GOSH DARN!, that 70s' show

Jimmy Page vs. Jimi Hendrix

It was the seventies, aerobics were happening and spandex were all the rage. When Sylvia slipped on her leotard she felt like she had lived her whole life as a poser until she started moving, then she just forgot about everything. It was an escape. She just hoped the guys would never catch her or she'd never hear the end of their onslaught. It was just another secret of hers to cling on to.

There wasn't much exercise options in point place. She could rollerblade and skateboard but for a girl who couldn't even ride a bike, she'd rather take her chances getting ragged on for her hobby. Sylvie would stick with being able to ride cars and boys — that was enough for her.

Richard Simmons rocked her world.

Sylvia popped in a VHS and hit play. In techno colour Simmons began to jut his hips to the count of music and Sylvie was compelled to follow along. She hadn't realised Kelso had walked in, mere minutes after pressing play, to show her the latest Zeppelin album on vinyl he had just bought from grooves - the local record store.

He saw her and stood stunned, forgetting all about the sweet sound of music he held in his hands, almost breaking the vinyl from his now clenched grip. She was sweating, a lot, he was oddly hypnotised. He had never looked at her in any other way than as a friend, his best-friend, which was strange since every other girl was sex on legs for him, but as she thrusted and grunted to that god awful pop music he couldn't help but take her all in. The leotard left little to the imagination. He would have never of guessed he'd be a fan of aerobics, it may just be his new favourite thing.

Michael had to leave. Now.

Before she finished, he rushed out of there. He could finally breathe once he climbed into his van and sped out of her drive. He swore to himself to forget all about what he saw, even if it meant scrubbing his eyes with bleach.

(It didn't stop him from hoping into the shower when he got home and staying in there for an hour, only thinking of the sweat that dripped down from her neck and into her pushed up cleavage.)

✿ ✿ ✿

"Mick, have you seen the latest news of Jimmy Page? It was all over Creem."

"Come on Sylvie, like Kelso ever reads." Hype piped in as he plonked down on the arm rest, allowing her to sit in his chair, putting an arm around her and flicking over the page of their favourite piece of 'literature' that she was reading.

"I don't know why you guys read that crap. It is so fake news." Donna chimed.

"As if. Creem is the apex of investigative journalism." Sylvia retorted. The Creem and The Rolling Stones were her gospels, she dreamed of one day sitting with the big boys at the table and writing alongside them.

Michael sat beside Eric with an ice pop, intently popping it in and out of his lips. His body was present but his mind had drifted off to... elsewhere.

Sylvia's eyes were now glued to his mouth, consumed by the action of suction. Thoughts racing, a mile a minute. Oh how she wished to be that ice pop.

"Mike!" She called out again, mostly to stop herself from thinking rather than to get his attention.

"Hmm? Oh, right, um, what?" He stammered, still in half a daze.

"Have you heard about Jimmy page?"

Jimmy page was the guitarist for Led Zeppelin. Zeppelin was practically the reason their friendship had lasted well into their teens.

——————

When Sylvia was 10 she got a hold of her parents record 'Led Zeppelin I' and ran to Forman's with the news that she had done something bitchin'. Forman being the straight-laced child that he is, marvelled at the heroic act of parental theft and declared right then that Sylvia was so rock and roll.

Steven strolled in, after getting into yet another fight with Norma, and saw little Syl pop the record in. He took in the sight of her beating her head to the sounds of revolution, and decided that she was his chick — not that he'd confess it.

(It didn't take him long to gift his most prized Zeppelin band top to her in the guise of friendship.)

On the sofa laid a flat out Kelso, he had fallen asleep earlier that day, ranting non-stop to Eric about how he was going to be the best looking person on the planet, and awoke to the tunes. Kelso was well versed in the genius of Led Zeppelin for his older brother was a run of the mill Led Head.

The group harboured that record until Kitty had discovered them in the basement thrashing about in a poor imitation of a mosh pit a few years later and proclaimed it to be the 'devils music'.

——————

"Page said he was 'optimistic about the future'," she mimicked in a mock tone, "what kind of bull is that. I'm not a major cynic but I know we're doomed and he's just having people on. How could he say that?"

"Oh, I-"

Thank you, universe he thought as he got interrupted before he was forced into speaking on something he had entirely no clue about or opinion of.

"It's like he has no regard to our failures as a society. How can he spurt that crap with acknowledgment to how demented the world has become."

"You're just saying that because you're an anarchist." Donna hit back.

"No, she's punk." Steven corrected.

"Donna, if I'm anarchist than what the hell is Hyde? There can't be two or we'd all run mad. I'm just a realist."

"According to you, we're all already mad." Donna rolled her eyes. It's too early for this shit she thought.

"This is why Robert Plant is the lead man of Led Zeppelin. I don't know why you take Kelso's side of thinking Page is cosmic talent." Hyde argued.

"Now hold on a minute, Jimmy Page is the greatest guitarist this world has ever known. You're just jealous Syl recognises I have better taste."

"That's uncool man, Jimmy Page the greatest guitarist? Don't disgrace Jimi Hendrix like that."

"I don't know, John Paul Jones is my country's mascot." Fez announced

"Shut up Fez!" Both Hyde and Steven shouted.