Long Hard Road Out Of Hell (Marilyn Manson) ON HOLD

The Golden Age Of Grotesque

Graham Norton. The interviewers name was Graham Norton. I new who he was, I used to watch him all time. I even remember watching the interview he did with Manson and Nigella Lawson, but in my panicked state his name had slipped my mind.

"It seems as though you settled in right away," He said, swirling in his black cup chair.

"No, actually, it took some time. I cried the first night."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I began to get a bit embarrassed telling people that I actually have human emotions.

"I remember it was around two in the morning. I'd just turned my phone off and I layed in my bed and stared up at the ceiling, and suddenly, out of nowhere, this painful, crushing feeling took over my body. I put a hand over my mouth so I didn't make any noise and put the other one either on my stomach or on my heart because both of them were hurting. I was like I had no control over my body, I thought I was going to puke or shit or both. It was ridiculous because tears were streaming down my face and my whole body was being wracked with these heartbreaking sobs. I'm pretty sure it was because Marilyn was the first person to foster me, I'd never been inside someone else's house before, let alone my idols.

"It was very overwhelming and I'd never been taught how to deal with situations like that, but, like I did everything else, I fought through it and eventually fell asleep after three hours of wallowing in my own fear. But after thinking about the current state of my life I concluded I threw a wobbily because I basically just wanted my mum. I was scared that I wouldn't like Marilyn as a parent, or not be able to get over the fact my favourite celebrity was now a part of my life or not be able to love him as a person rather than an artist. But I did it so woo."

I made an action with my arms that looked like I was pushing the air up with my hands and waited for a reaction but the whole studio was silent. Me being me, I snorted and started laughing, and it seemed to take the weight off everyone else's shoulders and they bagn to laugh too.

"Well, after that depressing story I think we need an uplifter am I right? We'll be right back after the break where we talk about Dixie's journey to fame."

***

I'd woken up at 10, which for me is incredibly early and normally I would stay in bed until like 2 or 3 or not get up at all because unless you have plans with friends, you did nothing at the care homes on weekends. However, because I was in a new house and I had no idea how Manson liked to run things around here, I showered and washed my hair (which I never do in the mornings) and had managed to be ready to go somewhere by 11:30. The whole time i was getting ready, the only thing I could think about was whether he heard me crying last night. I sincerely hope he didn't.

I was sat at my desk using my MacBook Pro for the first time and was having fun finding out what to do when Manson came into my room. He looked at me and then around the room and then back at me, losing very confused.

"Hey," he said uncertainly.

"Uh, hi," I replied, raising an eyebrow, not knowing why he was acting so weird.

He pointed at me and then pointed towards the door, his forehead getting more and more wrinkly as his frown deepened. "Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked finally after a long pause.

"No, I got suspended for that video. I start going back on Wednesday."

"Oh," he said, immediately lighting up, his posture opening and giving his eyebrows, or lack of them, a much needed break. "That makes sense. Pretty shit though. Oh well. Have you eaten?" I nodded. "Good."