|Johnny B. Fast (standard:other, 3778 words)|
|Author: Bogey||Added: Dec 29 2000||Views/Reads: 3520/1367||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Every one has a secret. Johnny is no exception.|
Well, it's been a while. But I fear that if I don't post this story now, I'll spend forever editing and improving. Just to postpone the inevitable. Letting go is always a process. And if I don't let go now, you will sit in your favourite chair with another story. So, take this one instead, dear Reader, and read. I hope you enjoy this tale, but I'm sure you'll let me know. Johnny B. Fast The music cries a last dying roar. Spotlights flashing like lightning and drums, guitars and keyboards screaming like rolling thunder. Then, suddenly, total silence. Total darkness. A few in the audience start clapping, but hesitate as one spotlight catches the single man on stage from behind. A dark shadow with a silver lining, holding a silver-lined guitar high up in one hand as final chords fall out of the instrument. Slowly, other instruments join in this salute to a dying dragon. And then, the music finally dies. The crowd has been holding the moment with anxiety and barely kept patience. Like one giant living creature, waiting for the final breath of the dragon. With the death of the music, the crowd bursts out in a thundering cry. Hands are clapping, feet stamping, mouths screaming. Thousands of people, joined by one man into one giant living organic beast. Now, they realize that for a couple of hours, they have been one. Combined by The Living Legend, The Rock & Roll God, The Master of Show. Combined by The Guitar King. Combined by Johnny B. Fast. They try to clap and stamp and scream that reality away. Maybe with a lot of noise, their togetherness might be extended. And as the audience begin to realize that finally the show is over, that they are meant to leave the King and Master alone; then the organic creature slowly falls apart. The one becomes many again, as thousands of little girls, teenaged rockers and forty year old fathers make their way to one of the many exits at Wembley Stadium. They leave the usual litter behind, thousands of plastic cups, half burnt cigarettes, a banner with Dragon Tour 2027 on it. The Living Legend still stands on the stage. The spotlight laying one silver lining around him has been shut off. He stepped back a little so no one can see him. In the darkness, he watches the people leaving. Gathering his human soul, lost during the show as the man became a true God of Rock & Roll. A roadie jumps up next to him, takes his arms and drags the King to the dressing room. Johnny B. Fast sighed and dragged a towel across his face. Sweat, make-up and even tears left his face. Now, his humanity fully restored, he started to think about the show. It sure was great. The crowd loved every second of it. His new guitar, another gift from Stephanie, played just as he wanted. Every guitar given by Stephanie was perfect for him. Johnny occasionally tried others, but always thought that those guitars were great, not perfect. Just like his body, great but not perfect. No complains, at forty-five he was still considered The Most Sexy Man On Earth and this title was his for fifteen years now. Johnny stood up and removed his clothes. A quick shower would refresh him. This time, no girls were banging his door. Groupies that claim to do anything for him, but as soon as he went for the boobs they freaked out. They all dreamed about sex with the Living Legend, but in reality, they hardly ever gave in. Anyway, most of those girls were too young for his liking. And none could match Stephanie. It was different with Stephanie. Not like any woman Johnny ever knew. For starters, she was a real knockout. A head turning, mouth-watering woman. Stephanie was long, longer than most women. With long legs, a slender body and long black hair. She had grey eyes, like a rainy sky. Her face was pale, with a thin nose, slightly turned upwards. Her neck seemed fragile, too fragile to keep her head balanced. He remembered every little detail. As the shower was running, his mind trailed off to that distant land of memories. Memories of that mysterious woman. A woman that showed up in his dressing room one night. Johnny B. Fast was just Johnny Fargo back then. A singer and guitar player in a band that would never be successful. A guy with dreams about playing before a hundred thousand instead of the one hundred at that night. He knew that he was a good Click here to read the rest of this story (308 more lines)
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