New and collected works in the far-flung universe from:
@Fromthebar
@benjammies
@Matt_Weber
@elveloy
@Holly_Gonzalez
@krazydiamond
@Lynn_Vroman
@Red_Harvey
And four contest winners!
Cover credit: @benjammies
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I made my name in the deejaying world by being bizarre. I mean, even my name, DJ Marilyn Grotesque, offers the punters a clue to the sort of show I put on.
I've modelled myself on Marilyn Manson in his Tainted Love video. I stride into ordinary, regular parties and turn them into freak shows. Party hosts who want to shock their guests, love me. I always give them an experience they'll never forget... no matter how much they may want to.
Tonight's booking is my best payday ever, so I'm determined not to disappoint.
My black 1970 Lincoln Continental low-rider scrunches to a halt on the gravel drive at the front of the impressive mansion. Tonight it's going to be DJ Marilyn's mansion. My driver hits the pneumatics and the front of the car bounces like a kangaroo on steroids. A low, piercing, banshee screech blasts out from under the hood announcing to everyone that the main act has arrived. Be scared party guests, be very scared.
I peer out through the black tinted windows and a smug smile stretches my lips. People have streamed out of the house to see what the commotion is. They gasp and point as my car performs its routine of bounces and bumps and grinds. I'm nearly ready. The scene is primed and set for another spectacular entrance.
I slip in my thousand dollar fangs and admire myself in the window's slightly distorted reflection. The teeth look so real, worth every cent I paid. Mind you, no one will see them until the moment is just right. I shove open the car door and glide out onto the wide sandstone steps which lead up to the house. Every pair of eyes is on me. Do they think I'm a dead man walking? My paler than white makeup, blue lipstick and darker than black eyeshadow would fool even a qualified pathologist, well at a distance they might. Dressed in black from head to foot, I'm like an eerie shadow striding up the steps.
I feel the mood shift from awe to 'oooh' when my girls emerge from the car; my five beautiful, sexy vamps strut up the steps behind me. Their skimpy black leather outfits look as if they'd be more at home in a high class brothel rather than this posh person's party. The girls have only one job; tease the guests, men and women, and entice them into an intimate web of expectation. Later, when the tension is reaching bursting point, and I give the signal, my little darlings will scare the living bejesus out of everyone around them with coordinated cat-like 'attacks', hissing and spitting sounds, and crazed displays of their fangs.
Me and my entourage bundle our way through the entrance hall. I'm heading for the little stage which houses my turntables and the controls for the lights, and fog machine, and flash bang maker. As I push my way through the gaping guests, my girls peel off and start seducing their victims. By the time I've reached the stage, all my girls are already hard at work, flaunting their leather clad bodies in the faces of their unsuspecting prey.
"Okay people," I shout into the mike. "I'm DJ Marilyn Grotesque, let's get this parrrr-teeee started."
