To Those Who Don't Belong

23

I still felt ugly and fat. I ate, though. I had to make George happy. I would hate myself if I lied to him.

I just had to lose the weight in a different way. I could force myself to vomit or take a ton of pills. That could kill me. And, people would be able to tell what I was doing.

I'd just have to work it all off.

"George?"

"Yes, darling?" He was on his phone, yet adverted his attention from it to look at me.

"I'm gonna go for a jog..." I was quiet.

"Ritchie," he stood up and walked over to me. His nose almost touched mine. "Please don't do this. You don't need to lose weight. I know what you're at. Please, just sit down and meditate or watch t.v." he put his hand on my chin.

"No," I slapped his hand away and looked at the door.

"Richard?" He aggressively cupped my face and smashed his lips into mine. I didn't like it. It was all to much like what Dr. Robert did. Sure, he didn't kiss me, but he did force himself on me.

George put his hands in different spots, forcefully.

"S-stop it!" I pushed him away, "what the hell?!"

"I-I just wanted to show you how beautiful you are."

"Well, that's not how you do It!" I was fuming. It felt like he was hurting me.

"Well how do I do It then?!" His hands forcefully grabbed my shoulders, "you won't listen to me any other way! God!" He pushed me away. "You know what?" he stepped away and put his hands on his back, "I'm going for a jog. Not you," he rolled his eyes as he pushed me and opened the door saying, "Hare Krishna," before leaving and slamming the door.

I slowly started crying. I put my head in my hands and breathed heavily. I looked at the kitchen. The magic drinks were in there.

I sauntered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I sighed and grabbed a beer.

I slammed it and grabbed another. Like the pancakes, one turned into two, and pretty soon it turned to four. I was bored with beer now.

I changed out of my pyjamas into a black pair of skinny jeans, a Doors shirt, and a red open flannel. I lazily put on my black Chuck Taylor's and stumbled out of the door. Everything seemed so hot and dizzying.

I made it outside and walked in slight zig zag lines into bar with bright lights. The lights spelled out The Keiserkeller. I boldly walked in and slumped over to the bar.

I looked at the menu, and found that I didn't feel like drinking.

"What can I get you?" a man with a nose as characterized as mine asked. His eyes were stern and his voice was like whiskey.

"Nothing. What's your name?" I knew I wasn't going to meet anybody here, so why not try to make friends with the bartender.

"Bob. Bob Dylan," smirked.

"Hi, Bob. I'm Richard, but you can call me Ringo."

"Interesting. That's real original. I like that," he cleaned a glass and kept on talking. "Ooh, watch this guy. He's the real crowd pleaser," he pointed to the dark stage when all of a sudden blue lights flashed on. The crowd roared.

"Hello, darlings," a skinny man in a light blue suit and orange hair strutted on stage, "my name is David, but most of you know me as Ziggy. Ziggy Stardust," he sat down at a piano and played the most beautiful tune I had ever heard.

"Her mommy is yelling no," his voice was equally as beautiful, "but her daddy has told her to go," he sang of sailors fighting in the dancehall, and pondering of life on mars.

When he finished his show of five songs he  came off the stage. I watched him walk up to the seat next to mine.

"You're new," he wore feminine makeup, "what's your name?"

"Richard but-"

"But you can call him Ringo," Bob laughed behind the counter.

"Ringo?" his orange hair shone brightly in the lights, "I like it. So, are you drinking to forget, or remember?"

"I was drinking to forget. But, now I want something else. Not pot, but I don't know," I trailed off.

"Come with me. I think I may have something you'll like," he grabbed my hand. I waved goodbye to Bob and he waved back.

David unlocked a door and pulled me in. The walls were covered with band posters. There was only one other person in the room. His black hair was slicked back and he had a nice pornstache. He smirked at me.

"I'm Freddie, and you are?"

"Ringo," I smiled.

"Hot," he smacked my back side playfully. I jumped a bit, but I relaxed. He was just playing.

"You said you wanted something other than alcohol, right?" David walked over and sat down on the floor. I nodded shyly, "okay, but you can't tell anyone about this, you dig?"

"I dig," David pulled a floor board up and took out a duffel bag. What could possibly be in there. Acid? He pulled out a plastic bag with white powder in it. "Oh," my eyes got large.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. Everyone does it here," Freddie put his hand on my shoulder. I watched David use a card to make three lines of it. He took out three dollar bills.

"Here," he handed me one of the dollars, "can you guess what to do with it?" I just nodded and copied what I had seen off of HBO specials.

We all rolled the dollar bills up. I was the last to lean over my line and sniff it all up. It burned at first. I sat back in a chair and looked up. The rest is a blur.