Thriller...and maracas?

    I'm gonna do it this time. I'm gonna be the best race car driver ever. "Ladies and gentlemen! It's Ricky Rudd." Watch me race my car from the closet to the bed. My room is Nascar, my bed the winners circle. But wait I've won and now they are asking me to dance. On my chubby toes I twinkle across the winners circle to my stage.
     My fingers clasped around green and yellow fisher price maracas, keeping the rhythm for my transformation from Ricky Rudd to Coco. "Remember my name. Fame. I'm gonna live forever. I'm gonna learn how to fly High. I feel it coming together. People will see me and cry. Fame. I'm gonna make it to heaven. Light up the sky like a flame. Fame. I'm gonna live forever. Baby, remember my name. Fame." Crouched ready for the finale of my dance and I am struck down. Flat on the floor with my maracas rolling slowly away. 
    I am dead and yet I rise, slowly, my dead flesh reeking and my tousled hair splayed across my sweaty face. My skin is ghostly, my eyes sunken into their sockets. Black circles encasing their empty greyness. My jaw is slack; my fingers curled into claws. My arms suddenly alive again raise up toward my face. They hang there as my body rocks back and forth. "'Cause this is thriller, thriller night and no one's gonna save you from the beast about strike. You know it's thriller, thriller night. You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight."




    I am standing in the gym my mom and I rented for my sweet sixteen. My boyfriend is standing behind me with his strong arms wrapped around me. My brain was wandering to how much I liked it when he hugged me and how much I would rather be making out somewhere than in a crowded gym with my mother watching us. We are chatting easily with Kai. He was known to every other girl in school as Dreamy McHot. He had long beautiful black hair and a KILLER smile; always had a string of gooey eyed girls drooling at his backside. But I liked my poofey haired dream boat with big arms, wide smile and a sweet nature.
    Suddenly my wandering mind found a sound distracting. It almost sounded like maracas. I looked up at my mom and she was positively beaming from the side of the sound system. My face dropped its smiling mask and donned on of shear terror as I heard my sweet three year old self announcing proudly "Ladies and Gentlemen! It's Ricky Rudd." 
    Blood rushed to my face giving me the countenance of  an over ripe strawberry. Everyone was quiet. They all were listening to this tape and watching my face perform its Technicolor light show. I turned into my boyfriends chest, trying to bury it in the folds of his shirt. Unfortunately for me instead of a reassuring hug all I got was shaken like Polaroid picture, in the ripples of his laughter. Jerk.