Marilyn Manson Portrait Of An American Family

Prelude (The Family Trip)

"Good is the thing that you favor, evil is your sour flavor. I don't need your hate! I decide my fate! You cannot sedate! All the things you rape!" I scream into the Mic, and then smash the stand into the amp behind me. The crowd cheers.

"Yeah! Mr. Manson!" A girl shrieks from the crowd, I look in her direction as she gets lifted up by the crowd, she pulls up her shirt, revealing her huge tits. I wanted to fuck her but she disappears back into the crowd.

"Goodnight mother fuckers!" I scream into the Mic and drop it. I walk offstage, almost tripping over my feet. I wipe the blood dripping down my stomach and take a shard of glass out of my chest. I collapse on the small couch in the dressing room, as Twiggy runs in screaming, "Where's the soap?! Where's the soap?!" He probably took an Acid tab out of our secret compartment. Or Meth, I don't give a fuck.

"Manson," Stephen, walks in looking at me. I try to focus on him, but all the alcohol and blood loss doesn't help. He's the only one who's probably not fucked up right now.

"What?" I ask, a little irritated.

"I got a medic for your chest." He simply states, and walks away leaving the medic stitching up the self-inflicted wounds on my body, and Twiggy running around in circles like a complete psycho. I just sit there boredom consuming me. This is nothing new, getting stitches. We've been practically destroying, and/or desecrating each other for weeks now. They wanted us, so we'll give them us.

~•~

"Wake up fuckers! Another performance in 20 min!" I yell. Madonna wakes up instantly and glares at me.

"I was just falling back asleep, you ass wipe." He snaps and walks to the bathroom. Sara gets up groggily, he probably has a hangover. He runs to the bathroom and pounds on it. "Fucking stop man!" Madonna yells.

"I'm gonna puke!"

"There's a nice floor behind you." I say smirking a little. He glares at me for a split second before deciding he has no other option and pukes all over the floor. Daisy walks in the room, looking around somewhat amused. I jump back a little.

"When the fuck did you get up?!" He shrugs.

"Hour ago, couldn't sleep. I'm already ready though." He plops himself on a nearby chair. I look over at where Twiggy is still sleeping and sigh. I go to wake him up. I shake him, doesn't budge. I slap him, still nothing. Worried now, I ask Madonna, if he can help sense he got shoved out of the bathroom by Sara. He quickly comes over and shakes Twiggy. He then walks away.

"Really is that all your gonna do?! You fucker!" I yell, and continue to wake up the motionless Twiggy. Madonna comes back a few minuets later with a bucket of ice water. I step back and he dumps the bucket on him. He then jolts awake.

"W-what the fuck Pogo!" He yells. Pogo just chuckles and walks away with the bucket. Twiggy sits there shivering.

"Come on, you need to get ready, everyone else is waiting for you." I say. He rubs his face with one hand, sighs, and gets up and walks into the bathroom. He eventually comes out with his pink baby doll dress, with black tights and combat boots. A tall skinny guy with a mullet walks in.

"Marilyn Manson?" He looks a bit out of place, more confused.

"Yes?" He stares at me for a brief moment before answering.

"Oh.. yeah, your on in 30 seconds."

"Okay thanks." And with that he disappears. "Alright fuckers, you heard him. Get ready."

"5 seconds!" I hear ahead. We begin to walk on stage, I wait to make my entrance to the Nashville people. We traveled to Nashville last night. The rest of the band walks on stage and I stay in front of the drums in the darkness. The performance starts and they start playing, "Prelude (The Family Trip)." I stay in the dark and begin to sing. "There's no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going. There's no knowing where we're rowing, or which way the rivers flowing. Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a blowing?" I start to walk out on stage as they put the spotlights on me, I continue the song. The crowd cheers. "Not a spec of light is showing, so the danger must be growing. All the fires of Hell glowing. Is the grizzly reaper mowing? YES! The danger must be growing, for the rowers keep on rowing, and they're certainly not showing, any signs that they are slooowwing! Stop the boat." I back up and the band starts playing "Cake & Sodomy." I walk up to the giant die, slowly, and set my cane down. I grab the Mic. "I am the God of Fuck. I am the God of Fuck. Virgins sold in quantity, herded by heredity. Red neck burn out mid-west mind, who said date rape isn't kind? Porno nation, evaluation, what's this time for segregation? Libido, libido, fascination, too much oral defecation. White trash get down on your knees! Time for Cake and Sodomy! White trash get down on your knees! Time for Cake and Sodomy! Time for Cake and Sodomy!" While Daisy and Twiggy are doing there solos I take off my cloak and grab the Mic again. "I am the God of Fuck. I am the God of Fuck." I bang my head to the music. "VCRs and Vaseline! TV fucked by plastic queens. Cash in hand and dick on screen, who said God was ever clean? Bible belt round' Anglo waist, putting sinners in their place. Yeah right great if your so good, explain the shit stains on your face! White trash get down on your knees! Time for Cake and Sodomy! White trash get down on your knees! Time for Cake and Sodomy! Time for Came and Sodomy!" I head bang once more and take a drink of water.

~•~

I start the last song of the night, "Misery Machine." I come out wearing a strap on dildo still. I let the Priests voice come on before I walk to the Mic. "I'm willing to face reality, let me tell you there's over 3,000 groups operating in this country today. And the numbers growing. As Christians, we gotta take on the armor of Christ and go to battle against Satan." I walk on the stage and start thrashing my head furiously as they start playing. "Man in the front got a sinister grin, careen down highway 666, we wanna go, crush the slow, as the pitchfork bends the needles grow! My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement! We're gonna ride to the abbey of thelema, to the abbey of thelema. Blood is pavement! Yeah! Grill in the front is my sinister grin, bugs in my teeth make me sick, sick, sick. The objects may be larger than, they appear in the mirror. My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement. We're gonna ride to the abbey of thelema, to the abbey of thelema, blood is pavement! When you ride you're ridden, when you ride you're ridden." I walk around to the slow part of the song and grab the Mic again. "I am fueled by, filth and fury. Do what I will, I will hurry, there, there. YEEEAAAAHHH!!! Go...! My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement! My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement! Yeah! Fuck it! My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement. My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement, pavement, pavement! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yea! Yea! Ya! Ya!" I then let out a furious scream into the Mic. "Goodnight Nashville! You crazy mother fuckers!" I walk backstage with the rest of the band. Sara comes up to me with a bag of Coke. I smirk. We all sit in a circle and snort some off of The Holy Bible. Oh...the life of a rock star.

A/N I hope you liked it! This isn't my first Manson Fan fiction. But I felt like making another somewhat realistic version of a Manson "Fan fiction." So its technically a Non-Fiction Fan Fiction. So it'll have some true things and some false things. If that makes sense. Anyway, please, vote, comment, if you want. I appreciate any support. :) I'll try to update whenever I get the chance. Thanks, have a great day!

@ItsOkToSmile

or

~AngelWithTheScabbedWings~