SCARIEN NATION NOW BE ONE
HOLLYWOOD SWINGING - THE SCARIENS ROCK
The Scariens flew first class to Hollywood. Manny was at the airport to meet them when they landed in the Scarien jet. Manny wanted to inspect the new jet he had just bought for the band. He filled the guys in what the schedule was. Everyone jumped in Manny's limo to go to a recording studio somewhere in LA. Swimming pools. Movie stars. Manny told the cats that he had booked a solid week in the studio. Koresh was supposed to meet them there.
Nobody could believe this weird shit. Manny kept assuring them that everything was cool. Roadies were moving crates of equipment into the studio and setting it up. Manny had booked the studio so that Koresh could rehearse with the combo for the gig at Cher's pool party the following day. They could also lay down a few tracks for the new album.
"Hey, Manny, why's that guy setting up keyboards?"
Flash - Mr. Scary appears. He was in a weird mood and didn't even say hello. Like he had been talking to the mezz. He walked over to a large wooden crate and pried off the top board. As he leaned over to look into the box, David Koresh sat up. Live, and in person. The guys moved in to check him out a little closer, while Mr. Scary proceeded to explain how Koresh had resurrected himself.
"Koresh called me and asked if I could set up a meeting with you men. He would like to join the Scariens. He's part Scarien, too...on his mother's side of the family," Mr. Scary related.
"He can play keyboards like a mother and a little guitar, too," Manny shouted from the control room, "Why don't you guys just jam with David. Show him a couple of your bits. If you guys want him in, I'll get the contracts ready."
"I thought they dusted you in Waco, man."
"They did. The ATF burned me bigtime. While I was departed from this world, I had many great visions. I saw you fellas living in the White House. The Scariens were Presidents of the United States. Then I saw you all living in a huge magnificent yellow double wide, the size of the Taj Mahal. The Scariens were Kings of the World," Koresh said serenely.
"Right, man, like next week."
"It will come to pass," Koresh said, all knowingly.
"Anything is possible. Your mission to rid this world of evil mutant aliens may lead you down many paths. To conquer the Arien Nation will not be easy. The more power you possess, the easier your mission will be," Mr. Scary stated solemnly.
"Hey, Mr. Scary, what ever happened to Mirror?"
"She is working with a band in Jamaica. The Rastascariens. Sort of a whirl beat thing," Mr. Scary proudly told everyone.
Koresh sat in while the Scariens rehearsed. He fell right in, almost like he already knew the songs. They jammed all night and Koresh was ripping, jank after jank, tip after tip. He was in.
The next morning, with no sleep, everyone but Mr. Scary split to Cher's estate. The Scariens signed Koresh at their poolside breakfast. Then they set up their equipment and did a sound check. Ready to roll.
They had about four hours to kill before the party started. Cher hadn't even gotten back from New York yet. She had gone back east to work on a picture with teen idols Beavis and Butthead. It was mezzmezzro time. The combo piled into the big yellow limo that J. Edgar Junior was driving. When they pulled up to the front gate to leave, there were about 500 tabloid reporters gathered in front of Cher's estate.
Every major tabloid was represented. TV cameras and lights filled the street. All the major networks and public access stations were there. For the next four hours, the guys sat in the big yellow limo enjoying the aroma of the mezz and staring at all the press people.
Guests began to arrive. Movie stars and politicians. Hollywood insiders and higher-ups. Undercover CIA prostitutes and big time producers. They were all there. The Scariens hit the buffet and were talking about hitting the stage. Koresh was already seated behind his keyboard and about 15 starry eyed starlets gathered around his corner of the stage.
"Don't act suspicious, but there's one of them Dobalina clones over there," J. Edgar Junior whispered to Kareem.
"Let's vaporize the chump right now."
"Cool it, Kareem. He's CIA. I'll handle band security. You boys play and I'll keep an eye on him."
"Do you think he can see the wheels?"
"Who cares," Jabbah answered, "Where's Cher?"
The band opened with a clandestine melody that dealt with foreign intrigue and insanity, among other things. The MK-Ultra wheels were set on high power. The band rocked and Koresh was cooking. The crowd was getting off, getting down and throwing down.
The Scariens played for about two hours without even stopping to smoke a cigarette. When they stopped, the beautiful people were staring at the band as if they were hypnotized. Dobalina was walking out the gate holding his head with both hands as if he was in extreme pain.
"This music is horrible," Dobalina muttered as he made his exit.
"This band is better than the Beatles and even U2," said an aging Valley Girl.
"It's like Sinatra, Elvis, and James Brown all balled up in a ball," Valley Girl's mother gushed.
"The singer is even cooler than Sting!"
"How come we have never heard of this band before?"
"The Scariens rock!" exclaimed one extremely white young woman who may have been a vampire, or associated with the walking dead.
"Where the hell is Hillary?"
"She'd just love these Scariens."
"I heard that she and Madonna are spending the weekend with Manny again."
"What do they see in that old shyster?"
"I think he went with them to watch."
"I want to have a President before I get old."
While all the beautiful people raved about the Scariens, an aspiring DJ slipped a Perry Como funk tape into the boombox.
"Shoot! Yes M'am! Get off your rear and jam!" Perry crooned over and over as several large people pretended to dance, with sweat dripping off their bulbous red faces.
"Did you know that Sine-Aid O'Conner was kicked out of a convent before she became famous? It was in the wEakLy wHiRL kNEwZ. I think the Pope fired her for refusing to spank him," Dusty babbled, making small talk with the aging Valley Girl.
The pool party was cool. Everybody dug the show. No hassles. Some big shot producer even signed an option to do a movie with the Scariens. Several record company executives wanted to do lunch.
"Contracts are made to be broken," they all said.
If these party people came to Cher's under the control of evil mutant aliens, they were free now. The hard core mutants had split hours ago, with Dobalina being the first to leave. The Scariens had won this battle and they also got to meet their favorite daytime television personalities.