A Lad Insane
“I had to call someone, so I picked on you.”
The Starman removed his visor, revealing a skeletal face bedecked in sparkling jewels.
The bisexual rockstar nodded his head. A mane of slicked red hair careered across his face and he hitched up his tight waist-high jeans. He had skull designs upon his shoes, and white belt straps upon his jacket. “They’ve put me on these… Ramona put me on these interest drugs,” Ziggy Stardust said. “So I’m thinking very too bit too fast like a brain hatch.”
“Strung out in heaven’s high,” said the Starman.
“I’m so high it makes my brain whirl,” agreed Ziggy.
“I’m hoping to kick but the planet is glowing,” the Starman told Ziggy seriously.
Ziggy pointed at the television. “News guy wept when he told us Earth was really dying. Cried so much that his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying.”
“We’ve got five years left to cry in,” the Starman agreed. He crossed to the open window. “Look out my window,” he instructed.
Ziggy looked. “What do I see?”
“A crack in the sky, and a hand reaching down for me.”
“I really don’t understand the situation,” Ziggy Stardust said.
“It’s no game,” the Starman said. “Now Leon… He couldn’t wait for 12 o’clock midnight. He jumps on the stage with a criss criss machete and slashes around cutting a zero on everything. I mean a zero in the fabric of time itself.”
It slowly dawned on Ziggy. He pointed once more at the TV, and the Starman nodded his head.
“If you pray,” the Starman instructed, “all your sins are hooked upon the sky. Pray and the heathen lie will disappear. Believe in the strangest things; love the alien. Your prayers… they break the sky in two.”
The Starman left him then, heading outside for the reaching hand. When finally he arrived, the hand took him and he ascended. The Starman spoke to the world from up above. “Look at me, I’m in heaven. Everybody knows me now.”
And Ziggy knew the fate of the world rested on him, and him alone.
In the Villa of Ormen a solitary candle was lit. Ziggy clamoured into the tin can and blasted from Earth. Something happened on the day he died. His spirit rose and metre and stepped aside. He took the Starman’s place as saviour of Earth, and bravely cried: “I’m a blackstar.”
“This is Ground Control,” a voice crackled through his earpiece. “It’s time to leave the capsule… if you dare.”
Ziggy looked at the blackhole hovering about Earth, created by Leon slashing at the fabric of time itself. There was only one way to plug it.
“I’m stepping through the door,” Ziggy announced, “and I’m floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different… today.”
As he drifted towards the blackhole, he sang a song of darkness and disgrace:
In the asylum cold and grey,
Where all the madmen come and play,
Ziggy Stardust laughed and cried,
Through a rock ’n’ roll suicide.
In the asylum Ziggy stopped taking his interest drugs, and in return the visions of supermen vanished. Making love with his ego, Ziggy sucked up into his mind like a leper messiah.
He passed his fellow inmates and lamented: “I’d rather play here with all the madman, for I’m quite content they’re all as sane as me.”
But his final day indeed arrive. The kids arrived and killed the man.