided I could hear the audience catcall and holler. I felt wind violently pass my face as Rose swung my belt around, and I could hear it hit a wall over my head. I didn't know what she had in mind, but I sure as hell was done playing. I started to scream only to have a hand clamped over my mouth, and another hand press its body weight onto my chest. I don't know who was on the stage with us, but there had to be a lot of people for as many hands were touching me right now. It was so hard to breathe.

I felt Rose's hands down by my pants and heard the sound of cloth ripping. Cool air touched my boxer-clad leg and made me jump, but that only caused the unfamiliar hands to tighten more.

I started to whimper in fear as I realized that Rose was touching my dick. This was turning into a really fucked up version of Misery. I wanted out of this shit, now!

I knew I was sweating from the lights and the sweat was getting into my eyes and stinging. I could feel my face turning beet red from my screaming and the hot lights. But no one could make out what I was saying because of the hand still over my mouth and I was starting to get dizzy from oxygen deprivation. I tried to block out whatever Rose was doing. Suddenly I felt cold steel touching me.

Before I knew it, Rose lunged on top of me, and I felt a dull and slightly painful throbbing in my groin. She quickly grunted, and the pain increased to a thousand times the intensity. All I could feel was pain, white hot and searing. I wanted to vomit. I retched against the hand over my mouth a few times and all I could feel, breathe, taste, smell, and see was pain.

I started to shake uncontrollably. I felt something hot fall into my ears, and realized it was my own tears, falling from my eyes. Sobs were ripping from my chest. I couldn't help it; I was so scared. I was going to die and I knew it.

I heard pounding just above my head on the wall at the back of the stage. Rose was back there hammering something. The hammer falls made me shake more through my pain.

When she was finished she took a step back so the audience could see her handiwork. A roar of approval erupted from crowd and I looked to see what they were approving of just before the blackness took me over.

My manhood. Nailed to the wall.

--

My body shook violently, ripping me out of the daymare my musings had morphed into. My hands instinctively went to my crotch to make sure I was intact. I was safe. Whole. And I was still in my Volvo, parked in front of the costume shop.

I let out the breath I was holding. It came out slow and shaky.

Fuck me.

I blinked hard and straightened up in my seat, put on my seatbelt, and drove home to get ready.

--

The house was still relatively quiet when I pulled back in, and I was able to get back into my room without running into either of my roommates. I threw the black garment bag into the bottom of my closet and flipped it off, which did make me feel just a little bit better. Fucking stupid piece of shit.

I paced a bit in my room before deciding that I would just have to man up and face the music. So I didn't have a costume. So what? Fuck it. I'd wear what I wear for every gig: white wife-beater, black tee-shirt, and beat up jeans I wore so often that the back pocket bore a wallet-shaped indentation. It was going to have to do, I thought as I shut my door and headed down to the kitchen.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at." I spun in my tracks and saw Jasper in full Mad Hatter regalia. He did a little pirouette to show off. "That's very nice," I said, mystified but amused.

Jasper rounded back to look at me and his expression changed from goofy glee to a more serious What the fuck? "Where the hell is your costume, Ed?"

"Oh, I'm gonna put it on at the club," I lied through my teeth, hoping it was convincing enough.

After what felt like hours, Jasper replied, "Good deal." Either I was a good liar, or Jasper was a gullible fuck.

Then the unbelievable happened. Stomping down the hall was an abominable snowman with cat ears, a fluffy tail, and the face of Emmett "I-Eat-Pussy-For-Lunch" McCarty. Jasper and I stopped dead in our tracks, staring as he joined us in the kitchen.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Emmett demanded, gesturing to me with a spray-painted gold stick with what looked like a ball of duct tape stuck onto one end.

"My costume didn't fit," I said. YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT! I quickly realized my gaffe and tried to cover it up. "Besides, I'm working, so I figure I can get away with not wearing one." I gave Jasper a sidelong glance, and I knew I had been caught. Hopefully he cared enough about not damning me to a horrible end to keep his mouth shut.

"Motherfucker, you better sleep with your eyes open the next few weeks," Emmett threatened, but it was hard to take him seriously when he was clad in footie pajamas and red Chuck Taylors. It was truly a sight. In some ways it distracted me from the upcoming removal of my testicles at the hands of Rosalie Hale. I was going to miss my balls. We'd had so many good times together...

Jasper's voice broke me out of my wistful ruminations on my soon-to-be-departed manhood; I shivered at the horrific memory. "More to the point, what are you wearing?" The smile was getting so big on Jasper's face, I could have sworn he was the Cheshire Cat, not the Mad Hatter. "What are those…footie pajamas? No, wait, let me guess. The dormouse. You wanted to match me. Awwwww…I always knew we'd end up dating eventually."

"Shut the fuck up, Whitlock. I'm Max."

What? Like fucking Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber, Jasper and I gave him matching blank looks.

"Max. From Where the Wild Things Are."

Fuck me. Emmett could read? Where the fuck did he get this shit from?

"Jesus, close your mouths. You're drawing flies. And catch up on the classics," he retorted.

"What...Why do you have that?" I stood there, arms folded, thrown for a loop by this new, literate Emmett. Jasper, Cheshire-Cat grin still intact, was taking in the white beast before us, making sure he memorized this vision of Emmett for the next time we needed revenge fodder.

"It's left over from college. What the fuck does it matter? You wanted a costume, I have a costume," he said, shoving the gold "scepter" into my face.

"It's got a butt flap!" Jasper exulted joyfully from behind Emmett, pointing to the tail on the ass end of the costume.

"Seriously? You're wearing a fifty-gallon top hat and you're laughing at my butt flap?"

"All right, all right," Jasper soothed, throwing his hands up to back Emmett down.

"Are we getting out of here or what? Let's get this over with," Emmett groused as he slapped on a paper Burger King crown. Jasper and I came undone with laughter, barely able to hear Emmett's voice telling

us to "keep laughing, motherfuckers", as he made it down to my car.

Jasper had tears streaming down his face. "Oh, Ed! Between that and your ghetto-fabulous excuse for a costume---"

"Shut your FACE, Whitlock!" I tackled Jasper, wrenching his arm behind his back until he gasped out, "Uncle! You smell like roses! UNCLE!" He was still laughing despite his position. If Emmett heard any of this, I would be wearing that stupid fucking wizard costume all night, even if Emmett had to knock my ass out and dress me himself to make it happen. Fuck that.

"The shop screwed up," I muttered, pulling myself off Jasper and helping him to his feet.

"What do you mean?"

"They didn't pack the right costume. I got sent home with the fucking wizard costume."

"NO!" Jasper's face fell in shock. He tried to hide it, but it was too fucking late: the left side of his mouth drew long.

"Son of a bitch. If you tell McCarty, I will destroy you," I said, my teeth clenched so hard I thought they were going to crack. All I could think about was Halloween the year that stupid movie came out, and Emmett thought it would be funny to Photoshop my head on the actor's body that played the magician. Then he sent it to my work, where Yorkie thought it was a riot and sent it around the station. I was so livid. I think it made it to the station's MySpace page with the headline "WE KIDNAPPED A WIZARD," so I wasn't about to give Mr. McCarty the upper hand once again.

I pointed out the door and we joined Emmett, who was yanking on the locked passenger side of the Volvo. "Easy, cocksucker, that's my car! You want to go yank on something, go yank on your own shit, in your own room," I yelled at the yeti, unlocking the doors and getting inside. Jasper chuckled as he sat behind me, and we were soon on the road.

--

We arrived at the bar early; there were only a few bar workers walking around setting up things. The bar looked nothing like my dream. Thank God.

The stage was huge, the pricey speakers camouflaged by the black fabric covering the back wall, matching the curtains that were on either end of the stage. The table my rig was set up on was lined with long silver fringe that hid all the crates and bags under the table. A large disco ball was over my head, and signs proclaiming "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" were all over the place.

I almost shit a brick when I hopped up on the stage and saw that someone had put generous amounts of glitter everywhere on the table with my equipment. And I do mean every-fucking-where. Well, it wouldn't be the first time a DJ had finished a gig with glitter falling out of every crevice. I brushed off what I could and ended up just getting myself covered in silver sparkles. Fuck. Now I looked like Studio 54 had vomited all over me. Wonderful. I grumbled curse words until I felt a touch better. I pulled out my MacBook and the four iPods I had secured for the gig and set them up.

From somewhere in the fog, I heard Emmett bellow if he could have a cupcake. I would've told him to take six, which would maybe start to make up for the fact that I would now sparkle in sunlight. Fuck who was I kidding? That douche bag would make fun of his own mother. Fucking sparkles. I think some of them were in the decks and acting like dust, which would make things run wonky. Fuck.

I was under the table trying to get wires hooked up correctly when I heard someone clear their throat. I looked behind me and saw a pair of shoes with black and white spots and tiny pink unicorns on them. What the fuck now?

"Mr. Cullen?" I swallowed hard, breaking into a cold sweat as my balls frantically tried to crawl up into my stomach. They knew what was coming. Goodbye, my friends. I'll miss you. I scooted out from under the table only to crack my skull on its underside as I got up. "Ahh! FUCK!" I squinted and rubbed my head. I could feel the lump starting already. I opened one eye and saw Rose, not dressed as Maleficent, but as…what? Goldie-sex-locks? Bo-Fuck-Me-Peep? Her blond hair was pulled back into pigtails, her yellow dress was scandalously short, and Emmett's dick was certainly standing at full attention wherever he was.

"Mr. Cullen, did you not read the invitation I handed to you?"

"Yes, Miss Hale, I did. I'm sorry. I had a costume, but there was a mix-up."

"That's all well and good, but if you don't find a costume to wear before the club opens up, I'm not paying your fee, and I will call Mr. Yorkie."

Fuck me sideways. Where the hell was I going to find a fucking costume?! I stood up straighter and clenched my teeth, just nodding to her, and she turned on her heel and marched off to spread fear and loathing elsewhere. I scrolled through my music choices and just put on some instrumental pieces that I had been working on to keep the crowd of workers occupied as I tried to fucking become Martha-Fucking-Stewart and make a costume out of thin air.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything from the day lying on my chest. It felt like Emmett had placed one of his stupid kettle bells from his gym on my chest, pushing all the air out of my lungs. I shoved the same persistent as fuck, chunk of hair out of my face. It was going to cause me blindness with the vicinity it was to my eye all the damn time. I think I need to get my fucking hair cut. I was so fucking angry. My internal cursing and mental focus was all out of control.

I needed to calm down. Refocus. I looked around at my set up and deemed it necessary for a break. I quickly and quietly walked off the stage in the search for aid.

I patted myself down as I looked for my keys, running headlong into a gigantic wool wall that was hotter than hell and I instantly flashed back to my nightmare, like the world's most pathetic PTSD sufferer, and my limbs flailed every which way. "GET OFF ME. NO! DON'T CUT ME!!"

"Um, dude, you know this is a club and not cell block D, right?"

I looked up and saw Jake, the bar back, who was dressed up like a sheep. Hope you got paid extra for that, buddy.

"Sorry, ignore me. I just need to go somewhere and think for a bit."

"What's wrong, dude?" I sighed, wondering if I really wanted to get on the couch with Jake as my shrink. Fuck it.

"Rose is all up in my face about the stupid costume, or in my case, the lack thereof. I had a costume, but there was an issue."

"Wait, wait — I let you in without a costume?" His voice laced with a tone of fear. I could totally relate.

"Well, yes."

"DAMN IT! Are you trying to get me fired?" His mitten clad hands clamped onto my arms and I swear I broke out into a cold sweat.

"Sorry, man, I need to figure out how to fix this," I said, pushing past him. I couldn't take it. I just needed to get away. Away from the bar, away from the costume problem, and away from Emmett, Jasper, Jake, and especially Rose, so I could think.

I had parked the Volvo in the side alley so that it would be easier to pack up my gear and go home after the party. At least that was what I kept telling myself. Truth be told, it also insured easy access to my cigs. I liked to think that I had a serious amount of control with my habit, but there were worse days than others, today being a fine example. I quickly stripped off my black tee-shirt and threw it into the car. It wasn't as cold as it looked outside, and I wouldn't be out here long.

I pulled out my cigarettes and stood in between the car and the frozen brick wall. The sound of a truck with a muffler problem startled me; it sounded like it didn't have one at all. I switched my cigarette to the other hand and watched as a huge kid who must have been from the reservation unfolded from the passenger side. The driver gracefully slid out and shut the door. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her back, She had this light tan dress clung to her every curve. She had a wide, dark brown belt that hung low and hugged her hips. I completely blanked watching her lithe body climb and stretch over the hatch of the truck. Everything inside that club was miniscule now, compared to the sight in front of me. The brunette was leaning so far into the truck bed I thought she was going to topple over. Watching her had instantly made the world around me go away. It didn't matter if Rose got me fired, as long as I got to meet the princess with brown hair…

Many thanks to those of you still reading. I know it took me too long to update. Thanks to Sarah, Stacey, and Shannon for checking and double checking. Those on UU -- I heart you hard.

Thanks Again.