Firis
Amateur Human
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Triptych: Omega and The Mechanical Animals.
This is my attempt to write a short story for all three albums of the Triptych (A trio of loose-concept albums by the band Marilyn Manson)
This one is of the "Mechanical Animals" album, the album doesn't explain much other than the main story points, and as such I had little to work with, and I didn't know what to do. So this isn't an amazing story, but I think it is enjoyable, the next story (Holy Wood Album) has a better explained story and is much more like a normal concept album and as such it will be better. (WARNING: Contains drug use.)
Omega shifted around the ****pit searching for a better place to relax and space out… The irony of it, stuck, lost in space and he wanted to “space” out. His ship had run out of fuel shortly after escaping the police, he was now running on “Impulse power” that is: He was moving on the mere momentum of his previous course and minuscule energy bubbles pulsing from his engine. He was a rocker, not a famous one though; he made just enough to get by before he got caught up in drugs and his own self-pity, the first problem being the reason of his current outlaw status. Omega got up from his seat and made his way towards the cryogenic chamber, he activated it and told it to wake him up “When someone finds me.” he took one last second to reflect on the life he had just given up for some petty pills. As Omega closed the lock on the chamber and pressed the “ON” button he felt dizzy, exhausted and cold, he fell asleep, soon after the ship blinked, attempting to alert him that a planet’s gravity was pulling him in, no use.
Omega woke to a crazed sound, screams, cries and discussions, he opened his eyes to see a blue sky with puffy clouds and strange birds, he turned his head to see two men carrying him away from a flaming wreckage saying something to the affect of “Get him to the studio before the Government finds out.” He passed out.
Again he woke, this time under a roof, his legs and arms bound in some primitive rope, a voice called to him. “Hello.” He looked around the dimly lit room but found no source for the voice, only boxes and gray walls.
“Can you understand me?” the voice asked.
Omega squinted his eyes and opened them again in an attempt to refocus. “Can you hear me? Can you understand me?” the voice asked again, audibly frustrated.
“Yes.” Omega replied
“Good.” The voice replied “Are you okay?”
“I think so, where am I? Who are you?”
“On Earth; our planet.”
Another voice chimed in, this one was stern and harsh sounding “We are producers, we publish entertainers for money. Who are you?”
“I am Omega, I come from the planet ‘Bulkar’”
“Why have you come here?”
“I was exiled from my planet, I ran out of fuel and crash landed here, I guess you found me, broke open my Cryo-pod and brought me here?”
“Yes we did, and not to be rude, but if you can’t do anything for us we will sell you too the Government; and they won’t take much good care of you.”
“Well that isn’t very hospitable! Shouldn’t you be more respectful to your first encounter with alien life?!”
“Actually we have had some before, not us personally, but others have and exploited them: Elvis Presley, Tom Cruise, David Bowie. Etcetera. Can you do anything profitable or not?”
“Well… I can play music.”
“Interesting.”
The lights shut off and he felt something whack him on the head, mere seconds later he passed out once again.
Omega has now been on Earth for four days, three of which he has been working to become accustomed to the primitive guitars and his new band members, they producers explained they would tell the world he was an alien and that would cause even more sales than what they had projected, and to keep the Government off him they are going to pay them half the gain, which they believe will still leave them with “Tens of millions of dollars in profit.”
He quickly mastered the guitar and learned about his fellow band members:
James Isaac – Lead guitar
Vasquez Gozales – Keyboardist
Helen Schmit – Drums
Charlie Dark – Bass
John Farson – Guitar
And of course: Omega – Vocals and guitar
They were practicing and getting acquainted, “This isn’t so bad actually.” He thought to himself “A new start, a new planet, possible fame and new opportunities.” He then heard a feminine, beautiful voice behind him that soothed his soul “Hello Mr. Omega. I am going to be your supervisor, my name is Coma White.” Coma white, that name will linger in his mind for eternity… “Nice to meet you Ms. White.” He smiled, she smiled back, almost eagerly, “I have another client I must attend too but here is your chart for this week, I will check on you later this week to see how you have performed.” She set down the paper and left, as she left he admired her, black hair, luscious red lips and finely dressed in a blue silk skirt and pink sweater. He picked up the paper and saw what he had to do, he summed it up for the band “We have to write two songs and have at least one of those songs ready to be played by the end of the week.” The rest of the band seemed excited but also worried, “Don’t worry, we can do it. Trust me.”
Later that week Omega took the songs to the producers,
“It’s pretty damn good!” said John, the first producer, dressed in black with a shaved head. “Good? Hell, it’s amazing!” said the rough voiced one, his name was James, his voice betrays him, he is quite a nice man.
“So you like it then?” Vasquez asked
“Like it? More like Love it!”
The whole band smiled.
“I knew you were going to be a hit, we’ll be rich!” John said
‘Omega and the Mechanical Animals’ Released their first album titled “Double bubble boiling Treble.” And went on tour, they made it big, the album went triple platinum in the first six months. Omega went on twenty-seven talk shows in three months. It was time for his first Yearly “Two month break.” He spent it by going back to Hollywood, back too Coma, he invited her to a nice dinner to catch up, she explained her months as “Boring” and “Lacking color” but that the “Color has returned to my life since you came back.” they confessed their love and began kissing in public, if you could call it that, they barely got a smooch between each cult of paparazzi that wished to get pictures and generally annoy them. Later they ditched the restaurant and laid upon the top of a flowered hill, he pulled out a pocket knife and carved into the great Oak: “Omega and Coma, together as one against all others. ♥” they stared into the night sky and picked out constellations, he pointed to a northern area of the sky “That’s where I come from, a purple and red planet, around the same temperature and population as this one.”
“Do other planets know about us? What do they think?”
“I can tell you what they say in space: This Earth is too gray for them, they feel it is too unconnected to nature, too apathetic.”
“That’s harsh.”
He smiled at her, “Obviously they haven’t seen you, or else they would believe this planet to be the most beautiful.”
Omega went on tour again for their second album: “Tales of the Stars.”
He suffered ‘withdrawal’ symptoms from not being with Coma, with the hole that was left with her absence he filled with pills and needles. Doping himself into a euphoric bliss, he got high on stage even to pass the time, he drew In quite a crowd, so many fans, so many pills, so much stress and pressure. He was beginning to hate it, he wanted to be back with Coma, forever. After the tour ended he came back too her, and spent much time with her, after a week of nearly non-stop dancing and snuggling he offered her a ring, she accepted with great love and happiness, but she was also worried about his drug use, something she would have to now put off discussing as to not ruin the moment.
He shot up and popped pills at home occasionally too, a heavy addiction weighed him down. He had been spiraling down now, becoming misanthropic, nihilistic and dependent on heroin for pleasure. “****!” he yelled as the needle penetrated his flesh, Coma came in, “What’s wron-“ she gasped and began crying “What the hell are you doing!?” she exclaimed, he was stunned, he went emberassed, sad, heartbroken and guilty. “I can explain!”
“No! You can’t!”
“Yes I can, it’s stressful livin-“
“I’ll tell you what is stressful!” she began crying harder, hurting inside
“I have been annoyed by the paparazzi, you are away ten months of the year, you seem to be fading away from the world and now you are doing drugs IN MY HOUSE?!”
“Baby!”
“Don’t baby me! You have been so Nihilistic with your attitude, I can’t take it anymore. I am leaving.”
“No, wait please!” It was too late, she had walked out, he stared at the door for several seconds in disbelief, then he broke down and let the tears drip from his eyes like a leaky pipe. He broke down, sobbing. For days he called her cell phone, hoping for an answer, but no call was returned. His music was fading in his soul, and worse: The public was rallying against him, wielding signs saying things like “Alien go home!” and “Stop corrupting our youth.” He didn’t understand the hatred, nor did he want to. He wrote a note: “This world is too gray, it’s been killing me and I will use my flaw to make me free.”
The next day his band found him in his apartment, in his bed with an empty bottle of whiskey and an empty bottle of pills. He had no pulse, and for one day everyone, even those that hated him fell silent…
This is my attempt to write a short story for all three albums of the Triptych (A trio of loose-concept albums by the band Marilyn Manson)
This one is of the "Mechanical Animals" album, the album doesn't explain much other than the main story points, and as such I had little to work with, and I didn't know what to do. So this isn't an amazing story, but I think it is enjoyable, the next story (Holy Wood Album) has a better explained story and is much more like a normal concept album and as such it will be better. (WARNING: Contains drug use.)
Omega shifted around the ****pit searching for a better place to relax and space out… The irony of it, stuck, lost in space and he wanted to “space” out. His ship had run out of fuel shortly after escaping the police, he was now running on “Impulse power” that is: He was moving on the mere momentum of his previous course and minuscule energy bubbles pulsing from his engine. He was a rocker, not a famous one though; he made just enough to get by before he got caught up in drugs and his own self-pity, the first problem being the reason of his current outlaw status. Omega got up from his seat and made his way towards the cryogenic chamber, he activated it and told it to wake him up “When someone finds me.” he took one last second to reflect on the life he had just given up for some petty pills. As Omega closed the lock on the chamber and pressed the “ON” button he felt dizzy, exhausted and cold, he fell asleep, soon after the ship blinked, attempting to alert him that a planet’s gravity was pulling him in, no use.
Omega woke to a crazed sound, screams, cries and discussions, he opened his eyes to see a blue sky with puffy clouds and strange birds, he turned his head to see two men carrying him away from a flaming wreckage saying something to the affect of “Get him to the studio before the Government finds out.” He passed out.
Again he woke, this time under a roof, his legs and arms bound in some primitive rope, a voice called to him. “Hello.” He looked around the dimly lit room but found no source for the voice, only boxes and gray walls.
“Can you understand me?” the voice asked.
Omega squinted his eyes and opened them again in an attempt to refocus. “Can you hear me? Can you understand me?” the voice asked again, audibly frustrated.
“Yes.” Omega replied
“Good.” The voice replied “Are you okay?”
“I think so, where am I? Who are you?”
“On Earth; our planet.”
Another voice chimed in, this one was stern and harsh sounding “We are producers, we publish entertainers for money. Who are you?”
“I am Omega, I come from the planet ‘Bulkar’”
“Why have you come here?”
“I was exiled from my planet, I ran out of fuel and crash landed here, I guess you found me, broke open my Cryo-pod and brought me here?”
“Yes we did, and not to be rude, but if you can’t do anything for us we will sell you too the Government; and they won’t take much good care of you.”
“Well that isn’t very hospitable! Shouldn’t you be more respectful to your first encounter with alien life?!”
“Actually we have had some before, not us personally, but others have and exploited them: Elvis Presley, Tom Cruise, David Bowie. Etcetera. Can you do anything profitable or not?”
“Well… I can play music.”
“Interesting.”
The lights shut off and he felt something whack him on the head, mere seconds later he passed out once again.
Omega has now been on Earth for four days, three of which he has been working to become accustomed to the primitive guitars and his new band members, they producers explained they would tell the world he was an alien and that would cause even more sales than what they had projected, and to keep the Government off him they are going to pay them half the gain, which they believe will still leave them with “Tens of millions of dollars in profit.”
He quickly mastered the guitar and learned about his fellow band members:
James Isaac – Lead guitar
Vasquez Gozales – Keyboardist
Helen Schmit – Drums
Charlie Dark – Bass
John Farson – Guitar
And of course: Omega – Vocals and guitar
They were practicing and getting acquainted, “This isn’t so bad actually.” He thought to himself “A new start, a new planet, possible fame and new opportunities.” He then heard a feminine, beautiful voice behind him that soothed his soul “Hello Mr. Omega. I am going to be your supervisor, my name is Coma White.” Coma white, that name will linger in his mind for eternity… “Nice to meet you Ms. White.” He smiled, she smiled back, almost eagerly, “I have another client I must attend too but here is your chart for this week, I will check on you later this week to see how you have performed.” She set down the paper and left, as she left he admired her, black hair, luscious red lips and finely dressed in a blue silk skirt and pink sweater. He picked up the paper and saw what he had to do, he summed it up for the band “We have to write two songs and have at least one of those songs ready to be played by the end of the week.” The rest of the band seemed excited but also worried, “Don’t worry, we can do it. Trust me.”
Later that week Omega took the songs to the producers,
“It’s pretty damn good!” said John, the first producer, dressed in black with a shaved head. “Good? Hell, it’s amazing!” said the rough voiced one, his name was James, his voice betrays him, he is quite a nice man.
“So you like it then?” Vasquez asked
“Like it? More like Love it!”
The whole band smiled.
“I knew you were going to be a hit, we’ll be rich!” John said
‘Omega and the Mechanical Animals’ Released their first album titled “Double bubble boiling Treble.” And went on tour, they made it big, the album went triple platinum in the first six months. Omega went on twenty-seven talk shows in three months. It was time for his first Yearly “Two month break.” He spent it by going back to Hollywood, back too Coma, he invited her to a nice dinner to catch up, she explained her months as “Boring” and “Lacking color” but that the “Color has returned to my life since you came back.” they confessed their love and began kissing in public, if you could call it that, they barely got a smooch between each cult of paparazzi that wished to get pictures and generally annoy them. Later they ditched the restaurant and laid upon the top of a flowered hill, he pulled out a pocket knife and carved into the great Oak: “Omega and Coma, together as one against all others. ♥” they stared into the night sky and picked out constellations, he pointed to a northern area of the sky “That’s where I come from, a purple and red planet, around the same temperature and population as this one.”
“Do other planets know about us? What do they think?”
“I can tell you what they say in space: This Earth is too gray for them, they feel it is too unconnected to nature, too apathetic.”
“That’s harsh.”
He smiled at her, “Obviously they haven’t seen you, or else they would believe this planet to be the most beautiful.”
Omega went on tour again for their second album: “Tales of the Stars.”
He suffered ‘withdrawal’ symptoms from not being with Coma, with the hole that was left with her absence he filled with pills and needles. Doping himself into a euphoric bliss, he got high on stage even to pass the time, he drew In quite a crowd, so many fans, so many pills, so much stress and pressure. He was beginning to hate it, he wanted to be back with Coma, forever. After the tour ended he came back too her, and spent much time with her, after a week of nearly non-stop dancing and snuggling he offered her a ring, she accepted with great love and happiness, but she was also worried about his drug use, something she would have to now put off discussing as to not ruin the moment.
He shot up and popped pills at home occasionally too, a heavy addiction weighed him down. He had been spiraling down now, becoming misanthropic, nihilistic and dependent on heroin for pleasure. “****!” he yelled as the needle penetrated his flesh, Coma came in, “What’s wron-“ she gasped and began crying “What the hell are you doing!?” she exclaimed, he was stunned, he went emberassed, sad, heartbroken and guilty. “I can explain!”
“No! You can’t!”
“Yes I can, it’s stressful livin-“
“I’ll tell you what is stressful!” she began crying harder, hurting inside
“I have been annoyed by the paparazzi, you are away ten months of the year, you seem to be fading away from the world and now you are doing drugs IN MY HOUSE?!”
“Baby!”
“Don’t baby me! You have been so Nihilistic with your attitude, I can’t take it anymore. I am leaving.”
“No, wait please!” It was too late, she had walked out, he stared at the door for several seconds in disbelief, then he broke down and let the tears drip from his eyes like a leaky pipe. He broke down, sobbing. For days he called her cell phone, hoping for an answer, but no call was returned. His music was fading in his soul, and worse: The public was rallying against him, wielding signs saying things like “Alien go home!” and “Stop corrupting our youth.” He didn’t understand the hatred, nor did he want to. He wrote a note: “This world is too gray, it’s been killing me and I will use my flaw to make me free.”
The next day his band found him in his apartment, in his bed with an empty bottle of whiskey and an empty bottle of pills. He had no pulse, and for one day everyone, even those that hated him fell silent…