One does not go to an Arctic Monkeys show to be surprised by innovation, the average person goes to hear a well-oiled indie-rock machine regurgitate tired clichés to reinforce their own deluded belief that they are somehow being transgressive by consuming something slightly removed from the top-forty dross. It was no surprise that the band chose to perform here in the middle of bumfuck Washington to a crowd of easily amused simpletons. Kelsey sardonically smiled knowing he would soon be in attendance mingling amongst the same group he was internally railing against. He just needed to be adored.
His thin arms tightened around the waist of his driver as the Harley Davidson motorcycle sped down the poorly maintained asphalt. Mammoth the driver wasn’t what the beauty obsessed Kelsey considered his type, but the Meatloaf lookalike did have his perks… a rent-free place to stay and transportation being amongst them; also, the whole beauty and the beast dynamic was interesting to exploit at times. Kelsey knew that the oafish brute was more smitten by him than he let on as the fool stuck around despite his lowly status amongst Kelsey’s rotating cast of other lovers. In a strange way Mammoth’s misplaced determination was sort of endearing. Kelsey was genuinely startled as the motorbike came to an abrupt stop in front of the club and let out an uncharacteristic yelp in surprise. Mammoth failed to contain a hearty bout of laughter and received a few slaps to the back for his troubles. It was a rare sight to see Kelsey caught off guard in public or for that matter even in private; the biker presumed that the androgynous beauty’s life was nothing more than a carefully constructed act--that everything he said or did held a grand purpose and would set off a chain reaction Kelsey had already planned in his mind. Kelsey would have thrown a helmet at the uncultured ogre had he been wearing one, but the fear of helmet hair outweighed any safety concerns. He departed the bike and stormed into the club without sparing a second glance at his ride. Mammoth knew better to do or say anything deemed confrontational less he catch an earful; he already had well-intentioned hassling from his fellow Appleford Jagged Marauders to look forward to for putting up with this attractive, but ungrateful freeloader and really did not need any more lip tonight.
Despite his dispassion toward the current performers Kelsey still was grateful for the small amount of outside culture that sporadically graced this one-horse town as he could not possibly change the culture of this puritan hamlet all by himself. If only these mouth breathers were more adventurous. Despite Appleford’s daily assault on his intelligence and independence Kelsey still knew how to make an entrance. A shade darker than his flowing pink hair his sparkling jumpsuit seemed to hug his body in all the right places whilst being perfectly complimented by gilded platform boots. Kelsey seemed to embrace the gaudy excess of his outfit and took the occasional dirty looks in stride; his narcissism seemed to know no bounds. In a moment of hubris Kelsey neglect to remember that he owed this particular club a considerable bar tab and only as he approached the bouncer did he realize that perhaps he should have dressed a little more inconspicuously. Luckily the bouncer seemed preoccupied accosting some teenager with a hilariously bad fake id that Kelsey managed to slip by unnoticed. It was tempting to find his regular group of adoring sycophants to hang out with, but that increased his chances of being thrown out by a hundred percent. Snatching an unattended fruity alcoholic drink from a seemingly deserted table the twenty-two-year-old scanned the room for somewhere to enjoy the show without being thrown out or for some three sheets to the wind sucker to pin his ludicrously large tab on. There is seemed to be a growing congregation of impressionable looking plebeians a few tables down, but shoot he thought he perhaps recognized some of them from his high school years…the drab days before glamour…long ago before Kelsey Matthews there was…ugh...forget it.
Kelsey shook those utterly depressing thoughts from the forefront of his mind and locked them safely away in his subconscious. Before Kelsey Matthews there was no one. None of these yokels ever connected him to that non-entity he once was and they never would. To the rabble he was always the star Kelsey Matthews and their pitiful existences were indefinitely better because of his brightness. Taking a sip of his stolen beverage Kelsey graceful slunk away from the table before the original occupants could return and made his way closer to the group eavesdropping all the way.“Oh, so this is the famous Music Man from advertisements. Where’s your 76 trombones? Tsk. Tsk. Forgive me as here I was thinking I was the only practitioner of the finer arts here in Crappleford darlings. Shame on me. Though I honestly thought you’d be taller. No offense obviously. I’m only 5’9 myself. A good pair of boots or heels do wonders for your vertical impairment.”