Prologue

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Hey there, so this is something I started writing back in May out of boredom and I'm warning ya'll now that this is probably gonna be stupid as hell and might not make any sense. However, while this might seem stupid and silly, it will also get serious from time to time. At the time of writing this I think I was going slightly mad from being in quarantine. 😂 Anyways, a lot of these chapters will be short, others might be long, I don't know. Also as of now, I've declared this as Maylor. Enjoy. 😁

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"Hello! You've reached the fabulous home of Freddie Mercury and my lovely husband Jim Hutton, who believe it or not has the biggest cock ever!"

"Freddie, what the fuck?!"

"Jim darling hush! Anyway, if you leave your name and number, and sound cute, I may just call you back. Ciao lovey!"

The answering machine message beeped and Brian slammed the payphone back on the hook. This was literally the tenth time he tried calling Freddie to have Jim come and pick him up since he was out drinking and by now he was so wasted he practically couldn't see straight. His boyfriend Roger had disappeared hours ago and well Disco Deaky was at home with the wife no doubt getting busy on baby Deacon #5 or some shit.

"Bloody hell," he grumbles.

"Oi Brian, put the telly down and come have another drink!" someone calls out.

Brian turned and went to the bar area where his group of buddies were at. "Right then, who's round is it?"

"Yours!" the group shouts in unison.

His face scrunched up in discomfort at the thought of consuming more alcohol. "What the hell, again?" 

"Awww come on, poodle head!" one shouts.

Brian sighed. "Alrighty then..."

***some time later that night***

The room spun like crazy as Brian finished off the round of Absinthe. Everyone cheered and was just about to call for another round when the bartender called out that the bar was closing for the night. 

"Fuck off the lot of ya, bar's closing!"

Groans and protests from the drinkers filled the room. Brian was however thankful since he felt like vomiting after consuming so much alcohol.

"Well I guess it's time I head on home," he slurs. "You lads enjoy yourselves and I'll see the lot of you next week or whatever."

Grabbing his beloved Red Special, he hiccuped and stumbled through the bar and out into the rainy night too stinking drunk to realize that he hated getting his precious guitar wet. It was dark as fuck out and the fresh air only made Brian's head spin more. He doubled over and vomited onto the sidewalk right in front of a little old man that was dressed like a monk. The monk growled.

Brian giggled nervously. "Ah sorry about that old chap. Gotta go."

The little old man glared up at the tall curly haired guitarist as he stumbled away into the darkness of the night.

𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗠𝗮𝘆'𝘀 𝗕𝗮𝗱 𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗗𝗮𝘆 (𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻/𝗖𝗕𝗙𝗗 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘆)Where stories live. Discover now