One day, Marilyn Manson was bored.
"I could burn down my house," he thought out loud, but he concluded that that wouldn't be a very good idea, since he would lose his paintings and his cat and would probably get arrested.
"Meow," said his cat Lily, then another cat appeared.
"What the fuck," Marilyn remarked, but thought nothing further of it, as cats are magical beings and probably Satan's faction of earthly knights.
"Meow," said Lily, and Marilyn considered this.
"I could go ask Johnny on a date... but I think he's away filming Pirates of the Caribbean 16. I wanna be a pirate, Lily."
"Meow," said Lily.
"You're right. I can be a pirate. I'm gonna go be a pirate at Ozzy's house." So, Marilyn Manson got dressed up in some pirate clothing he had stolen from a foreclosed Spirit Halloween factory supervised by a crackhead, and looked at himself in the mirror.
"Ar," he said, and applied his sexy lipstick in case anyone was watching. Then he decided to go all out, and make himself look like the hottest fuckking pirate the world has ever seen, (move over Johnny) because someone will definitely be watching. They always are. They... always... are. "Arr, motherfucker," he kissed himself in the mirror, and got an erection from it. Five minutes later, he washed his hands after jerking off, and put the TV on for Lily. She curled up and began to watch In Like Flint, (her favorite movie).
Marilyn opened the door, and found David Letterman standing there.
"You are a fucking joke," Mr. Letterman said, smiling. Marilyn picked him up, and threw him into the trees, hurdling over the cliffs of the Hollywood Hills. Manson got into his great glass elevator (he had one made, since he was such a big fan of Willy Wonka's) and flew over to Ozzy's house. He knocked on the door, then fled to the bushes.
"Who the fuck is that at the door?" Ozzy asked.
"How the fucking fuck should I know, Ozzy?!" Sharon responded.
"Fuck me sideways and call me a gimp," Ozzy sighed, and took off his sunglasses, replacing them with another pair of sunglasses. Then he opened the door. "Aye?!" he called. His voice echoed 5 times like in the beginning of Crazy Train.
"There's no earthly way of knowing... which direction we are going...." Marilyn whispered. It was creepy, and had the desired effect. Ozzy went through the roof.
"Sharooon, the spirits are speaking to me again!"
"Lay off the meth, Ozzy, ya boob!"
"I can't fucking lay off the meth, ivent got any!"
"What's that up your ass!?"
"Aye! (Aye aye aye aye aye)"
Marilyn crawled in through the window, and posed in a sexy position. Ozzy turned. "Bloody hell. Who invited the pirate hooker?" Sharon gasped, because she was already horny for Marilyn anyway.
"Hi guys," Marilyn said boredly, cause he was bored. He ate some cashews that were sitting on the table, did 12 lines of coke that were sitting on the table, ate some peanuts, then started firing them from his gorgeous lips like an automatic rifle all over the walls of the Osbourne Mansion (Mansion/Manson haha). Ozzy was flabbergasted.
"What the fuck are you doing destroying my house, Manson?" he asked in dismay as his favourite vase shattered.
"I'm bored," Marilyn repeated, and did a backflip. "I'm also having an identity crisis." His mismatched eyes welled up, and his contact slipped out and floated away in his river of tears. "I don't think I'm one of the beautiful people anymore."
"Aw sweetie. I do," Sharon offered.
"You don't count, woman," Ozzy pointed a shaky finger at her warily, "You'd fuck a monkey with tits!" Sharon was offended, so she took out a fucking bazooka canon, aimed it at her husband, and shot him seventeen times. He didn't die though, because he's Ozzy and that would ruin our story.
"Wow," Marilyn said, then got out his tattoo gun, tattooing that word onto his wrist. Yeah, Ozzy Osbourne's immortality is the reason behind that tattoo, kids. The pain of the tattoo made Marilyn horny again, so he took off all his pirate clothes and fucked Sharon. Sharon screamed her husband's name to make him feel better, since Ozzy was just standing there watching them in dismay.
"Oh, Ozzy," Sharon screamed.
"Oh, Ozzy," Marilyn agreed.
"Oh, Ozzy," Ozzy sighed, and drank down an entire bottle of Kentucky fried bourbon. Sharon and Marilyn got up, cleaning off, and then he went upstairs to do some acid in the shower.
Up in the bathroom, he pulled the shower curtain back, and found Omēga and their mechanical animals band all having an orgy in the bathtub. "Do you fucking mind?" the pretty alien asked, and Marilyn nodded, closing the curtains and finding another bathroom with a better shower.
"I'm such a spooky kid," he said, and ingested 42 tablets of acid. He should have overdosed by all laws of human limitation, but this is the Antichrist Superstar God of Fuck we're talking about here, you ignorant fucking sluts. So, he survived, but it was the scariest twelve hours of his life.
"D a d d y!" He called out to the extremely attractive man standing ahead of him in the room full of moving flowers. The daddy man turned, and Marilyn gasped. It was him, but twenty years in the future.
"H e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e y," his future self said. His future self was drunk, but it was a good look on him.
"I like your Mohawk," younger Marilyn said.
"Yea I know, me too," older Marilyn giggled, spanking his own ass. He had a really hot grill in his mouth. Not like a burger grill like from Spongebob, but a teeth grill thing. Shiny. Younger Marilyn made a mental note to get one too.
"You're gonna write a really fucking cool album called Heaven Upside Down," he told his younger self, "And you're gonna get blamed for the Columbine school shooting."
"That already happened."
"Oh right." His older self turned, sashaying away, but younger Marilyn wasn't having it.
"No daddy, where are you going?"
"I'm leaving, babyboy," he said, and then he turned around again. It was David Letterman, smiling.
"You are a fucking joke," he told Marilyn Manson, so Marilyn ate him.
When Marilyn woke up in the shower thirty days later, there were fifty (50) cats surrounding him. "This is a predicament," he whispered, and began to vomit real living frogs. The frogs jumped around, and each one turned into a dead President.
"I like your video for Coma White," John F Kennedy (who totally wasn't a frog in disguise) said, shaking his hand so hard it ripped off.
"That's fucking narcissistic," Marilyn told him, and drop kicked the poor dead man. The frog President man began to melt and turned into a puddle of fun dip, which Marilyn snorted all of. "Don't do drugs kids," he said, and crashed through the floor.
The rock star dropped right on top of Sharon and Ozzy's strip cribbage game. "Fuck sake," Sharon sighed.
"That means I win," Ozzy said, wearing nothing but pantyhose. Marilyn got up, and decided to raid his friend's fridge. Before he could get to it though, the fridge ran away. That's okay. He was full from eating David Letterman in the shower. Just as he was walking into the kitchen, another talk show host materialized. Jay Leno.
"I mean," Marilyn shrugged. Jay Leno was his friend anyway, not foe. He was very perplexed though. Why all the talk show hosts?
"Marilyn," Jay said. It wasn't him. It was a robot, being controlled by John 5, who had shrunken himself and was living inside Leno's brain. He was there for revenge for that one time Marilyn kicked him in the face onstage (and rightly he should get his revenge). Technically that hasn't happened yet, because this is Antichrist Superstar era, but what the fuck, we've already dabbled in linear manipulation.
"John 5?" Marilyn asked.
"No I'm Jay Leno," he replied. Then his chin got even longer and sharper and he started to whip it around like a sword attached to his face.
"Oh, holy shit," Marilyn said, and jumped up onto the counter. He started pelting Jay Leno/John 5 with jars of mayonnaise, but it did no good. He just kept eating all the jars whole, like a snake. Then Ozzy came in.
"Marilyn, phone's for you."
They paused their fight, and Marilyn took the phone."Yeah?"
"It's me, Satan."
"I'd love to see you again Brian, you know... last time was good, sex was great... I don't know, you just made me feel special."
"This isn't a good time," Marilyn said, watching as Jay Leno's hands turned into buzzsaws, "I'll call you." He tossed the landline back to Ozzy, who was smoking a pair of Sharon's panties.
"Wrong number!" Manson called, and in a rage, Ozzy fucking yeeted the phone out the window, hitting Trent Reznor in the head where he was backyard camping outside.
"Face me, mortal," Jay spoke in a low, demonic possessed type voice.
"Bold of you to assume I'm mortal," Marilyn replied, and got out two black dildos, whipping them around like nunchucks. The dildos had his face on them (like the ones for sale on his website). Just then, before he was gonna use the dildos to whack Jay Leno to death, Twiggy Ramirez climbed out of the sink garberator. His eyeshadow was on point. "Hey baby," Marilyn roared in confusion.
"Whiskey and speed," Twiggy hissed, and pounced on Jay 5, absolutely obliterating him in the ultimate sacrifice. Marilyn felt tears prick his eyes at how good a friend Twiggy was for doing that, and in the ensuing river of tears, his blue contact came floating back up into his eye.
"I can see again," he remarked, "Auntie M, I can see again! Clarence! I WANNA LIVE AGAIN!"
"Fine," said the angel, and poof-- Twiggy, Jay, Trent, Ozzy and Sharon were all gone. David Letterman whizzed by him through the air, smiling and calling him a joke. His older self followed on a dangerous looking skateboard with brass knuckles, winking, and beat David up in mid air as they flew by. It wasn't really him though, he was wearing orange, it was Ron Tully from SOA. Which is kinda him, but. Yeah.
"I miss my dogs!" Ron called, punching David as he soared by on the giant rainbow Marilyn was hallucinating. Younger Marilyn watched on in awe. Was he experiencing astral projection? Hmmm..... Then he saw his cat, but like 500x her usual size. It was Lily. Lily was God.
"I am God," said Lily, "Hear me meow." Then Marilyn started to meow. He was a cat, all along.
Manson awoke with a start. It had all been a dream. A very bad dream.
"Lily?" he asked cautiously, and was relieved to see he could speak normally, and not like a cat.
"Yes honey?" A woman turned around next to him in bed. It was Dita Von Teese. But it wasn't a woman after all. It was just Ozzy in a wig. Then the person in bed next to him took off his full body Ozzy costume and revealed that it was in fact Johnny Depp.
"Oh," Marilyn said, "I thought you left me for the Caribbean."
"Never," Johnny whispered, and then as he started stroking Marilyn's hair, his fingers turned to noodles. Marilyn got out of bed, because he didn't like the feeling of noodles stroking through his hair.
"I'm gonna go do stuff," Marilyn said, and jumped out the window. His cat followed him. "No," he said, and Lily sat down sadly.
"Where am I?" he asked himself aloud. He was home, but...
Just then, he felt a hand grab him and wHIP him into a car. It was Rob Zombert in full concert makeup, banging his head angrily. "Hey hey HEY YEAH WEEELLLL ma twin of evil, are you ready to dig through the ditches and burn through the witches and slam in the back of my DRAGULA?!!!!!1!1!!!!"
"I guess," Marilyn sighed. Rob must be practicing for his new hit single, Dragula With Marilyn Manson In The Passenger Seat. He saw someone ahead of them in the road. "Oh no look out." They stopped the Dragula.
"Have you got a moment to talk about our Lord and savior Jesus Christ?" the man smiled. Marilyn wanted to cry, but he was scared he would lose his contact again, so he just sat there and disassociated. But the man kept smiling. Marilyn frowned. That smile was too familiar..........
"You are a fucking joke," the man said, and out of his body cavity stepped David Letterman.
"This is harassment," Marilyn complained, "I'm gonna sue you."
David Letterman gave him a cheerful thumbs up. "Tonight's gonna be a great show folks, our next guest is a--"
Rob ran him over, (not that the beast can stay dead) and they continued on their way. "I gotta wake up," Marilyn whispered, "For real this time. There's no place like home, there's no place like home." He clinked his big goth platform boots together, and an explosion of glitter went off around him. His version of Tainted Love started playing on the radio, and Rob would've switched it, but Rob was gone. He just fucking disappeared, probably to hell or something.
"I WANNA GO HOWOAWOAWOAME!" Marilyn metal screamed, and an MTV popcorn award hit him in the head. He woke up, and he was in his bed, alone, petting his cat and nursing a glass of absinthe that he had spilled half of on his crotch.
"Ah," he sighed, "Finally. Those drugs at Ozzy's place were probably laced with something wacky. If that was even real." He began to sing in a warbled, off key but still really good voice. "I DON'T LIKE THE DRUGS BUT THE DRUGS LIKE MEEE." Then Lily got up, turned into Obama, and walked through the wall. Marilyn didn't care. She did that every day. "Wow. What a fucking life," he nodded, then got on a trampoline and catapulted himself into space, where he went to visit Omēga, his alien cousin. "Hi babe," he said to the genderless alien.
"Hi," the beautiful, glamorous alien sighed.
"You look pretty."
"I don't feel pretty," they sighed.
"Maybe it was the orgy."
"No, I just think the government has taken advantage of me and all my star power," they sighed, starting to cry. Since they were in space, the tears dropped down to earth and put out all the fires in the Amazon. Omēga is a good egg. Send them thank you mail for saving the human race, 1 like = 1 respect.
"Aw, it's okay, sweetie," Marilyn hugged them, "I'll take you for some ice cream next time you're on earth, okay?"
"Okay. I just feel like.... I don't know."
"Like we're all stars now."
"In the dope show."
"Yeah," Marilyn backed away slowly, because he just got an idea for a song. "Gotta go, love to the family."
"See you," Omēga blew him a kiss, shaking their red hair, then relaxed back in a feather boa with some mountain Dew.
Marilyn returned to earth, and realized something important. This wasn't a dream. Life was just this wild. He looked at you. You looked at him. He stared into your soul with that single icy white contact.
"What if you're trapped in my sweet dream right now?" he asked, and you gasped, closing the tab on this story. After all... sweet dreams are made of this. Who are you to disagree?