Urban Legends: A Two-Part Solution to a Simple Problem
Title: A Two-Part Solution to a Simple Problem
Author: phylosophie
Theme: Urban Legends
Band/Pairing: Miyavi
Rating: R (horror, character death)
Length: 700 words
Disclaimer: Go on kids, try this one at home. }=>~
Notes: Laugh at it or hate me, just as long as you enjoy reading...
“That's a bad idea, man. Seriously. Don't you know you can die from doing that?”
“Aw, come on! It's just candy and soda, it's not like mixing them makes nitroglycerin. How is it supposed to kill someone?” said Miyavi, eying up the supplies.
“Apparently it causes a build-up of carbon dioxide. If it doesn't make your stomach explode, it leeches into your blood and you die of carbon dioxide poisoning, it's a slow, painful death.”
“You're full of bullshit, you know that?” said the quirky singer, emptying packets of Pop Rocks into a cup.
“Meev, don't do it.”
“Watch me.”
Miyavi poured the cup containing several packs worth of Pop Rocks into his mouth, cheeks bulging as he tried not to spit out any of the madly popping candies. Then he popped the tab on a can of Coke and drank it as fast as possible, washing the mass of candy down his throat. With a satisfied smirk, he set the can down.
“See? I'm fi...” Miyavi's eyes bulged as he dropped to the floor, convulsing.
“Quick, someone call an ambulance! Oh god, Meev, hang in there... Don't die...”
Miyavi was still convulsing... with laughter. “Fooled ya, you idiots!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took a while for the rest of the band to get into the show that night since everyone was severely pissed-off over Miyavi's little stunt earlier in the day. However, no musician can resist the vibe of a hot crowd for long, and everyone hit their stride eventually: playing fast and furious, jamming off each other's riffs, interacting with the fans, and being their usual crazy selves. At the end of the night they were exhausted but exuberant, thrilled with another fantastic live to their credit.
Afterwards, they returned to their hotel and split up into their separate rooms. As Miyavi stood in the shower, it hit him just how tired he was and that he had a pretty strong headache and hadn't quite recovered his hearing, but he put that down to the usual post-show state. He stumbled getting out of the shower as a wave of dizziness hit, feeling some stomach cramps, and considered that candy and soda probably weren't the best choice of lunch before a concert. Making his way to the seating area, he picked up the phone and called room service and was told that it would take some time for his order due to the late hour. He said it would be fine and hung up, intending to watch some television until the food arrived.
Flopping onto the couch, he waded around through the television channels but saw nothing that grabbed his attention. He finally gave up and left it on some nature program about diving near coral reefs. Rubbing at his temples, he wondered how long it would take before dinner arrived, hoping the food would stop the nausea and maybe alleviate the headache. “Some year I'll learn not to eat junk food before a show,” he said out loud and laughed as he realized he was talking to himself.
The laughter quickly turned to coughing as Miyavi fought for air, each breath seeming to race away from him. His pulse raced, each beat of his heat thudding against his ribs like the rapid impacts of bullets. Red and violet spots danced in front of his eyes before turning into fish and swimming away. Just above the wild roar in his ears, he could hear the announcer on the television say, “... and an improper mix of air in the diver's tanks could result in too much carbon dioxide entering the diver's blood stream. That can result in shortness of breath, dizziness, increased heart rate, nausea, hallucinations and possibly even death...”
'Great,' thought Miyavi, clutching at his throat as the clanging blackness of death wrapped icy fingers around his heart, 'when will I ever learn to listen to any...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Uuuuuuwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he yelled, sitting bolt upright and dripping with cold sweat.
Miyavi looked around and shuddered with relief to find that it had been nothing more than a nightmare.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So anyone want to try it?”
He looked at the proffered candy and soda.
“Don't you know that can kill you?” said Miyavi.
Author: phylosophie
Theme: Urban Legends
Band/Pairing: Miyavi
Rating: R (horror, character death)
Length: 700 words
Disclaimer: Go on kids, try this one at home. }=>~
Notes: Laugh at it or hate me, just as long as you enjoy reading...
“That's a bad idea, man. Seriously. Don't you know you can die from doing that?”
“Aw, come on! It's just candy and soda, it's not like mixing them makes nitroglycerin. How is it supposed to kill someone?” said Miyavi, eying up the supplies.
“Apparently it causes a build-up of carbon dioxide. If it doesn't make your stomach explode, it leeches into your blood and you die of carbon dioxide poisoning, it's a slow, painful death.”
“You're full of bullshit, you know that?” said the quirky singer, emptying packets of Pop Rocks into a cup.
“Meev, don't do it.”
“Watch me.”
Miyavi poured the cup containing several packs worth of Pop Rocks into his mouth, cheeks bulging as he tried not to spit out any of the madly popping candies. Then he popped the tab on a can of Coke and drank it as fast as possible, washing the mass of candy down his throat. With a satisfied smirk, he set the can down.
“See? I'm fi...” Miyavi's eyes bulged as he dropped to the floor, convulsing.
“Quick, someone call an ambulance! Oh god, Meev, hang in there... Don't die...”
Miyavi was still convulsing... with laughter. “Fooled ya, you idiots!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took a while for the rest of the band to get into the show that night since everyone was severely pissed-off over Miyavi's little stunt earlier in the day. However, no musician can resist the vibe of a hot crowd for long, and everyone hit their stride eventually: playing fast and furious, jamming off each other's riffs, interacting with the fans, and being their usual crazy selves. At the end of the night they were exhausted but exuberant, thrilled with another fantastic live to their credit.
Afterwards, they returned to their hotel and split up into their separate rooms. As Miyavi stood in the shower, it hit him just how tired he was and that he had a pretty strong headache and hadn't quite recovered his hearing, but he put that down to the usual post-show state. He stumbled getting out of the shower as a wave of dizziness hit, feeling some stomach cramps, and considered that candy and soda probably weren't the best choice of lunch before a concert. Making his way to the seating area, he picked up the phone and called room service and was told that it would take some time for his order due to the late hour. He said it would be fine and hung up, intending to watch some television until the food arrived.
Flopping onto the couch, he waded around through the television channels but saw nothing that grabbed his attention. He finally gave up and left it on some nature program about diving near coral reefs. Rubbing at his temples, he wondered how long it would take before dinner arrived, hoping the food would stop the nausea and maybe alleviate the headache. “Some year I'll learn not to eat junk food before a show,” he said out loud and laughed as he realized he was talking to himself.
The laughter quickly turned to coughing as Miyavi fought for air, each breath seeming to race away from him. His pulse raced, each beat of his heat thudding against his ribs like the rapid impacts of bullets. Red and violet spots danced in front of his eyes before turning into fish and swimming away. Just above the wild roar in his ears, he could hear the announcer on the television say, “... and an improper mix of air in the diver's tanks could result in too much carbon dioxide entering the diver's blood stream. That can result in shortness of breath, dizziness, increased heart rate, nausea, hallucinations and possibly even death...”
'Great,' thought Miyavi, clutching at his throat as the clanging blackness of death wrapped icy fingers around his heart, 'when will I ever learn to listen to any...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Uuuuuuwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he yelled, sitting bolt upright and dripping with cold sweat.
Miyavi looked around and shuddered with relief to find that it had been nothing more than a nightmare.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So anyone want to try it?”
He looked at the proffered candy and soda.
“Don't you know that can kill you?” said Miyavi.