Vamp-Ire the Mars-Parade – Last Brouhaha Standing
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved
This is amateurish roleplayer sermon, unworthy of highest academic standards!
There comes a moment, when the own ego no longer bathes us in ignorance, and we realize that midlife crisis is just another mainstream simplification. Real Life rarely looks as polished, as the Movies. Real life hurts us with or without justification, and that real life was worth it for a while, as it brought all the joy, all the sex, and all the indulgence we loved, too.
For some of us letting the own facade down is difficult in precisely the solitude which would allow us to keep it secret. Still it is not just another misery loves company. It is one of those social rites which even the non-occult-crazed can understand. Some by instinct, some by gut-feeling, others due observation or prudence.
The little talk is set in generic city, and specifically into a cheap generic diner of it. Even the protagonists admitted that they ain’t special enough to craft out a unique background!
Adrian: Another coffee, please. Lots of lactose-free milk and sugar.
Waitress: You sure they’ll show-up at all?
And while customers enter or leave, and the waitress does her job, Adrian stares into the nightly sky, drifting into the tear-jerking nostalgia once more. A decade since his cat had died, and years after the loss of Huggy Woman. Life’s been the longest road this bummer ever had to walk. Life.
Dodging his own tears his eyesight falls upon the Brouhaha T-Shirt they all purchased for their meeting. ‘Better dead than uncool!’ its slogan. What foolish, youthful pride they had once fallen for.
Thurston: You still owe me money!
Adrian: Mistaken Identity, Sir?
Thurston: Not again…
Adrian: Sorry, stock market courses, global porn-strike, and a dire need for drugs!
Thurston: Seen the Doctor?
Adrian: Yes, as if gut-rot wouldn’t be enough. It is DJ LC early on stage.
Thurston hesitates for one blink of an eye. But then he regains his composure.
Thurston: So the Afterlife-Mafia may come soon?
Adrian: Only the Bosses know, J.T.
Thurston: Oh, dammit. You forgot ten university graduations and fifty ex-wives with one heart-failure, but the one thing you remember is…
Adrian: The darkest secret of all who ever came close to me.
Both chuckle, as the minor quirk of using his middle-name did stop worrying Joshua-Thurston decades ago.
Brakeman: If I wouldn’t know better than I’d say that my business associate has fallen for another bum’s tragic tale!
The voice of Brakeman makes both other Brouhaha jumpy. It is clear to see.
Thurston: Please, Sir, gimme a coin!
Adrian: Dear Mr. Brakeman, did my office fail to inform you that our business appointment has been shifted to the 30th of February, and from London to Tokyo?
Brakeman: Hm… *suspicious look*
Now three Brouhaha chuckle, and one waitress summons her ‘no-nonsense composure’, delivering a coffee to Adrian and asking the other weirdos what they want to order. The Fennesea-Roleplay Sermon they discuss DOES make the waitress pray for a Nerd-Slaying Serial, but so far none shows up.
Adrian: Wasn’t she pregnant?
Brakeman: Her husband considers it ill-suited to know her associated with the Brouhaha any longer, I daresay.
Adrian: Daresay, that is his version of ‘I guess’.
Brakeman: *stares the traditional daggers into the eyes of the lowborn loudmouth*
Adrian: Didn’t you two, both, marry your roleplaying wives? Queens of Hearts and so?
Thurston: My old boy is feverish. Had no choice.
Brakeman: Business calls on the morrow, sorry.
Adrian: Any sense in waiting for Bestial and K?
Thurston: Bestial seems very busy doing body-building.
Brakeman: And even we uncovered some of your TOTALLY harmless notes about the state of the art concerning K! *glares at Adrian*
Adrian: mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! *poses theatrically*
The bummer fetches a menthol-cigarette from a package, and lightens it afire. Inhaling, coughing, inhaling once again, though slower and focused on it, struggling.
Thurston: That is really a new low.
Brakeman: I had hoped you felt tempted to point-out being different, but that’s really it. Lung Cancer for those useless tobacco sticks, and not the slightest regrets?
Adrian: I regret a lot, being me has never been part of that though.
Uncomfortable silence lurks for one moment, but decades of practice let the trio snap-back into the spirit of the True Brouhaha instead!
Adrian: Twenty years on psychology websites, and not one with a solution. Most with the same stereotypical explanation. Dammit, Vamp-Ire the Mars-Parade was simply the best we could achieve, no more, and no less.
Thurston: Oh, that night the Sabot struck I really thought we were dusted!
Brakeman: I must have been absent.
Adrian: Nothing hit us harder than that fairy tale crossover!
Brakeman: Except the next adventure, maybe.
Adrian & Thurston: True!
Brakeman: And then you decided to switch sides, Join the Sabot, any memories why you did so?
Adrian: No, truly none. Maybe the inner turmoil of being one of the two Satanic Brouhaha anyway? Nah.
Brakeman: Hm… that deep fall you took does indeed remind of the Bali Clan.
Thurston: And now two Corporate Brouhaha listen to the Devilish Sermon of the one Satanic Brouhaha?
For a mortal in midlife crisis it does make so much more sense. In secrecy most of us had heard songs like ‘Forever Young’ or ‘Who wants to live forever’, too. Few above age 40 wouldn’t consider a Faustian Bargain to become a Brouhaha Brawler Punky instead of withering away, lost in their routines of career, family or failure. It DID all become alike somehow. Mortality is a burden to live with, and it grows more heavy with every day we grow older, and thus grow consequentially weaker.
Adrian: Dreams of Today are Ego-Bursts of tomorrow, it is Cola time!
*Another social rite is indulged*
Adrian: A toast, for those forced to go before their true time had come!
Thurston: A toast, to the Society which hosts us!
Brakeman: A toast, to the future awaiting us!
Adrian: Now let’s shake-off this sentimentality, as if any of us would have ever aspired to be part of the Brouhaha!
And so it was done. Right in time for a cellular-phone call to reach Brakeman.
*Emotionally-Touching Moment my prose couldn’t get written* 😉
Brakeman: Sorry, I have to leave early, but one last thing, Adrian, care to accompany me to the car?
Adrian: Until this becomes another gay-sex orgy we never had for real!
Brakeman: *eyes rolling*
Thurston: Don’t worry, I drive our lil Bummer home!
Brakeman: Good, but that’s not it. Let’s go.
Adrian and Brakeman walk towards the parking lot.
Brakeman: So you die like a stubborn mule instead of asking any of us for help?
Adrian: I was tempted, but it is the price for my own choices made.
Brakeman: Can’t you imagine that somehow WE ALL see that a bit differently? No man is left behind once held real meaning, you know.
Adrian: Sorry, never had a course on how to save a life the casual & cultivated way, I daresay.
Brakeman: We pay the best doctors money can buy, and you will struggle against the Cancer, as much, as you have struggled against every damn norm in your entire life!
The Bummer Brouhaha is visibly wracked by pain, crashing to the ground. And rising up again quickly thereafter.
Adrian: *cough*… I am fine!
Brakeman: Yeah, THAT is clear to see.
Adrian: Olaf, get home well, greetings to your wife, and be ready, when your newborn needs a father!
Brakeman: Well, err, thanks. I ‘guess’. Are you crying?
Adrian: Nah, just a tear-jerking from the pain! Now saddle-up, Cowboy!
Brakeman: Until next time then!
Adrian: Yes, until we meet again, Corporate Brouhaha!
Returning to Thurston in slow motion the face of Adrian displays an enervated, tired composure.
Thurston: So we came to save a life tonight. Did we?
Adrian: God may know. Time to drive home.
Thurston: Yes, Milord.
Adrian: Yes, Milord, let’s eradicate those degenerate devil-worshipers once and for all!
The car drove with maximum speed, clearly ignoring the laws. Both passengers were pressed into their seats.
Thurston: Does he know?
Adrian: Will we live long enough to find out?
They both popped some pills, swallowing greedily…
Thurston and Adrian looked at each other…
Thurston: You still doubt any chance of an Afterlife?
Adrian: Outside of porn? Yes!
The impact killed both of them quickly, as they stopped being ‘uncool’…