It's not easy being a muse. Especially when the guy you're supposed to inspire doesn't want to hear from you. I have spent more time at the back of a closet than a sweater grandma knitted, and I'm way more attractive than any sweater. In fact, the guy has told me countless times I'm his hottest muse, he's all "I'd totally do you, Trish, if I were straight." But still, I'm shoved back into the closet with his mullet pictures and stonewashed jeans. Alas though, that is the life of a muse for a guy who only ever dabbled in your fandom. I got him to let me out of exclusive fandom work once, but that didn't work out too well. That's why I was so shocked when he called on me for this.
He said to me, "Trish, I need your help. My writing anniversary is coming up, and I have no idea what I can do to commemorate it!" Then he cried for a while, it was really pathetic. But I had to try my best to not laugh and be the supportive muse, when in reality I just wanted to say "Stop being such a bitch!" I couldn't say that, though, that would be my one way ticket to Nashville, where he sends the musi he doesn't want anymore. Sure, I could hang out with my old pals Jeff and Matt, and a plethora of Detroit Red Wings, but I'd rather be in the closet. I'm from Toronto, Nashville would be like Hell to me. But anyway, he asked for my help, so I sat down and tried to think up something for him. Yeah, he keeps me in a closet the majority of the time, but this was my ticket out. I only had to think of something good, something that would keep me out for a while...
I didn't come up with jack shit. I haven't worked in like a year, I was rusty! Besides that, it's not like he wanted ideas with ME, and I kinda specialize in those, you know. He wanted ideas with his original fiction, the stuff he started with. "It's my anniversary," He said. "I need to do something with my original stuff, my Original 3 fics, you know the ones." I didn't have the heart to tell the guy I never read them. I mean, why would I, they were before my time?! And besides that, we ALL know the guy didn't get good until he wrote Captive Heart, no one cares about his stuff before that. I know I didn't, but I also thought I was only required to care about anything after my debut in Anything Can Happen in the WWF. Apparently though, I was wrong.
So I went back and read his earlier stuff, or at least I meant to. But, after I read his first ever fic, On the Banks of the Beach, MY EYES WERE BLEEDING. It was so. unbelievably. horrible. I almost couldn't believe the same guy who wrote that wrote ME. Had I actually read that stuff before I agreed to be his muse, I probably would've screamed and ran away when he came calling. Hell, I wanted to do that anyway, but I was kinda stuck; he knows where I live, there's no getting away. I wanted to, though, oh how I wanted to. I didn't think for a second that I could actually come up with an idea for that stuff, other than telling him to delete it all, for the love of God. I couldn't do THAT though, either, the whole Nashville thing. No, I had to come up with an ACTUAL idea, or it was back to the closet for me. That sort of felt like blackmail to me, but I did it anyway. That's the muse life, it's a dirty rotten bitch. But that closet is dark, and Stephanie McMahon is always trying to touch me.
Anyway though, it took me a while, but I finally came up with an idea. I knew he wouldn't rewrite it, he can't stand to read it any more than I could, and I knew telling him to fix all the grammar mistakes would pretty much make it a brand new fic. So by process of elimination, I was left with one idea; the only possible thing to do to those fics (or THAT fic, I only read the one, bleeding eyes and all) was to tear it down for the cliched piece of shitty porn that it was. It had to be mocked, it CRIED OUT to be mocked. It was a risky idea to pitch, he could've been too sensitive to let his sucking be exposed to the world, but I went with it anyway. And in the end it paid off.
He loved the idea. So much so, he put ME in charge of the project as a thank you. "Trish," He said to me. "I'm putting you in charge of this project. I want you to assemble a team of musi, any 3 people from the closet you want, to work FOR you on this project. You just tell them what to do, and they will do the rest. Consider them your angels."
Angels. Trish's Angels. I had to admit, I liked the sound of that. Not that I wouldn't have agreed to it had it sounded stupid, this was the best opportunity he'd given me in a long time. Hell, it was the ONLY opportunity he'd given me in a long time. I had to take it, and I had to make the most of it, so maybe he'd let me out of the closet a little more often. Or at least install a nightlight, I think this was worth that much. Or at least I hoped it to be.
It may seem foolproof to you, but assembling a team of Angels is damn hard work. They had to be just right for the project, which was hard to find; how do you interview someone to mock a fic? I'm still not quite sure how, but after a long, exhaustive search, I have finally found my Angels. The perfect team of 3 men, raring and ready to do my bidding...
I mean, raring and ready to mock fic, why else would I have picked them? They're perfect for the project, trust me, my Angels will never let you down. So let's get on with the show, shall we? Someone cue the theme song. (that's a Real Player file). WMP version here.
