| COMPLETED FANFICTION
The author has written this fanfiction from beginning to end. Enjoy!
Angel lives the life of a regular six year old mutant bird kid till she hears a song by EMINEM. At that point she decides to become a rapper. The only problem is that she has to deal with the fact that she is a HUGE minority and she has to be extremely good to even get noticed.
Part One: Finding FameEdit
Just another day. Just another boring day in a long list of boring days in my E-shaped house. The Flock house. Max was out raiding something, she was too far for me to tell, but I needed to remember to pick strawberries tomorrow. I loved strawberry flapjacks.
I sat down on the couch, since nobody else was there, and I saw a movie sitting on the table. I'd already watched all the movies we had millions of times, but this one I'd never seen before. 8 Mile it read on the cover, with Eminem listed as an actor. I put it on.
If Max knew I was watching this stuff, she would go berserk. But she didn't know, so I didn't really worry.
Eminem was not that bad of an actor, and he was a really good rapper. Maybe I could try to be like that... I thought.
Immediately, I got a pencil and a piece of paper and got to work in my room on a rap. It would be about how I felt, living as an escaped lab experiment. Maybe, "Birds of a Feather" would be a good title.
Want to read my first rap? You find them all here. Now where was I?
I'm going to be rich, I thought. I was really going to do. If I sell these, Max will be proud, and we can live safe and sound.
I thought about it, wrote a few more songs, and decide to name the album "Mile High Rhapsody," sort of like a link to me being a bird kid and all.
I go into Max's wallet and take 50 bucks, enough for me to buy a mike and start recording. Took me a few days, but soon I had a five song album.
I mailed the album and a letter to Marshal Mathers, hoping he would accept my album. This meant the world to me.
I really hoped I can pay Max back. And I hoped becoming a rapper will be what does that, not stealing from another bank account.
Just another day at the office. But today, there was something different.
Marshal looks at the stack of letters his secretary brought him, and he looked through it.
"Junk, fan mail, junk, black mail," he muttered to himself, looking for something interesting. "Junk, junk, fan mail, junk, junk- wait, what's this?" he exclaimed, coming across an envelope with the words, "Please give me a chance" neatly handwritten across the top. He opened it.
There was a CD-R inside and a handwritten letter, which read,
I wanted to let you know that you have really inspired me. I know you are a busy man but it would mean the world to me if you gave this a listen.
I know about how you struggled to earn respect and get to the top so if you get a chance, I would be so thrilled if you would meet me and we could talk together. If you decide to see me just meet me at a Burger King right outside Denver.
Signed, your number one fan,
P.S. Fly On.
Marshal put the CD on, and he listened. The first song seemed to be about sadness and loss, and the second one seemed like a revenge song. The demo CD ended on a song about joy and discovery. There's lots of potential here, even though she's a girl, Marshal thought.
Picking up the phone, Marshal called his secretary and arranged a flight to Denver.
By that afternoon, Marshal was on his private jet heading to Denver.
I had no idea how to react. But above all, I wanted Eminem to approve of me, not using mind control. At least I hoped that was possible.
I still had three dollars left, so when I got to Burger King, I bought a $1 Whopper Jr. Then Marshal Mathers himself walked in.
I never thought he would take me seriously, but I guess he did.
"Hello, Angel," Marshal said.
I take a deep breath. "Hi. I'm really glad you showed up. I just want to put myself out there, you know? I just want to show the world who I am through music."
"I'm very impressed by your demo disc, Angel," he smiled. "I'm willing to work with you to expand your potential, if you are willing to work hard."
Then I realized that it is Eminem, not some phony person trying to fuck me over.
"I'm willing to work really hard to make my dream a reality," I said. He nodded.
"That's good. Now, to create interest to your talent, we need to make a music video," he said. I knew exactly where this was going.
"I'm willing to do one for 'Birds of a Feather,'" I said.
Very bright kid, Marshal thought. "Fly to Detroit, and we'll get that done," he said out loud.
"Thank you, sir," I say. He got up and left, but I knew that I had a chance.
"YES!" I screamed in joy.
"Where the hell is ANGEL?" Max screamed at Gazzy. Like usual, he knew nothing.
Where is she? Max thought feverishly. The only clue was the 50 dollars missing from her wallet, the new mic in Angel's room, the stack of blank CD-R's on her desk, and the 8 Mile movie in Angel's computer.
"I'm losing my MIND!" Max screamed, this time at no one in particular. Iggy didn't seem fazed.
"She always comes back to us," he said. "Always."
But Max wasn't that sure.
"We're going to look for her," Max decided. She really needed to do something for Angel.
"Max, this is crazy," Nudge admitted.
That didn't stop Max. "I am crazy," she smiled.
Holly SHIT! I thought. Not only has my music video surpassed the 50 thousand view mark, Eminem and Dr. Dre are thinking of a CONCERT!
Yeah, this sounded absolutely crazy. I was actually in the studio with Eminem and Dr. Dre, discussing the possibility of a concert. There was nothing better in this fucking world than this.
Crazy, I sang in my head. That's one of my other songs.
That's what they call me,
Little crazy bitch,
When they taste my might,
That's what my enemies call me,
"So Angel, we have to do something with your name," Eminem said. "We uploaded your music video under my official channel, but Angel is too soft." He looked seriously at me. "Unless soft white girl music is what you're gonna write."
That almost sounded like a threat. And it's meaning was a real threat. There weren't that many white rappers, and there weren't any six-year-old little white girl rappers at all. I was in a HUGE minority, and Eminem was right. Angel as my artist name was not what I needed.
"What about A-Dawg?" Dr. Dre suggested. It sounded like a nice name that might actually work.
"I like it," I said. I was ready for anything.
"We'll arrange the concert hall ready, and you'll perform in a month," Eminem said.
"Thank you," I said. I was dismissed and I went back into my hotel room.
I was almost asleep when I realized I forgot to tell Max about this. I knew she would be pissed.
"Hi Max," I squeaked. I expected her to scream.
She did. "Where are you, Angel?" Max yelled. "You've got to stop disappearing like this!"
"Well," I tried to say casually. "I'm going to be in a concert in about a month."
"You have to come back!" Max yelled. "I can't keep worrying about you like this."
"Well, this is really important to me. I'll even pay you back. I'm expecting 1.4 million tomorrow."
I heard Max stutter on the phone. I didn't really mean to say it like that, but it just came out. "1.4 million fans?" Max finally said.
"No. US dollars."
"I guess you know what you're doing," Max decided. "Stay safe."
"Thank you so much! I love you!" I said, hanging up. Now that Max was okay with it, I way on my way to fame.
Part Two: Fame FantasyEdit
You could say Max was at least a little bit mad at Angel for leaving and not telling anyone where she was until she showed up on television. But Max always had a soft spot on Angel.
"Really?" Nudge asked, her brown eyes elated with joy. "We're going to see Angel rap in concert, for free?"
"Yes," Max answered. "Ange arranged everything, plane ticket, hotel, the whole lot."
"We're going to be in a plane?" Gazzy gasped. "I've never flown without wings before. Sweet!"
Max was more nervous than excited. Because of Angel's sudden interest in rap, the whole lie low plan went to crap, so she had no idea how this was going to come out.
"The plane's ride is at 4:30, so we should get going now," Iggy announced.
"Dude, there's still another three hours before that," Fang pointed out.
"Didn't you know, you have to arrive at the airport way before?" Iggy said.
"Whatever," Fang said. "Lets go."
Well, maybe I am excited to fly in a plane for the first time, Max thought as they walked to the nearest airport.
I couldn't fucking wait for the concert. I felt like I could rule the world, especially since people were willing to PAY to see me perform. I wrote a few new songs just for my audience.
I guess I was nervous. Eminem was watching, and so was Max and the Flock. I still loved them to death.
I walked to the concert, since Slim Shady didn't let me get a car. He said when you start out, you need to feel the dangers. I had no idea what that meant.
I heard some shouting in an alley, so I checked it out. It was three men smoking something or another.
"Look, it's a little girl," the man named Cole snarled. "I think she's lost."
"Dude, look at her hands," another man, Mark, chuckled. "She's been in fights."
"You idiots," the third guy, Tom, said. "She's Eminem's new bitch, A-Dawg. Let's teach her who's boss."
"Fuck you," I said in a low voice. Somehow, they made me really mad. I made Tom vomit whatever he was eating.
"Hold it there, pussy," Cole pulled out a gun. Though I could kill a full grown man with one finger, I was no match against a gun. I ran.
"I said hold it, bitch!" He started running after me, firing his pistol, shot after shot almost getting me.
I knew if I flew, I would out run him easily, but then my wings would be venerable to the bullets. I kept running.
"AHHHH!" I yelled as a bullet grazed my shoulder. I ran into a record store, looking for the bathroom so I could asses the damage. Cole didn't follow me.
My shoulder wasn't hit that bad, so I ripped up my jacket and wrapped it over the scrape. I would still be able to sing.
But now I knew this was a real dangerous job. I could be attacked by humans, too.
Later at the concert I was nervous, but Max was there.
"I know you don't need it but good luck A-Dawg" said Slim winking. I looked back at him and smiled, but I am going to be honest, I was fucking terrified.
The first song I was supposed to perform was the first, Birds of a Feather, and though I practiced numerous times, I was sweating like hell. I also had no fucking idea who was in the audience, and after the shooting, I was a bit paranoid.
You would probably be bored since you couldn't hear any of it, but I sang all five songs from my first album and then sang Don't Give Up, the song I wrote on the way here.
After the concert, the real trouble started.
"Max, I'm going to join a gang. I really mean it," I told her once we got back to the hotel. "I was shot on my way to the concert, and I think I need to be part of something bigger for safety."
"No," was Max's solid reply. I really loved her, but she was a real pain in the ass sometimes. Go with the flow, Max, I said in her head. I could be her voice.
"Ah! Fine Angel, but if you join this gang, you have to stay safe!" Max shouted.
"Something going on?" Iggy asked, poking his head through the door.
"Nothing," I lied. "Thanks Max, you won't regret this."
"I better not," Max muttered.
After the concert the Flock and I went out to eat at this fancy restaurant. "I'll have the chicken Fettuccini Alfredo" I said.
We all ate and had a wonderful time. "So Angel, how's gang life?" Max said.
"Ix-nay on the ang-gay" I said.
"Wait, you haven't said anything to anyone else have you?" Max said.
"What is she talking about?" said Marshal from behind her.
"Uh, funny story actually." Angel said, then laughed nervously.
"You have a lot of explaining to do" Slim said.
I looked at him and said, "Let's not let something like this ruin the fun."
Slim just shook his head "I lost a good friend of mine because he was involved with a gang. Have you ever heard of 2-Pac?"
"Well..." I responded, trying to come up with an excuse. "I got shot even without joining a gang. I figured I would get better protection."
"That's not the way to do it," Slim said. "If you want protection, get body guards."
Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. With the money I was making, I could defiantly afford body guards.
"How do you quit?" I asked.
"That's up to you," was Slim's only response.
Max had never been happier in her life. Well, maybe except for the day Jeb released them from the School. But nothing else topped her happiness.
"I've never gone to Disneyworld before," Nudge was saying. "Can we visit Cinderella's castle? Oh, I want some of that cotton candy!"
Max was also excited to go to Disney world. They got the VIP pass, so they didn't have to wait in any lines. So far, the day was going awesome.
"Let's go on the highest roller coaster in the park," Gazzy said. "Will you go on it, Angel?"
"Of course," Angel said, but she was looking at something else.
"Is there something wrong, little one?" Max asked, looking worriedly at Angel.
"Someone else is here. And I don't mean other guests," Angel whispered, tapping her body guard on the shoulder. "The man in the black t-shirt. He's a threat."
She's just getting paranoid, Max thought.
Listen to her, Max's voice said. She can teach you more than you can imagine.
"Duck!" Angel shouted as a gunshot rang across Disneyworld.
I guess disaster follows me wherever I go, but I never expected it to follow me to Disneyworld.
"What in the world is going on?" I screamed.
Another gunshot ran in the opposite direction, and the crowd started running towards us.
"Up, up, and away!" Max shouted.
We launched into the air, leaving the happiest place on Earth behind.
After that, I kind of became paranoid. Hey, you know, that's a good name for a song.
I had ten concerts scheduled on this tour and by the time I was getting ready for the next one I was a nervous wreck.
I'm going to come clean I did some shit I'm REALLY not proud of. I did some LSD, some coak, a little speed, and a whole lot of something I found on the street called sweet Alabama lightning fairy-dust. That was probably really bad, but at the time I didn't care.
Later, Max caught me doing some of that shit, and I don't know if it was the drugs or if it was real, but I couldn't tell whether she was pissed or concerned, but I had hit a low in my life so I didn't care.
"Really, Ange? Just, really?" Max scorned. "Is this what you've really become?"
At that point, I had no idea. Just no idea. I fell on my hands and knees and sobbed. I was more disappointed and disgusted with myself than Max could ever be.
Then something unexpected happened. She came over to me, and pulled me close in a loving embrace. Long story short, by the end of the night we were both sniveling slobbering messes.
"I love you the best," I whispered, thoroughly sorry for all I'd done.
"I know that, sweety," Max replied.
Max stared at the shiny blue credit card. It read "Maximum Ride" in the bumpy silver letters. She swiped it into the machine, and it beeped.
"Thank you for shopping at H&M," the clerk said. Max grabbed her bags and left.
Max stepped into her Audi R8 v10, the one with the Lamborghini engine. It was her own car, and she bought it with her own money. Well, Angel's money. But it was so perfect, so fast, so pretty.
For the first time in her life, she could actually have anything she wanted. Whatever she wanted. Money made her feel so important, so strong.
As she stopped at the light, Max looked at an ad on a window. "New apartments in Brooklyn!" it read. There was a name and a phone number.
Oh goody! Max thought. I can get an apartment in Brooklyn and get away from all the stress. Living in a big city and all would be so fun!
Max reached into her eel skin purse and dialed the number on her iPhone 5S. It was the most perfect phone in the world.
Part Three: The Truth of Fame Edit
I had to stop the tour with three venues left. There was a full scale intervention. Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, even Slim and doctor Dre were there.
I got checked into rehab. That was some tough shit. While I was there I started to right another album about my struggles with addiction.
I think kicking the "Arm Candy" was the hardest. eventually I got out, although when I got out I wasn't exactly in the best of moods.
I get back and I am welcomed back by my family, my friends Slim Shady and Dr. Dre.
Max walks out with a cake. Did Max make that? And almost like Max could read "MY" thoughts, she said, "Don't worry, Iggy made it, not me." I love Max, but I can tell she was insulted by how relieved I looked.
Slim stood up, "To Angel. She learned her lesson without an O.D. the prodigal son has returned-"
Slim was saying, then Max cut in with "Daughter, the prodigal Daughter has returned."
Then slim turned around annoyed by Max needing to micromanage everything he said. "That's not the point. The point is she didn't have to come within fifteen minutes of death like I did."
He was thinking back to that time he overdosed in a Detroit hotel room and nearly liquefied his organs. I knew what he was thinking and winced at the thought that it could of just as easily of happened to me.
The rest of the night was a little brighter. Later that night Slim pulled me aside.
"Angel, from my experience the best way to stay sober is to have fun," he advised. "Find something else worthy of your time. Look, I made a lot of mistakes when I was starting out, and I'm just trying to make sure you don't make those exact same mistakes that I did."
I smile. My mentor really cares about me.
Chapter Fourteen Edit
I sit watching rapper A-Dawg on TV. I take a sip of vodka and toss a joint at the TV.
"Why does that fake ass hoe get all this attention and I fade into obscurity?" I say. I have an idea, I have to kill A-Dawg, then people will remember me!
I looked up A-Dawg's Twitter feed. "I'll be in New York signing CDs and body parts."
I knew exactly how to get rid of her. Finally, i had a use for my Uzi.
Chapter Fifteen Edit
Today was autograph signing. People were yelling, begging to get my attention.
"Slim, are autograph signings always this chaotic?" I asked.
"Pretty much," he replied. He thought it would be a bad idea to do it this early on, and I was starting to get why.
In all the stress I said, "Shoot me now."
Ironically enough, I heard a loud bang above the sound of the crowd. All of a sudden there was this searing pain in my arm. I looked down and there was blood pouring down my arm, soaking my pink shirt, dripping onto my shoes.
I heard more gunshots. I got down, rolled under the table, and hit the panic button. Police rushed to the scene, getting me out while looking for the shooter.
"You're going to be just fine," Slim said.
I looked over at Max and saw her tears streaming down her face. "Max? what's wro-" I started to ask, then passed out from blood loss. I didn't remember too much more of what happened after that. All I remembered was that I woke up in the hospital.
"Max? How long have I been out?" I ask. Judging by the wilted petals on the flowers beside my bed I would guess at least a week.
"Angel, I'm moving to Brooklyn in a month," Max said, avoiding my question. "I just wanted you to know that. I love you, sweety."
After what had just happened to me, that felt like a punch in the face. But I sucked it up and hugged Max hard.
"Okay," I replied. Max drove me back home, but I suddenly felt like I lost Max already.
I never knew being a rapper was so dangerous, but I guess I should have known, based on what happened in 8 Mile.
"DAMNIT! the little bitch is still alive." I say. I barely made it out of there. I guess I'm gonna have to step it up a notch.
I think I got her in the arm, but the police came way to fast and there were too many people following that damned fake.
"You're the real star," something says in my ear. I shake it off. Four more minutes until the next dose.
I have to get help from my friends. I feel sorry for anyone stupid enough to be at her next concert, but not sorry enough to not do it. that little bitch is gonna die or I'll die trying.
I look at the bottle of Zyprexa with distaste, they only give it to HARDCORE schizophrenics. I hit the bottle across the room "FUCK IT ALL!!!!" I shout. I fucking hate people.
I suddenly noticed it fell into the fireplace. I sat there, watched the plastic melt, then the pills burned and turned to ash. The smell was mesmerizing.
I'm never going to take my meds again. See how you like that, fuckers.
"I'm sorry I can't go to your concert." Max said.
"Why not?" I asked. Max had been talking about her apartment in Brooklyn, but she had never let me visit.
"I'm moving to Brooklyn, you remember that dear."
Max was gripped with money, and she didn't seem to care for the flock as much as she did before.
"Uh, have fun in Brooklyn, Max. I'll visit you after the concert," I said.
Max waved and walked away, a far away look in her eyes. Every time I looked at her credit card bill, it was filled with thousand dollar shoe purchases and expensive katanas. I didn't know what in the world happened to Max, but whatever it was, it wasn't good.
I had my chauffeur Mike drive me to the concert. After the brush with death in that alley before my first concert, I didn't risk walking around alone.
After all, I did have two attempts on my life just last week.
I think about the latest single I released. War, Peace it was called. It's kind of funny that I could have ever felt that way about anything. There were lots of things that have happened that I can't fix.
I arrive at the concert nervous and really damn depressed. Max wasn't at my last concert, and I really missed her moral support. I checked my phone three minutes before, and I saw a text from Slim.
It read, "Don't go in there." I ran out of the building.
Just as a bomb detonated, lighting everything on fire. I curled into a little ball ten feet away from the blaze crying my eyes out.
Chapter Eighteen Edit
I stabbed the needle into my arm, injecting the murky blue liquid into my viens. Ah, that's better. I didn't even know what was in it, but Zonac gave it to me. With them, I use the name Dovil. It suits me especially with-
"AHHH!!!" I scream, dropping to my knees. I grabbed my stinging arm, barley able to swallow from the pain.
I guess I've had too much. It happened last week as well. I don't know how much of this stuff I can handle, since I started only a month ago.
A month ago, a lot of crap happened, especially after Max didn't visit me. She said she was too busy. I sat there in grief until I couldn't stand it any longer. Finally, I used up the bag of morphine that Marshal gave me as a memento to the last time I quit.
Evalast gave me a cup of brandy, and I downed it. The pain lessened a little, but not really. I might as well stay here with my buds, Zonac aka Peter, Evalast aka Michelle, and Batterypunk aka Nick.
There was something wrong with all our backgrounds, but none of us gave a fuck. We just found new stuff to try for our group, and if we contributed, we were allowed to stay. It's symbio-whatever, man. Especially since I could buy whatever crap I wanted.
"Shit, is the sky turning purple?" I staggered. It hurt just to sit up. I lay down.
"Dovil, your trippin'. Get some rest," Batt said, or was it Evalast?
"Kay," I said, then blacked out.
Chapter Nineteen Edit
"I don't give a damn that you ran out of size 6 and a half. I want the Chesapeake!" Max demanded.
On the other side of the country, life was stressful for the unflappable Maximum Ride. Everyday, Max fought department stores across New York City for the best stuff, and every time Max made a purchase, she waited for Angel to approve her purchases on the credit card.
"Sorry, you can come back tomorrow," the sales clerk said wearily. This had already happened twice this week.
"What's wrong with you?" Max yelled. "Do you have the money, or do I! Go fuck yourself!" And with that, Max burst out of the store.
Suddenly, Max got a text on her new iPhone 6 Plus. Of course it was the latest model, the one that came out last month. She trashed her old phone, only wanting the latest and greatest.
"Angel's in trouble," the text read. It was from Fang.
"Oh, shit," Max muttered. She called Southwest Airlines and arranged a flight to Denver within the hour.
Part Four: ReturnEdit
When I woke, bright lights stung my eyes. I looked at the familiar clinically clean white walls. I had an IV drip in my arm and absolutely no recollection of the past month.
There were flowers next to my bed that were totally dead, then another vase with fresher flowers, but they were already wilting. I didn't remember getting that hurt from the concert hall exploding, so I had no idea what was going on.
A nurse wearing cyan scrubs was walking by, so I decided to ask her what was going on.
"Why am I here, miss?" I asked.
She looked at me warily. "You almost vaporized your brain, punk. You're lucky you're even alive."
I shuddered, wondering what had happened in the missing part of my memories.
"But someone is here to see you," the nurse added.
Max walked into my room, eyes red like she had been crying. She rushed to me and hugged me real good.
"I'm so glad you're not dead." Max sobbed. Tears streamed down her face, running streaks down her perfect make-up.
"Oh Max," I said. I patted her hair gently. "I'm still here."
"Barley," the nurse cut in. "You were almost dead when Marshal found you."
"I'm sorry I haven't been here for you," Max said. She held something in her hand. "I've got a present for you."
I opened the box to find a small crystal statue of a swan. It's wings were spread as if in flight.
"I love it," I yelled. I knew I would keep it forever.
"I'll be here for you, Ange," Max promised. "From now on, I won't let you down."
Chapter Twenty-One Edit
"Need to kill fucking A-DAWG!" I screamed, sending my table crashing into the wall. Three attempts. Three fuck-ass attempts, and the whore was still singing her crap songs and selling her shit records.
Fuck all of humanity,
Don't stop until they're all gone,
'Cus they don't get to mess with me- me-,
Uh, can't get that line right. A-Dawg should burn in HELL!
More desperate measures need to be taken. I'll need something more.
"Murder me in my sleep," A-Dawg seemed to say. I hadn't taken my meds since I burned them months ago.
Hey, maybe I need to go to her house, and kill her while she isn't watching. That's my best plan yet.
The next morning I was still in the hospital and I woke up with a pain in my arm.
"Nurse? Could you contact Slim? I'd like to talk to him," I said. She rolled her eyes and went to the phone.
I had no fucking clue why she didn't like me. I was no worse than some of the people in this hospital. I made some mistakes, so fucking what? Did the fact that I was famous mean I have to be a fucking porcelain doll? I thought people realized that I am still human and prone to making mistakes.
I hated people who judged, and I wished they'd understand that I'm fucking six years old. Did they accomplish all this when they were six? No. So they shouldn't pretend to understand what I was going through and judge me on only my mistakes.
I've done more than wrong. They should see that.
Then out of all that anger, my underlying sadness came out. The memories of the past month came back, and I suddenly realized why I had even relapsed into drugs. I started balling like a baby.
The nurse turned to stare at me. She was already judging me, but you know what? I didn't give a fuck! I was human, I made mistakes, and I disappointed people sometimes!
I sobbed even harder. "I wish I was never famous." I said in a whisper.
I was a little kid and I was being judged harder than a convicted serial killer for a relatively small mistake. I just sat there and cried.
I never felt worse in my life. This was even worse than Max leaving me.
After talking to Slim on the phone, they released me from the hospital with a stupid metal cuff on my leg. I couldn't leave my house for a week, just until they knew I wouldn't relapse.
"Don't do that again, you hear me?" Slim said forcefully. "I don't accept that behavior, A-Dawg." I nodded, but I wasn't all that sure that my life was going to get all that better with or without drugs.
"I mean it, girl," Slim continued. "This is for your own good. You won't get that far with this kind of behavior. Plenty of rappers die from things like this. Don't think you're immune just 'cause you have wings."
I shrugged. "I just didn't know where to go. My only family seemed to care more about their money and freedom than me, and I'd never lived that way. I'm six for crying out loud!" I was pissed that my whole flock left me.
And it wasn't just Max. Nudge was buried in a mountain of fashion, make-up, and her glob of celebrity friends. Iggy and Gazzy ran into trouble every day, blowing up houses, hotels, and the occasional RV. Fang disappeared for whole weeks at a time and came back with unexplainable injuries. My life was in a total shit hole, and I didn't feel like stepping up.
"A-Dawg, I know things have fallen apart. But what holds them to you right now is your money, and you can't lose that," Slim said. I knew exactly what he meant. And I was really scared of that possibility.
"Girl, if you don't shape up, I'm gonna cancel your contract. And I mean it."
I found the whore's address easily enough. She posted it on her Tumblr.
I drove to her house at four in the morning, expecting lots of fans. Instead, I found a guard standing outside her house.
I got my CD ready, and I stepped out of my car. I saw a shiny white Audi parked in the driveway, but I couldn't imagine A-Dawg driving such a respectable car. Whatever.
"What are you doing here?" the big security guard asked.
"I want to get A-Dawg's autograph!" I said in my best fan boy voice. I showed the guard my CD.
He went inside, and I stood on the front porch, waiting. "This is the chance to KILL the fucking bitch!" someone said. I didn't even know why I ever took meds at all. Life's so much better on the edge.
Suddenly, the door opened and the short little bitch came out with this smile that only six year old innocence could pull off. Almost as if she could read my mind, the smile disappeared and was replaced by a sneer that could only come with years of shit.
"Hi Alex," A-Dawg greeted. "What do you want?"
I hadn't told her my name yet. Maybe there was more to A-Dawg than meets the eye.
I let the strange guy into my house. He looked wild, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"Would you like my autograph?" I asked him. It sounded like something normal to start out with.
"No thank you," he actually had the nerve to say. "I just need a place to stay."
I couldn't tell what was going on in his head, but I had a feeling he was schizophrenic. Crazy people were really hard to read.
I led him into my guest room and closed the door behind him. That guy gave me the creeps.
I returned to songwriting in my room. I couldn't think of anything so I continued until the sun started to rise, so I got ready for bed.
"You're still awake?" Max asked when she woke up. We shared a room.
"Haven't gone to sleep yet," I admitted.
"Good night, Ange," she said. She took out her iPhone and started shopping on her phone. Some things never got better.
I almost fell asleep when Alex flung himself at me with a kitchen knife.
I screamed, sliding to one side. He missed and stabbed my arm. I yelped, the pain blurring my vision.
I couldn't see all that well, but Max came in and sliced Alex clean in half with one of her expensive katanas. She looked so badass, blood covering her sleeping gown, holding the gleaming blade.
That was the last I saw before I passed out from blood loss.
I wake up in a hospital room. According to how many vases dead flowers there were I must have been out for a while. Maybe even longer than last time, or maybe they just brought more flowers.
"What the hell happened?" I asked.
The nurse turned to me, although this time I didn't see hate and distaste in her hazel eyes. I simply saw something almost like pity.
"ANGEL YOUR OKAY!!!!!" exclaimed Max as she ran into the room. The rest of the flock followed.
"How long have I been out?" I ask.
She looked at me and said, "About a month. I'm so glad your okay." She crushed me in a monster hug.
I looked at her. "If by okay, you mean ALIVE, then yes, but by any other definition, I have to disagree. I think my pain meds are wearing off." I gripped my side and winced.
Slim walked into the room with a look of relief on his face. Slim Shady kind of became an honorary flock member because of how he has treated all of us.
"YOUR ALIVE!!!" said Slim.
"Look Slim, I have something to tell you. I want to retire. Sorry, but the star life just isn't for me." I said.
He looked a little surprised, not upset. Just surprised. "Well, you'll always be a star in our book" says Slim.
Then everyone else in the flock shouted in agreement.
A few months later.
"Happy birthday, my little rapper," Iggy cheerfully said.
It hadn't been that long since I was a full time rapper, but Max had sold her Brooklyn apartment, and Fang had stopped disappearing. Obviously, Iggy and Gazzy had stopped their madness. Sadly, Nudge didn't return.
"Thanks, Iggy. Yea, strawberry cake. My favorite," I smiled. After all the shit that happened, I realized I loved my family above all else.
About fifty of my most loyal fans were there, and of course Marshal and Dr. Dre were there.
"I'm so proud of you, A-Dawg," Slim said. He hasn't seen me so happy since I started, and I'm so glad I've stopped.
"I know. It's taken so long, and so much work, but I've got most of my flock back," I said. "Except Nudge," I mumbled, but in the commotion of the party, no one heard.
I worked hard at making my family whole again. Max didn't want to let go of money, and it turned out Fang joined a gang. But with our mistakes came breakthroughs, and I even got Ig and Gazzy to stop right before they blew up the Empire State Building.
"Let's all give a toast to A-Dawg, our brilliant retired rapper," Slim said. People laughed and drank, but I stayed away from drink. I'd been working really hard at that.
"She's been sober for a little over two and a half months," Slim announced, and there was a bit of cheering and applauding. I wasn't happy that it took so long, but I was happy again.
But I still had something to tell my friend and producer.
"Slim, I've just written a new album. Will you make it with me?"
He looked at me sternly. "I thought you weren't going to do this anymore," he said.
I nodded. "I know, but I just had to. Inspiration called, and I couldn't let it die."
"Okay, just one last release," he said. "No more."
"Thank you," I breathed. "To my latest album!" I exclaimed.
Please do not vandalize this poll or vote before you finish the fanfiction.
Thank you for taking your time to rate this fanfiction. Your comments are always welcome as long as they do not violate the policy of the site.