Chapter 7

Blaze and Louis stood backstage watching the opener finish up. It was a sad girl with an acoustic guitar; her most popular song was titled “Winter Sadness Tears”. She was pretty awful, but Blaze and Louis didn’t mind, she drew a crowd. The girl thanked the audience, and came backstage.

“Great set,” Blaze said, “It was very sad.”

“Thanks,” said the girl. Then she began to cry. Louis raised his eyebrows at Blaze. Blaze shrugged.

“All a part of the lesbian lifestyle.”

“Are you guys really feeling that much all the time?”

“Yeah man. It’s exhausting. That’s why lesbians sleep for fourteen hours out of the day”

“You guys are like cats,” Louis said.

“For so many reasons.” Blaze said as she picked up her guitar, “Should I go on now?”

Louis looked around the green room. “Yes, you got everything?”

“I do.”

“Alright, remember to say your name as much as you can. Be Blaze.”

Jodie Foster uncovered her ears once the girl with the acoustic guitar stepped off stage.

“Goddamn, I cannot handle that level of sad.” She turned to a young lady standing next to her, “Was that too sad for you?”

“You thought that was sad?” the girl asked, “I mean, it wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t, like, sad.”

“Are you kidding me? One of the lyrics was ‘this despair will never leave me, unlike my dad.'”

“I’ve heard worse,” the girl shrugged.

“Geez, this generation of lesbians must have some intense emotions.”

“We’re fine as long as we get our fourteen hours.”

Jodie nodded. She examined the audience; it was what she expected for the most part. Lesbians as far as the eye could see, all looking hip, and all looking young. There was one man in the crowd though, he was about six foot seven and making eye contact while smiling at all the girls. Clearly had no idea where he was. The crowd suddenly went quiet. Jodie turned and saw that Blaze had stepped on the stage. Quickly, Jodie reached into her bag and grabbed a pair of swimmer’s ear plugs; she couldn’t risk hearing the music.

Illustration by Rory Midhani

“Hey. My name is Blaze. Like, it’s my real name. Not a stage name.”

The crowd murmured about how cool her name was. Blaze continued.

“I’m gonna play some songs off my EP called Cool Kids Only.”

Blaze nodded, and Louis started the backbeats. It didn’t take long for Blaze’s power to begin working. Jodie looked around and watched all the lesbians. It was just as she feared — they were all standing with their eyes wide and their mouths open. Jodie felt a tap on her shoulder, she turned and saw the token man motioning for her to take out her ear plug. Jodie took it out enough so she could hear what the man was saying.

“Why is everyone panting?” he asked. Jodie shrugged and made a ‘fuck if I know’ face. The man nodded.

“My name is Tim. Do you want to get a drink later?” the man said. Jodie shook her head no and made a ‘fuck if I know why you’d ask that’ face. Tim kept nodding.

“Okay cool,” he said. Jodie stuffed the ear plug back into her ear and continued to examine the crowd. The girls all around her were mesmerized. She counted at least six of them visibly drooling. From her purse Jodie drew a mirror. She turned her back to the stage and watched Blaze in the reflection. Jodie knew she didn’t have long to look unless she wanted to join the drooling mass. She was relieved to see that Blaze’s hair was the same as when she first saw her. Jodie scanned Blaze for a potential uncool trait but could see none. If only there were something she could point out to the audience to cool them off; like Pooh Bear phone charms or ugly earrings. But there was nothing.
Jodie covered her face with her hands and began to weep. She needed to kill Blaze tonight. As she stood sobbing, Tim hovered over her watching in extreme confusion.

“What the fuck is going on.”

By the time Blaze finished her set, the entire audience was crying, except for Tim. Blaze stood, looking at the crowd, smiling. She believed that what Louis told her was true, but now she was really seeing it. Blazed leaned into the microphone.

“Alright, that’s it. Thanks so much for coming out. I’m Blaze. Like a Fire. Blaze.” Blazed waved, and walked backstage. Immediately desperate screams rose up behind her. The audience was pleading for an encore. Lighters shot up everywhere; one girl even pulled off her flannel shirt, wrapped it around her fist and lit it on fire, thusly turning her arm into a torch. Jodie, breathing heavily, reached into her bag, ready for the second Blaze stepped back out on stage. Next to her Tim stood with his brow furrowed. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“I DON’T GET IT. SHE WASN’T EVEN THAT GOOD,” he shouted over the commotion. Suddenly, every girl in the audience whipped around to look at him. It was the first time any girl had looked at him all night, but unfortunately that look was the intense glare of 150 lusty lesbians.

“What did you say?” asked the girl whose arm-torch has slowed to a smolder.

“She wasn’t that good…” Tim said with absolutely no confidence.

The girls began to scream. They grabbed Tim’s arms and legs and dragged him outside. He tried to fight it, but they were full of womanly rage and could not be stopped. Jodie watched in horror as all 150 girls followed Tim out the door screaming and cussing. Jodie grasped the gun in her purse, standing in the middle of the empty venue.

“Okay,” she said. She turned towards the stage but suddenly bumped into someone.

“Not so fast, Perseus.”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Jodie said as she pushed herself away from Louis.

“I told you Jodie, she cannot be stopped,” Louis said as he grabbed her arm. Outside, the shouts got louder. Louis and Jodie both paused, to listen. They heard someone shout ‘BITE THE CURB.’

“Holy God almighty, are they murdering that guy?”

“Case and point, Jodie. One decent concert, and these lesbians are ready to kill for her. Now, it’s time for you to go.”

Louis reached into Jodie’s purse pushing her hand away from the gun and grasped the pistol’s grip. At the same time, Jodie grabbed her Oscar. Both drew their weapons from the bag at the same time, but before Louis could cock the gun, Jodie whooped him in the head with the Oscar. Louis dropped the gun and fell to the ground. Jodie turned and ran out of the Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage, and shouted behind her, “I’D LIKE TO THANK THE ACADEMY!”

Louis walked into Babe Town Cafe rubbing the throbbing goose egg on his forehead; he had just been released from the hospital for a mild concussion. He had spent the night in the emergency room, which was pretty awful. But Louis was counting his blessings, especially since his hospital roommate was Tim, who had just had his legs surgically reattached, among other procedures, when he was wheeled in. Louis walked up to the counter and ordered a small coffee. Louis grabbed a newspaper, collected his coffee, sat down at a table behind two girls and feigned being interested in the paper. He clandestinely turned his ear towards the girls.

“I’ve just never heard music that good before. And her? She was so intense.”

“I know. She was so amazing I forgot everything I used to know about music. I can’t even remember the name of my favorite band. Because now she is my favorite band.”

“Yeah what was it? Like, Crystal Candles or something.”

“Mine was just two letters. But what letters? The FF? The PP? That’s gross. If it was the PP. Ew other bands are just gross.”

“Did you hear about Courtney?”

“Which Courtney?”

“Courtney, the music editor of the school newspaper? She fell into a coma.”

“What? How!”

“Trying to think of adjectives to describe the concert. All the adjectives in the English language were so inadequate that she lost consciousness.”

“Dang.”

Just then, four pretty Smith girls in, of course, great coats entered the cafe. The girls at the table called over to them.

“Hey! Guys over here!” The four girls walked over and they all greeted each other. Louis continued to listen. One of the seated girls began to speak.

“Hey, so did you go to the show last night?” The girls standing in coats all nodded solemnly. The other seated girl piped up, “What’d you think? You know, being in a band an all?”

The tallest of the standing girls spoke, clearly impassioned. “We’re quitting music. It’s our duty to the world now to help Blaze get to the top.”

“That’s right,” said another standing girl, “from now on we will never make music again. WE are dedicating our lives to her. We will never leave her side until we have died. And we will have died by serving her.”

“That’s right. We will do anything to sleep with her- excuse me, I mean promote her music.”

The girls all looked at each other. They could all sense in one another a giant oscillating crush on Blaze that was throwing off their internal balance. The least standing girl, who had not spoken, addressed the group.

“Do you guys want to go put on all black outfits and smoke on the quad?”

She was met with very enthusiastic yeses. All six girls collected their things and left, murmuring to each other how incredible Blaze was. Louis sat up. Everything was going according to plan. He stood up and left the cafe. As he ambled through the beautiful scenery back to the hotel, he pulled out his phone. From his contacts he tapped ‘Devil-Work’. He raised the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

“Lucifer!” chirped an excited voice on the other end.

“Hey Boss, how’re things?”

“Ah everything is fine here. Kinda swamped at admissions since the pope changed all those rules. How about you? How’s our little prodigy?”

“Bobby, she’s awesome. Even more powerful than I thought. The audience curb stomped a guy for her.”

“Fantastic. So what’s going on, why you calling?”

“Oh ha, um, I’m calling because I forgot um, what’s next.”

“Uck, Louis, really? You don’t remember?”

“No! You never gave me a copy of the prophecy.”

“Yeah, because it’s in the Apocrypha folder on the cloud.”

“God, Bobby, I hate this new system.”

“Well too bad you little squirter. Learn it. I gotta go.”

“Don’t call me a squirter!” Louis shouted into the phone, but Bobby had already hung up.

Louis opened the door to the hotel room. Blaze was awake and flipping through channels on the TV.

“Blaze I need your help with something. Are you good with phones?” Louis asked.

“Of course I’m good with phones. I was born in 1992.”

“What?”

“Everybody knows, anyone born after 1986 has a solid grasp of technology. Anyone older than that types with their pointer fingers.”

“Alright…well I need help finding a document on a cloud.”

“Okay, sure.” Blaze beckoned for his phone and Louis handed it over. She typed a few things in then asked “What’s your email address?”

“Lucifer at Hell dot org”

Blaze’s head shot up, a look of horror on her face. “Oh my Jesus holding a baby lamb, are you the devil?”

Louis looked annoyed, as if he got this question a lot. “No. No, I’m not the devil.”

“But your name is Lucifer! That’s the Devil’s name!”

“No. The Devil’s name is Robert but he goes by Bobby. I’m Lucifer. The guys who wrote the bible got it all confused. They got all our last names mixed up. I’m Lucifer Stetson, then there’s Kevin Satan, Richard Beelzebub, and Bobby D. The D is for Devil. We’re all actually different people.”

“Whoa. And the dot org — Hell is an organization?”

“Yeah, it’s a non-profit.”

“Wow. Well anyway, here’s the drive, you should be able to access what you’re looking for now.”

Louis took the phone and began searching for the folder. Blaze sat on the bed watching him with the curiosity and trust of a child.

“So what’s next?” she asked excitedly.

“Hmmm,” Louis hummed, “Something about Gemini. Hm. Are there any notable twin lesbians?”

“Oh my Jesus dropping a baby lamb. This is gonna be intense.”

F. Sanger is a comedienne in NY. She now has more in common with E.L. James than she is willing to admit.

Check back next week for Intense Lesbian Fanfiction: Part Three! It’ll be INTENSE.

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