THE POP PRINCESS GOES POP

by Lotus Rose

 

     Mackenzie "Jiggles" Sweet--so named for her tendency to jump up and down on stage while wearing string bikini tops--waited for the wild cheers to die down before grabbing the microphone and beginning to speak. 

     "Ladies and gentlemen," she began.  "I have an announcement!  Today is my birthday!  Today I am 18 years old!  I am finally legal in all fifty states!"  She raised her fist in the air triumphantly.

     The crowd, mostly blond tween girls drenched in pink, roared and wooed.

     Mackenzie, being the professional pop star that she was, waited patiently for the crowd to quiet down.  She was glistening and radiant--literally, because her body was smeared all over with baby oil.  All the scruffy band members behind her only served to make her appear even more beautiful.  She was wearing a pink and white string bikini top and some very tight white shorts.  When the crowd got quiet enough, she gave one of her trademark, "grrrly-laughs," which was a girlish giggle while covering her mouth shyly with her hand, and then once that highly choreographed move was done, she flipped her long blond hair off her shoulder.  She gave a discreet gesture to the guy holding the cue cards to hold them up higher, then continued.

     "Well, I sure have grown a lot in the past few years, and, as many of you may have noticed, two parts of me in particular have grown dramatically in the last month between the time of me being 17 and today, on my 18th birthday!  I know that many people, the haters, have been speculating that I may have been 'surgically enhanced,' but that is simply not true!  I really don't know how it happened, my body just suddenly squirted!"  She crinkled her eyes at the cue cards--the words were written in magic marker, and were hard to read.  "Oops, I mean spurted!"  The card then said to put on a serious expression, which she did.  "Now to all you girls out there, I say, don't put too much stock in your appearance, because true beauty is on the inside, and if you need more tips, there is more where that came from on my new CD, out in stores today, entitled, Finally Legal!" 

     The card said, Wait for crowd to stop cheering, which she did.

     She continued:  "I love nothing more than singing for all of you, my fans, and getting all the love back from you!" 

     The crowd cheered madly.  Mackenzie mouthed back, "I love you too," while doing the accompanying pantomime:  pointing to her eye, then drawing a heart in the air, then pointing toward the audience.

     Now the cue card said, Put serious face back on.  "But before I start singing, I'd like to take the time to address a more serious issue."  She paused for dramatic effect.  "The children.  Practically everything I do is for the children.  I feel that I owe everything I have to the children.  Well, okay, enough of the downer talk.  Thanks to all of you for coming to my 18th birthday party!"  (Crowd roar.)  "Today is going to be such a special day, I just know it!"

     The lead guitarist, Dylan, flipped a cigarette into his mouth and tried to keep from glaring at her.  You don't even know the half of it, bitch, he thought.

     Mackenzie grrrly-laughed into the microphone, then said, "This next song was inspired by a conversation with my older sister, who is also a famous pop star!  One day, when I was wearing a string bikini, trying to be just like my big sis--and by the way, my sister is in this month's Playboy, look for it--girls you can have your big brother or father buy it for you!  Anyway, she saw me in that two-piece bikini and she laughed and pointed at my chest, and you know what she said?  She said. . . ."

     She paused, and let the audience yell the title of the song out with her.  And the crowd roared back, with pumped fists:

 

     "UH OH!  CLEAVAGE!"

 

     She started to "rock" and strut and as the guitar started up, she jutted her breasts out and wiggled from side to side.

     Then Mackenzie began to lip-sync the words to the prerecorded track, because it was a fact, unknown by all the fans, that Mackenzie lip-synched while her backup band actually played their instruments.  Her vocals were actually recorded earlier and electronically "fixed up."          

     Her prerecorded voice coyly sang:

 

     Uh oh, cleavage!

     Uh oh, I got cleavage up on top, and cleavage down below!

     Oh no no no, I ain't no ho just cuz I got a camel toe!

     Daddy's little girl has got a D cup!  I ain't a baby no mo'!

     Ohhhhhhhhhh I say,

     D-d-addy's little girl now has double duh-dees!

     And I ain't no longer a buh-buh-baby! 

     And I ain't no ho, just cuz I have a camel toe.

     Oh, a no no no.

 

     (These lines instantly launched a scandal and sent the music journalists scribbling in their notebooks, because, previously, the lines had always been "b cup" and "double b's.")

     Now was the part when Dylan played a guitar solo and Mackenzie would gyrate and bounce up and down on the stage.

     The lead guitarist, Dylan, had thrown a hissy fit earlier, saying that he wanted to do a guitar solo, but he always wanted to do a guitar solo.  She had granted him twenty seconds.  She had to keep from rolling her eyes as Dylan played, as he tried to look real cool with his stupid spiked, frosted hair and scraggly goatee--he was making weird monkey-expressions.  He was always trying to show off, trying to steal the limelight.

     But being the professional that she was, Mackenzie's face only showed the perfect expression of uninhibited ecstasy.

     She prepared to rock out with her lip-syncing of the second verse, which was exactly the same as the first.

     She lifted the microphone up to her mouth, then came the blaring sound of her voice, but instead of the lyrics to the second verse, it was a joke song she had sung once, purposefully sung badly--even more than usual.

     She held the microphone closer to her mouth, trying to play it off as her out-of-tune voice jarringly sang out of sync with the band:

 

          Shimmy shimmy cocoa bop,

          I'm a little teapot!

          Shimmy shimmy cocoa bop!

          Now I'm gonna smoke pot!

          No, really, no I'm not.

          Look at me, look at me!

          I'm a little girleeee!

          And now I sway,

          And now I strut, strut like an ostrich!

 

     A dazed confusion came over the crowd.  The band continued to play for the "Uh Oh, Cleavage" song.

     She couldn't place where she had sung the joke song, then she suddenly remembered--she had left a silly message on Dylan's voice mail once and she had made up the song on the spot--that had been a long time ago, when they had actually liked each other, before . . . the ritual.

     Mackenzie looked over at Dylan--he was laughing while he played the guitar.

     She felt the violent rage surge through her body.  He had done this to her!

     A couple of years ago, they had both sold their souls for rock and roll in a ritual in which they each became the slave of a demon--a winged succubus was Mackenzie's master, a werewolf-like demon was Dylan's master.  The demons had an insatiable hunger for the blood of innocent children and it was the job of Mackenzie and Dylan, as their slaves, to provide it for them.  Most of the children were the tween girl fans, and the demons would have the tweens punctured, and their blood drained into a tub which they'd drink.  In the ritual, Mackenzie and Dylan had each asked a demon to enter their body to take up the space that used to be occupied with their souls.  Because of the work of the demons behind the scenes, Mackenzie's fame crept to the top of the charts and Dylan also drew his share of adoration.  But envy existed even--perhaps especially--amongst demons. 

     And Dylan was off a few feet away from Mackenzie chuckling to himself.  Mackenzie's vocals had stopped, but the band continued to play. 

     Mackenzie glared at Dylan and her eyes began to glow with an inner demonic rage.

     And now, audacity of audacity, Dylan was launching into another guitar solo!  He was trying to steal the show, trying to usurp her . . . now he was on his knees, playing the guitar with his tongue--a forked tongue.  Who the hell did he think he was, Jimmi Hendrix?

     She had to step on his glory, in case people started to like his guitar playing too much and it upstaged her. 

     Her microphone was left on for her to interject things like "Rock out, Austin!" to make it seem more like she was actually singing.  So she said into it:  "Hey everybody, Dylan has a small pecker, I've seen it!"

     There was a shocked silence, then a wave of giggling rolling through the crowd of tween girls.

     Dylan glared at Mackenzie.

     An inner fire began to glow in his eyes.

     Dylan transformed himself into the demon, sprouting tendons and sinew of cords of muscle, face contorting into a grotesque caricature of his former pretty-yet-rugged face.

     Uh oh, now she'd done it.

     Dylan was roaring, charging with inhuman speed, wolf-like fangs bared, ready to pounce, almost on her. . . .

     Seeing no other route of escape, Mackenzie's demon, wishing to preserve the body of its slave, felt it had no alternative but to reveal its true form in order to escape.

     Quickly, the two wings punched out from beneath the flesh of Mackenzie's back--they were two gray bat-like wings, riddled with throbbing veins--the wings of a demon.  Oh, daddy's little girl definitely had changed after all.  Oh no no, it was more than just a camel toe--and more than breasts--the wings of the demon when they emerged were like a sudden onset of succubus puberty slashing through the feeble strings of her flimsy string bikini . . . and those new breasts right out of the doctor's office were then revealed to the world, the scars still bright pink around her nipples, where the doctor had cut them off and reattached them--the plastic-filled orbs were inhumanly round and gravity-defying--which was appropriate for a demon.

     Mackenzie had wings but Dylan didn't, because he was a lesser demon.

     And she flew and was free . . . wait, no she wasn't, because Dylan leapt ten feet off the stage and grabbed onto her ankle.

     He glared at her with pure hatred and snarled, "You bitch!"

     She rolled her eyes.  "Oh now you show your true colors!  You backstabber!"

     Dylan's face was actually turning red with anger, and he yelled out, "You fake-humped camel!"

     "You frosted flake!"

     He was trying to crawl up her thigh.

     But she laughed as his grip began to slip--it was because of the baby oil.

     She gave her leg a jostle and proclaimed, "Player-haters got to drop off!"

     And he did, landing on a couple of blond tweens.

     And Mackenzie soared--flew like an eagle . . . into the sky--while the crowd erupted into applause.  They didn't think the events were bad at all.  In fact, it would probably help record sales.

     The next day, fake demon wings were all the rage amongst the tween set.  It was indeed an amusing novelty to see gaggles of young girls, all wearing identical wings, with pink shirts.

     The next week, Mackenzie's newest single, "Do You See Pink?" was all over the radio and a video was in the works in which it was anticipated that she would show her wings for the first time.  The song was a number one hit, and Mackenzie was on top again.

 

          I said, do you . . . see pink?

          Do you . . . know what I think?

          I think you see the pink.

          I think you want my pink,

          And that's what I really really think.

         

          --Mackenzie Sweet, "Do you see pink?"