You Never Know What Might Happen

Title is: You Never Know What Might Happen.

Author is: Oozie

Disclaimer is: I own Stu, the narrator (and I like to do terrible things to him). I do NOT, however, own Brian Hugh Warner, because he is his own person. I obviously do not own Canton, Ohio, or any of it's residents.

Feedback: Yes. If you give me feedback and leave your penname or a link to a story of yours, I will always return the favour by leaving feedback on your work.

This story: Was a challenge I issued myself. The challenge was: Can you write a story, and about half way through it, make the last sentence, the first sentence, and the title the same?

Codes: No sex in this, just some bad language, angst, anger, regret...stuff like that.

Author's Note is: This is my first story in the series of Stu stories I have written. I hope to put the other ones up shortly. Cheers.

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You never know what might happen.

Who would've known? I didn't think Brian would ever be famous. I thought he would kill himself. Or shoot up the school.

But he obviously didn't need my help. He's a star now. Sometimes I wonder...

I knew Brian before he got big. He was a misfit, definitely, but I liked him. No lie.

You know, if you asked the kids in this town if they were friends with Brian, they'd all say yes. Every jock and prep that tormented him, every girl that laughed in his face. All of them wish they'd been nicer to him now.

I'm glad for him. I really, really am. Sure, I'm jealous as fuck, but I really am glad for him. I miss him.

Sometimes people will ask me what he looks like under all his makeup. I tell them I think he's beautiful, fucking gorgeous, and I guess I have the company of thousands of goth and metal girls across the nation. They usually laugh, or look at me funny.

Oh my! A guy that thinks another guy is beautiful! What WILL we do!?

When he was a kid, he was really cute, nerdy, I guess. But I don't know. I liked him. I guess I had a crush on him. I met him at school, and when we were about thirteen, I started to think about things differently.

So I dyed my hair bright pink, stuck safety pins through my uniform, wore swastikas instead of crosses, and started saying that I fucked Jesus. I was a budding little anti-christ. And this was a Christian school, on top of everything else.

I guess I was advanced for my age. But that was that. Punk did something for me.

I had a cousin called Crumbs in LA, who was a "personal friend" of Darby Crash, who introduced Crumbs to punk rock. Crumbs then introduced me to punk (and some other things, which are far more personal), and the rest is history.

But besides looking different, I was thinking different, too. I started to think about people in different ways, especially Brian, who I discovered I desired. But I didn't have the courage to tell him. I was a sissy in a way.

All the kids in this town are trying to write to Brian now, saying they always thought he was cool, they were just playing. I hate them. Liars! Fakes! Hypocrites! Even...Poseurs! I hate that word. But oh well. Ah, but Brian would never fall for it. He's way too smart for those cunts.

But he's Marilyn Manson now! Oh! Mob him! Rip off his clothes! I HATE all the hype. "Rock stars" are just people. Damn.

They still hate me, the people in this town. Because I have a mohawk and I wear plaid pants. That's about the only reason. Boohoo, poor little punk boy don't got no friends. Let them tears flow.

Yeah, I'm a punk and he's "goth" or "metal" or even "glam", but you know, I don't give a flying fuck. I'd be just as bad as all these liars if I cared what kind of clothing he wore, how he wore his hair, or anything fucking stupid like that.

If he ever comes back here, back to Canton, I wonder if he'd remember me. Probably not. But it doesn't matter now.

He's married now, right? Dita Von Teese? She aint no where as good as Bettie Page. Playboy is boring anymore.

So? So what? This is pointless. There's no reason to be writing this. It feels right, though. Feels good to get this shit off my chest.

I wanna fuck him, almost as much now as I did all those years ago. There's something about him that's irresistible, charming and scary at the same time. I love the guy, always have.

But it's okay. He's got fame and...happiness?

I don't know about happiness. I just wish him the best. He sure deserves it.

Maybe I should write him a letter, too.

You never know what might happen.