Shooting Star Scarlette -Request Heavier-Lobster

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Black was black. At least Shooting Star Scarlette thought it was. It could be red, blue, green or a trip to see the queen for all she knew because she lived in 2016 and the future was an uncertain pink blancmange  of a place with hundreds and thousands of bright multi-coloured uncertainty bits on top and an oily fluid in which it swam below.
Not that Rachel let it bother her unduly. As far as she was concerned she was living in the big fat present and she had drumsticks. Not the chicken ones but the wooden variety and something to hit them on- A ten piece drum-kit.
Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam. Tinkle bam, tinkle bam tinkle bam bam.
She was green good. Evergreen and it was her ability to hit beats.
Rachel, her real name was a young rocker girl, with long fiery red hair, a black t shirt and shorts, a pair of headphones, and a big fat cigar in her mouth. Shes shy and doesn’t say much. Since she doesn’t say much, she often communicates by blowing symbols or messages out of smoke from her cigar. As we already know, her nickname is Shooting Star Scarlette.
She gains more confidence while performing though. Before her drum solo, she’ll light the tips or her drum sticks with her cigar, twirl them and grin. The following solo is usually so fast-paced that the drum kit ends up exploding in her face and covering her in soot.
So now we know a little pink about Rachel. So now for some blue and green and yellow AND OF COURSE black too.
Practice session at the garage again. Orange. Pain, Oh the pain! It was sometime before or after dinner and she was working on songs. It was her dads purple garage with electricity (for a heater, light and kettle or fridgette). Blankets stood piled on top of the ‘spare’ fridge freezer where spiders had their home but mice couldn’t reach. A great big hairy specimen crept forward from its grey home or cobweb, its two pedipalp waving like Gandalf’s’ staff ahead of it before exploring the underside of the blanket below then re-appearing and settling down for the show/a rest/to digest last night’s fly supper properly.
Rachel was also adjusting. Should she have the garage door closed or open? Her brother may pay a visit later on and she wouldn’t like to have to stop mid flow. Bam bam, tinkle bam, tinkle bam tinkle. Her practice band (FAVORITE) was playing in her headphones as she got ready for the session. It was getting dark outside and the sky was cloudless and turning a delicious blue, purple black with the odd silver white highlight to twinkle see as the temperature dropped slowly grey tomato green.
Tonight or this evening Rachel was on a high like the sky feeling cool and ready to begin. She took a puff on her cigar and blew praying hands to her god, crossed fingers to her family and friends and blew the sign of the horns to whomever, then again for good measure. The spider shifted ever so slightly. She grinned.
Bam bam, tinkle bam bam tinkle bam
Bam bam tinkle bam bam bam
BAM tinkle BAM tinkle BAM bam BAM tinkle.

It was the day of the gig, their biggest ever at the blue palace that was the glorified golden gig gate! Coins!  To say she was looking forward to it would be to underestimate the thrill she got from performing in public. It was like a drug to her. Ever since she had first picked up her brothers disused sticks and bashed the sheen off the dining room table. Yellow pain in vain. And then got a hold of a practice pad under lessons that her mother had arranged for her the thrill of being seen or HEARD. Was the greatest thing she knew. Better than boys for sure. And tonight she would be playing in front of 750 to 1200 screaming fans. This was good, she told herself and blew a smoke symbol, a cap with the letters GOOD above the peak in gold. She grinned in anticipation of the event to come. All that practice, all that work and expense. It had been sixteen months since the band had come together. A mis-mash of other bands that had formed, performed for a while, and then broken up acrimoniously or otherwise. They were tight like mice they said of themselves. Tight like mice. Whatever that meant. But people used to chant it at their gigs. Tight like mice, tight like mice, tight like mice, tight like mice.
In her hand she carried her drum stick case, on her head were her head phones and in her mouth was the never ending big fat cigar. Its smoke anti-gravity like helium rose upwards along with black soot from its tip. She flicked the end and a half inch of ash fell off exposing the red hot core. She could see herself lighting the end of her drumsticks later on tonight and unconsciously exhaled a smoke message of her doing just that.
The green room was expensively furnished, complete with environmental monitoring and climatic control system Halon Fire system and comfortable chairs. Flashing lights completed the room like a cherry cherry pie pie with ice ice cream cream, sweet, sweets or squirty squirty cream cream. The other members of the band were almost all there. Andy was upstairs, being the charming asshole that he was, flute in hand near to mouth like the pied piper of Hamlyn to the session musicians who would gather round and laugh with him, joke with him and all for the pleasure of hearing him play, apparently. David was at his guitar with one of the roadies who was also 2nd guitarist setting up a pedal. Technical stuff. Geoff was busy typing at his laptop where the mixing got databased. He was a brain at this also. Mathematically minded. Computer games were provided in a LAN party style over Wi-Fi so the band could head off on a mission together and relax before the big performance later on that day. Left with her thoughts Rachel’s mind turned towards her friends and one girl in particular who she had met only recently but who wanted seemingly to be her new friend, her brother and mother and father and The Father and the fans some of whom would be let into the green room for a quick chat and get to have a get to know you and hand out some autographed pictures. Blue blue blue. Who are you? Who was behind that gaze the other day that has stuck in mind drawing pinned to my conscience and red, red, red, in my head, head, head? Rachel liked meeting fans but was all ‘not too much bother’ when confronted with their smiling beaming teeth like so many lighthouses from which to take warning s from. Sometimes it made her head spin but that was nothing to what she had planned for them tonight. Heads will spin, Heads will roll, Black is the colour in my Soul soul soul and rocking is its goal goal goal. Another message in smoke roses and thorns and drumsticks within. Green and gold, in my soul, no time to wait, do not hesitate, GOLD, GOLD, and GOLD.
In a dream a red red robin (a bob bob bobbin along) raised its little head head and sung sung sung before returning to bob bob bobbin along.
The time was 5.00. Time for some food and a nap maybe or a text to Bob, Sheila, Nancy flew, raindrop, the crew, bug bug aloo.
Denny from driving came along. Single but seeing someone he was a bit of a looker and knew it enough to get himself around the ladies before the event.
‘Hiya drummer!’ said Denny grinning like a lighthouse.
‘Hey skiver’ said Geoff. Rachel waved her hand and blew a Symbol of friends holding hands walking through trees, before they emerged from the other side instruments in hands, hands in the air.
‘Can I get you a beer?’ asked Denny sweeping his arm out in front of the buffet table like it was his own.
Another symbol, this time of an old woman at a well turning the handle then letting it go.
‘I did this for you’ said Denny proffering a scrolled piece of canvas to her.
Rachel took the gift and looked at it. It was a shooting star star like the DA favorite Added icon but with added nebulae and star clusters.
‘Aww thanks Denny’
‘Aww thanks Denny, Denn Den DEN’ Now you’ve upset my RHYTHM’ shouted Geoff rising to his feet.
‘Oh dear’ said David, ‘Corvoooornia’
Silence. A smoke symbol of the Devil appearing from a cloud of smoke floated up to the ceiling.
A pause. ‘Beer Geoff’’ Asked Denny, winking at Rachel.
‘Fuck you Denny’ said Geoff sitting down again.
Denny and Rachel then together ‘said fuck you, A pound in the swear box.
‘You swore too’ said Dave
‘What did the idiot say to the priest? ’…’I want to bury youuuuuuu!’ sang everyone.’#1 band’
The ace of spade spades.

Blue Green Red. I want to take you to bed. Red Olive Green. Tell me all that you have seen. Black olive drab. Watch me eat my scab.

It was 7:30 and the lights were lighting up the support act on stage. The crowd that was in tonight filled the front two thirds of the concert hall. But people were still arriving. The ticket sellers wore black bomber jackets and Doctor Marten’s boots over White Fred Perry Shirts. It was dark inside the hall at the back but if you looked hard you could make out the faint glow of cigarettes being dragged on inside surreptitious hand hands. Blue blue blue Smoking Red Bugaboo. A much older band were playing first, a reggae act well respected in the town and known internationally  having toured for over thirty years over the globe, working through well-known favourites to warm up the crowd of gig goers expectantly waiting for the main act.
Applause and whooping aplenty was now coming from the audience as the final intro tune was played. The compare came on introducing the main act and music from his IPod came out of the banked speakers from either side and above and below the stage while he told jokes to the now warmed up crowd.
Rachel was the First on stage from stage right the rest of the band appeared to thunderous applause and more whooping before launching into their first song of the set. Rachel had the spotlight on her and her ten piece rig as the first tune began. BAM, BAM, BAM tinkle BAM. The crowd started jumping around and the gig was underway.
As the night’s hour progressed through their set list from the catalogue some covers were played. There was Weepers Beverley Hills, Buddy Holly, and then Connection by Elastica before they rocked into Esteem by The Offspring.
The crowd were now chanting loudly Tight like mice, tight like mice, tight like mice and then the opening riffs of their biggest hit containing a Huge Drum Solo began. Slide guitar melded seamlessly with heavy metal riffs and prosaic lyrics and thumping drums beat out a fast paced rocking anthem.
Dave’s thin hips were rocking backwards and forwards over the wailing sounds coming from his guitar and the concentration on him was palpable as almost a thousand eyes watched him play. Rachel was drumming a quiet part of the song when the crowd began chanting ‘make a wish, make a wish, make a wish, and make a wish.
Bam, bam, bam, bam, tinkle bam, tinkle bam, tinkle, and bam went the drums and the crowd chanted. Andy’s flute was adding a haunting melody to the bare drum beats and the almost ethereal sounds of the crowd chanting make a wish in a hushed chorus added to the effect. Then quietly the whole auditorium fell silent and all the lights went out.
Andy played an old folk tune on his flute with the notes dancing this way and that before he fell silent again. A spotlight opened on Rachel sitting at her drums. Her crystal headphones reflected the light of the spot like a mirror-ball into a thousand beams. The cigar in her mouth glowed red. She took a draw and the spotlight dimmed. On the big screen a close up of the end of her cigar as it glowed with her draw until a flame appeared. She lit the ends of her drumsticks with her cigar and twirled them and grinned…
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