Official Orange Week Fiction

Cara and Jena, brains throbbing like heads had been inflated with the same foot pump used to inflate the kiddie pool. Or like their brains were used chewing gum or that some rhythm incompetent drummer had taken up residency in their cerebral cortex. They were in fact; nursing vicious hangovers, due to last night’s post Grammy celebrations. After taking up every single award available, miraculously being awarded the award for best rock album, R & B album, Male Artist, Female Artist, Lifetime achievement and breakthrough artist of the year award, Cara and Jena had reason to celebrate. The tour bus was speeding along highway 69 (giggle) transporting the artist to their “Best tour ever” tour.

Surrounded by multitudes of ridiculously good-looking groupies roadies. Cara and Jena were recovering from their post-celebration trauma in style. It was a source of constant bewilderment to the public that though Cara and Jena made millions upon millions of dollars they couldn’t scrape together the money to buy their roadies shirts. As a result, the unfortunate roadies spent their days half-clothed/half naked/are you an optimist?

Blond Roadie Travis (ex Calvin Klein model) was fanning the ailing heroines of this tale. Red headed roadie, Julio, was cooking up a culinary delight in nothing but an apron; it had been a stingy year. Cara and Jena weren’t too upset.

Chocolate/Black rodie Marc (must be said in French accent) was busy preparing the oils for the girls’ daily two-hour massage. And playing ‘I spy’ in the back seat was Bob. Everyone was happy, everyone that is, except Trent: the multi-Oscar winning Hollywood heartthrob, who put his career on hold to help move PA equipment topless for Cara and Jena. He was brooding in the front seat, surly, as he had not been included in the previous night’s threesome. In a fit of jealous rage Trent snapped and covered the eyes of the bus driver.

“Aaargh!” the bus driver yelled, knowing the monumentous decision ahead of him, He had driven this route many times before, for artists not nearly in the same league as Cara and Jena (i.e. the Beatles, Nirvana, ACDA, Coldplay, Queen…etc.)

He knew there were only two ways he could turn: to the right, the alligator and crocodile farm and to the left, the Ethiopian orphanage for Ethiopian orphans with disabilities. Not being much of an animal activist, the driver swerved to the right, into the swampy pits that housed the flesh-eating reptiles.

The driver was killed on impact, Leaving Cara and Jena and several ridiculously good-looking groupies roadies to fend for themselves.

Realising the crocodiles were rapidly closing in, the roadies and Cara and Jena huddled together for one last orgy heart-to-heart.

In the midst of that sweaty couple of minutes, Trent had an epiphany (amongst other sensations) He voiced for the first time to the group his jealousy, and came to terms with his feelings. Although he loved Cara and Jena very dearly (as well as a number of the other roadies) he realised that sharing was more important that all the Oscars Hollywood had to offer.

He also realised his imminent death and decided that he had to take control of the situation. He had to save the two beautiful girls, not just for himself, but for anyone else in the world that appreciated beautiful music (Better then anything the Beatles or any other semi successful band could offer)

Someone needed to be sacrificed. They were just about to do eenie meenie minie moe, when Bob interjected: “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with C…no A…No C. Oh I just can’t decide! So much to choose from. Oh such fun!”

They turned slowly towards him looking at him hungrily, like a fat kid looks at cake, or how a fat kid looks at a Big Mac with coke and no ice (he gets more coke that way), or how a fat kid looks a tub of lard, or how a fat kid looks at a candy shop…(see fat kid insert)

Bob’s Death was quick. I’m sure he felt no pain.

Thanks to bob’s valiant sacrifice, the others reached safety. Cara and Jena resumed their “Greatest Tour Ever” tour. It was sold out within the first two hours and forty minutes in every state. Except in Venezuela where it sold out in two minutes, despite the language barrier.

Epilogue.

Cara overdosed two years later, locked in a toilet with various other rock n’ roll socialites, shocking the world’s tabloids and splitting up the band. She then spent the rest of her life with her rock star boyfriend communicating to the rest of the world via web cam. She still had a successful solo career.

Jena abandoned her hardcore lifestyle and consumed only herbal tea for the rest of her days. Spurning the conventions of modern life she refused to shave her legs or armpits. She became an experimental artist working only with the insides of watermelons (discarding the pips of course) and shuttlecocks (giggle). Contrary to expectations she then became the head of a multimillion-dollar corporation and became solely responsible for crushing the economy of Somalia. Jena wasn’t very upset.

Trent married a good woman and had two beautiful children, white picked fence, a white dog called snowy and a black dog called blackie. They had roast on Sundays and he sent his children to an American school with a conspicuous purple uniform and a bad wrap from the press.

How did he finance all this you ask? He sold crack to once wholesome teenagers…and Cara.

THE END

# posted by Orange Week @ 2:11 pm