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"HE MET MARMALADE DOWN AT OL' MOULIN ROUGE STRUTTIN' HER STUFF ON THE STREEET!!"
"Clint will you turn that God forsaken song off the goddam stereo!"
"SHE SAID HELLO, HEY JOE, YOU WANNA GIVE IT A GO? OH!! AW YAH!"
"Get off the damn table, Clint!" Scott called, broom in hand. Clint snatched the broom from his brother and sang into it like a microphone.
"GIUCHIE GIUCHIE YA YA DA DA, come on Scott! GIUCHIE GIUCHIE YA YA HERE. Bob? MOCHA CHOCA LA TA YA YA. OOO YAH!"
Bob, smiling hopped onto the table to join in. "CREOLE LADY MARMALAAAADE!" the twins sang. Their older brother rolled his eyes and folded his arms, waiting for the opportunity to grab his broom back.
Almost exactly as he had guessed, Dave laughed at the chaotic scene unrolling before him. He entered just in time to see the first chorus of the Moffatt version of "Lady Marmalade," Scott's all time least favorite song. He laughed as his triplet brothers danced along the dining table as they attempted to avoid stepping on the leftover mess from the party that had ended only an hour before. Scott stood by looking unamused but deep down Dave knew he was.
"Oh YAY! It's Davey!" Clint called hopping down to let Bob sing the next verse. Clint pulled Dave to the table where the two hopped up and sang the backup vocals.
"Hey sistah go sistah soul sistah flow sistah," the belted.
Scott remained his stern look and his brothers knew they had to get him up with them to sing something or at least had to make him laugh. Bob began unbuttoning his shirt at the chorus and licking his lips like a stripper. Soon enough Scott bust out laughing and they pulled him onto the table all pointing at him when the chorus began to end.
"Alright, alright," he laughed taking a deep breath. "We come through with the money in the garter belts, let 'em know we got that cake straight out the gate, uh, we independednt women, some mistake us for whores. I'm sayin why spend mine when I can spend yours? Disagree? Well that's you and I'm sorry, I'm gonna keep playin these cat's out like Atari wearin high heel shows, gettin' love from the dude's, four bad ass chicks from the Moulin Rouge!"
They all sang "Hey sistah, soul sistah, bettah get that dough sistah!"
Scott picked up a wine glass and went on, "We drink wine with diamonds in the glass by the case, the meaning of expensive taste. We wanna giuchie giuchie ya ya, mocha choca lata, Creole Lady Marmalade, one mo' time Dave..."
"Marmalaaaaade," the sang "LADY MARMALAAAAADE! MARMALAAAADE!"
"HEY! HEY! HEEEEY!" Dave continued as he sang the verse most purposefully done by Christina Aguilera.
They went on with the end of the song when Frank Moffatt came in laughing.
"Christina," he said.
"Au Laaaaait OHHH!" Dave sang.
"Pink,"
"Ladaaaaay Marmalade!" Bob laughed.
"Lil' Kim,"
"Hey, hey, uh uh uh uh uh uh uh!"
"Mya,"
"Oh, oh, ohhhhh,"
"It's the Moffatts,"
"Baby," Bob sang softly.
"Moulin Rouge,"
"Oooh, ohhh, da doo da doo,"
"It's Frank here,"
"CREOLE LADY MARMALAAAAAAAADE!! YES AHHH!!" They all collapsed onto the table not caring that they landed on dirty paper plates and leftover drinks spilled onto them. They put a lot into that performance.
"I think maybe you boys should do a cover of that song in concert," their step-mom Sheila smiled, walking into the room.
"Nah, it wasn't that good," Clint smiled.
"Oh, I think it was," Sheila smiled. "And I got it all on video if you'd like to see for yourself." She withdrew a small video camera from her side and winked.
"You WHAT?!?" Scott cried. Even the triplets looked a bit irked. Scott jumped off the table and went chasing after Sheila who jetted into the bathroom and bolted the door shut laughing.
"You can watch it when this house is clean," Frank laughed.
"I don't want to watch it!" Scott cried. "I want to destroy it!"
"There's not much more destrying you could have done to the song," Sheila joked from behind the bathroom door.
"Heeey!" Bob called. "I resent that!"
"Yeah," Clint agreed. "I think it was pretty good!"
"Mmmhmmm..." Dave smiled sarcastically. "That was obvious Juno material, oh yes."
"Okay, okay, boys," Frank called to order. "Fun is done, clean up time."
A chorus of groans came from all around but the boys all went to their designated clean up areas and got to work.
sexyguitarboy83: hey!
butterflygurl123: Hey, Scott! What's up?
sexyguitarboy83: oh, nm, im trying to ignore the brothers
butterflygurl123: LOL, good luck. What are they doing?
sexyguitarboy83: there hula hooping
sexyguitarboy83: and screaming
sexyguitarboy83: and laughing
butterflygurl123: It's "they're," Scott.
sexyguitarboy83: yea, whatever :P
butterflygurl123: Got plans for tonight?
sexyguitarboy83: no, wanna go somewere?
butterflygurl123: Sure. What do you want to do?
sexyguitarboy83: we could c a movie or something
butterflygurl123: "c" a movie? Scott, you know how much that bugs me.
sexyguitarboy83: once again, :P
butterflygurl123: A movie sounds good. Want to meet at my house at... 8:30?
sexyguitarboy83: sure
butterflygurl123: Okay. :-)
They talked for a little while longer until Natasha had to go. Scott took the opportunity to check his mail again. What was this message? Had a fan gotten his address? He didn't recognize the name. Maybe it was spam? Not unless the spammer personalized every message. The subject was "Hey Scott." He opened the message. "Hey, Scott," he read. "I'm watching you. I love you Scott. I can see you right now. I like your shirt. I'm not making this up Scott. I can see your wearing a black shirt with a Canadian flag on the front and jeans which are fraying at the heels." Scott looked down. Sure enough, that's what he was wearing. He looked out his window. Nobody. It
had to be some joke his brothers were playing on him.
He continued reading. "Meet me tomorrow morning at 10:00 at the park down the street. Please? I need you Scott. You are the air I breathe. The water I drink. Come to me. Love, your secret admirer."
Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right." He went over to his window, leaned out, and yelled to the triplets (who were now having a staring contest), "Hey, nice email you sent me!"
"What?" Dave said.
"Nice note!"
"What note?" Bob asked.
"You blinked!" Clint exclaimed.
Bob just rolled his eyes. "What email, Scott?"
"The one you guys just sent me.. like some stalker note."
Dave looked worried. "We've been out here the entire time.. none of us have gone in since you yelled at us to shut up."
"Yeah, sure," he said. But now he wasn't so confident... they seemed like they were telling the truth. They seemed to honestly not know what note he was talking about. He heard the chime of a new instant message come. He turned around and saw it was an unfamiliar screen name.
iluvscott2000: hey, did u get my email?
sexyguitarboy83: what email would that be?
iluvscott2000: the 1 asking u 2 meet me
Scott ran back over to the window. All three of his brothers were still out there. There was no way it could be them. His heart started racing.
sexyguitarboy83: who are you, where are you, and how did you get my email address and screen name?
iluvscott2000: my name is mandie i was waching u b4 but i had 2 move bcuz u were looking around
sexyguitarboy83: my name isn't Scott, I think you're confusing me with someone else
iluvscott2000: haha, u cant fool me, i no who u r
sexyguitarboy83: stalking is illegal
iluvscott2000: so is runing a red lite but u do that
sexyguitarboy83: WHAT???
Now Scott was really freaked out. He had just run a red light earlier that day. No friends had been with him. As far as he knew, nobody he knew knew about it.
sexyguitarboy83: if you try to contact me again, I'm going to all the police
iluvscott2000: they cant do nething im not doing nething to hurt u
sexyguitarboy83: go away
iluvscott2000: but i luv u scott
sexyguitarboy83: you can't love me, you don't know me
iluvscott2000: sure i do i watch u so much
sexyguitarboy83: you have never met me, nor talked to me until now. you do not know me. please leave me alone.
iluvscott2000: no i wont, i luv u!!!
sexyguitarboy83: goodbye
He blocked her. Then he got up, closed his window and curtains, and sat back down on his bed. Mandie. A stalker named Mandie. What a typical teenybopper name. He had a stalker. Or was it some friend playing a joke on him? If it was, that person wouldn't be his friend very long. How could he know if she was real? The only way he could think of was to go meet her tomorrow morning. But no, he couldn't do that. That would be stupid. But then he'd be scared all the time, not knowing if there was someone watching him or not. "I'll ask Natasha what she thinks. She'll know what to do," he thought to himself. He checked his watch. Time to go over to her house.
“So, uh… Alicia … Where do you live?” Clint was trying to make conversation.
“You brought home a STALKER!?” Frank took Scott aside and hissed at him.
"She's not a stalker!!" Scott hissed back.
“Um… I… I’m... Homeless.” Alicia hung her head.
Frank gave Scott a look. “Oh, pu-lease! That’s the oldest routine in the book. Really, Scott, I’d think you’d know better.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Shelia clasped her hands. “You SHALT stay here TONIGHT!”
Alicia didn’t look surprised. “Thank you.”
Shelia motioned to Scott. “Uh, I’ll show you your room. I assume you won’t mind sleeping in the triplets’ room?”
“Don’t you mean, ‘will the triplets mind me staying in their room?’”
“Uh… yeah. Whatever.” He opened the door and began to detoxify the triplets’ room.
Natasha came upstairs and leaned in the doorway. “Phone for you, Scott.”
“Oh, thanks. I’ll be right back, ‘Kay?”
“’Kay.”
Once Scott had gone Natasha looked Alicia in the eye and asked, “What’s your deal?”
“Calm down!” She motioned for Natasha to sit on the bed next to her. “I have been sent her by… God. The Lord Most High, Yahweh, The Higher Being, Our Father… Whatever you want to call Him. Each person has a protector. A ‘guardian angel’, if you will. I am Scott’s.”
“But why are you here?”
“Scott is headed for some really tough times. I need to physically be here for him. Just floating around behind him won’t be enough.”
They sat for a moment in silence. “What are you thinking?”
“That you’re so full of shit it’s coming out your eyeballs.”
“Just wait! You’ll see tomorrow morning.”
“Whatever.”
Natasha awoke to the sounds of the city floating through her sunny bedroom window. She stood up and yawned.
“Natasha!” Her mother called. “Time to get up!”
“I’m up.” She said groggily and stumbled downstairs into the kitchen. She poured herself a bowl of Wheaties and a glass of juice and sifted through the paper for the funnies.
She lifted the front page and froze.
125 Killed in Theater Bombing
Last night, during a showing of, “The Stench of Evil,”
125 people were killed when the Carran Theater was
bombed by suspected terrorists…
Natasha sat down, stunned.