Legion Of Rockstars

I dropped to my knees beside Jimmy’s lifeless body. His lips moved, forming the lyrics of the songs playing over and over inside his head, and when I leaned in closer I could hear him singing the songs softly beneath his breath. Those pop idiots had done enough damage already. I seized each of the large circular headphones and slid it the contraption smoothly off of Jimmy’s head. It left his hair slightly ruffled, and even from an arm’s length away, I could hear the music.

I scowled at the cruel weapon I held within my fingers and chucked it across the room. The Headphones slammed hard into the wall, bouncing off and rolling a few feet across the floor, little pieces falling off as it did so. Then, the object just lay there, not making a single peep. I focused my attention back on Jimmy and seized his shoulders with both of my hands, shaking him gently as I half-yelled his name. I needed to speak a little louder than necessary to break through the songs going around and around his head.

Jimmy didn’t respond. His eyes remained closed and his lips continued to form soundless words. I said his name louder, shaking him a little more roughly. After several more tries with no result, I released his shoulders and slapped his cheek a little softer than normal, yelling, “Jimmy, you goof ball, wake the hell up!”

I breathed out a sigh of relief when Jimmy’s eyelids slowly flickered open. He peered up at me, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. He laid there for several moments in this manner before leaping off of the floor and crying out. He took several steps back from me, looking at me like I was a madwoman. My own confusion grew as he looked down at himself and yelled out, half in shock, half in pain, and began to brush his hand down his arms, as though to sweep the ink from his skin.

After several moments, he realized the tattoos would not leave his skin and resorted to holding his arms out away from his body with his face turned away from them, like the multi-colored inks were a disease he could not rid himself of. I slowly rose to my feet and took a small step towards Jimmy, holding my arms aloft, palms facing him, in a gesture of goodwill.

“Do you remember who I am? Who you are?” I asked slowly and quietly, slowing inching closer to my best friend. Jimmy shook his head no, taking a step back for every time I shifted forward. “Okay, just calm down. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” I leaned down and placed my stun gun on the ground, scooting it away with the side of my foot. Jimmy relaxed a little bit after that, as I thought quickly to find out how much the Headphones had affected my giant friend.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“My name is Asher,” I answered, taking a slow step towards him. Jimmy didn’t retreat this time, however. “I’m your best friend. Do you remember me?”

“N-no,” Jimmy said with a shake of his head.

“Do you remember what band you’re in, or any of your band mates’ names?” I wheedled. Jimmy didn’t respond. “Will it help if I tell the genre of your band?”

Jimmy nodded.

“You’re in a rock band.”

“No, I’m not!” Jimmy yelled, looking suddenly very angry with me. “I am not in a stupid rock band! Rock music is Satan’s music! Rockstars can all go to Hell for all I care, and they will go to Hell! They deserve to burn with the Devil for their sins! They sin through their lips and their fingers and I’m not any part of that! So you can just shut up about the rock music, and I can tell you’re a rock idiot, and I don’t like it one bit! You can rot in Hell!”

I stared in horror as Jimmy continued to yell at me, momentarily forgetting the tattoos decorating his skin. I couldn’t believe Jimmy would ever say such things. Then, I realized that the Headphones really did a number on Jimmy’s sanity and perception of reality. The Headphones filled his mind with that pop propaganda about how bad rock music is and yada yada yada, lies, lies, lies. I needed to figure out a way to get him back to normal: the sooner, the better. But how?

Suddenly, a crazy idea popped into my head. I figured it couldn’t hurt. The worst he would do was shove me away. If he did, then I’d just alert the rest of the team about the situation and we’d find some way to convince Jimmy to go back to Headquarters with us so he could get better.

“You cover your bodies in tattoos and ink and piercings,” Jimmy rambled on, his face getting redder and redder in anger. I stepped swiftly towards him, and he was too busy yelling at me about how bad rock music is to retreat away. “Can’t you live with—?”

I cut him off mid-sentence by curling my fingers around each side of his neck and dragging his lips hard against mine. Jimmy struggled for several moments against me; I just clenched my fingers harder against his neck and wrapped one of my legs around his waist to hold him in place. Then, he just froze. I slowly pulled my leg away from his waist, keeping my lips pressed against his and hoping this was all a signal that my plan was working.

And then, Jimmy’s rigid body relaxed. He wrapped both arms around me, dragging me hard against his body. I smiled against his lips, knowing my plan had worked and he really was back to normal. Jimmy pulled away beaming.

“Asher, looks like you saved my ass again,” Jimmy said, resting an arm around my shoulders and leading the way out the door. “If I had a handkerchief, I’d offer it to you as a token of my appreciation. But how else could I repay you? And I’m not above sex as a payment.”

“Just keep wishing, Jimmy,” I replied, wrapping my arm back around his waist. “Just keep wishing.”