Chapter 2- George Michael Cometh

Ash and friends found themselves in a strange building hidden in the dark corners of Mt. Silver.  It was perfectly secluded with only the best security the music industry could buy.  To give you an idea how tough the security was, most of the bodyguards used to work for Puff Daddy, and they were all traumatized by chairs for some reason.  The building held a huge sign in the front labeled, Androgynous Wussies Boyband Academy.  They were locked in a classroom, with a mysterious guru who only referred to himself as “Joe”.

“Now my children.  You have embarked upon a journey into the murky depths of pop culture, one from which no man has returned alive.  You have formed a boyband, and you will become the muse of perverted sexual fantasies ranging from the most pre-pubescent girl, to the most homosexual, middle-aged fat guy.”

Gary impatiently yelled, “Oh shut up!!!  Who are you to teach us anything about boybands?!  How hard can it be to lip-synch and expose your bare-naked chest?!  And how come I’m not the leader of the Palletstreet Boys?!  I’m much sexier and talented than Ash and his friends combined!”

“WHAT!!!” Ash and his friends yelled simultaneously.
Joe smacked Gary across the head with what looked a spongy rubber penis and chastised him, “HOW DARE YOU MOCK ME, YOU MAN YOU!!!!  I AM JOE, ALMIGHTY GOD OF BOYBANDS, FORMER MEMBER OF NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK!!!!!!  EVERY HO AND FAG IN THE UNIVERSE WAS READY TO KISS MY LEFT TESTICLE, YOU INSIGNIFICANT PIECE OF DONPHAN DUNG!!!!”
Ash, Brock, and Richie asked Joe simultaneously, “What’s...New Kids on the Block???!!!”
Tracey answered nonchalantly, “Oh, they were a boyband in the early 90’s, which was the model for later pop boybands in the years to follow.”
Brock asked him, “Wow.  How did you know that, Tracey?!”
Unleashing a huge sweatdrop, Tracey mumbled, “Umm...well, heh-heh...umm.”

“Enough!!!” Joe said, “Now we begin today with my favorite lesson which I like to call, THE LOVE JUICE: DON’T SPILL IT!!!  Now I will teach you a line which you will be using about 90% throughout your singing career.  Repeat after me!!!”
Ash and friends looked on as Joe broke the room’s silence with the following phrase, “The baby is not mine.”
“Huh?!  I don’t get it, Joe.  What’s that supposed to mean?!” Ash inquired.
Richie exclaimed, “Ash!!!  Don’t ask!!!  Just repeat or he’ll hit you with the penis.  THE BABY IS NOT MINE!!!”
Everyone chanted, “The baby is not mine.  The baby is not mine.  The baby is not mine.”

Misty and Jigglypuff sped down Victory Road, heading towards the stronghold that was the Androgynous Wussies Boyband Academy.  Jigglypuff stopped right on the hillside and popped open the trunk.  Misty was frightened by what she saw, for Jigglypuff had put on a headband, combat make-up, an AK-47, a bow, and a quiver of explosive-tipped arrows.  A mob of bodyguards armed with Uzis ran towards the Puffmobile.
“MEEESTY!!!  GET BEHIND ME!!!” Jigglpuff yelled as Misty ran behind it.
“NOWWW......KEESSS MY JIGGLY-BUTT!!!”
Jigglypuff pulled the trigger, mowing down every single bodyguard from atop the Puffmobile.  Gunshots blazed for what seemed like ten minutes, and the bodies piled up like firewood, until he ran out of bullets.
“GRRR......DAMN PRESIDENT CLINTON AND HEES DEFENSE SPENDING CUTS!!!”
Misty warned, “Jigglypuff!!!  There’s only one bodyguard left, and it’s one really big, tough-looking black guy!!!”
“AAAHHHH,  I’VE HEARD RUMORRSS THAT THE MUSIC INDUSTRY LOVES USING EX-BODYGUARDS OFF PUFF DADDY FOR HIGH SECURITY!!!  QUEEK MEESTY!!!  HAND ME ZE WOODEN CHAIR IN ZE TRUNK!!!”
“Right!!!” Misty said as she handed Jigglypuff the chair.
The black dude all of a sudden unleashed major sweatdrops and yelled in a pyschotic fear, “NO!!!  PUFF DADDY PLEASE!!!  NOT THE CHAIR!!!  DON’T HIT ME WITH THE CHAIR!!!  AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Jigglypuff and Misty breathed a sigh of relief as the black guy ran off into the sunset and jumped off a cliff.

Back in the boyband academy, Ash, Brock, Tracey, Richie, and Gary, under the command of the mythical one called Joe, got completely naked and sat in a circle while holding hands.  They were being taught how to channel their sexual energies and summon the ultimate sex appeal.  They summoned the ghost of George Michael (A/N for the purposes of this fic, George Michael is dead) and he proceeded to speak the sexual truths only he could pass to the newest sex symbols of the world.

“HEAR ME, YOU DELICIOUS LITTLE BOYS YOU!!! “George Micheal said in a rather fast, effeminate voice, “MY PUPIL JOE TOLD ME ABOUT YOUR LITTLE BOYBAND AND I JUST WANT TO SAY YOUR ALL RATHER CUTE, EXCEPT FOR THE KID WITH NO EYES!!!  OOPS, I’M SORRY.  DID THAT SLIP???”
Brock got pissed off, but still maintained his concentration as George Michael continued, “I’M HERE TO ANSWER ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS.  I SENSE A QUESTION FROM THE BOY WITH THE WEIRD LINES UNDER HIS EYES.  WHAT’S YOUR NAME, SWEETIE POO???!!!”
“Oh, my name’s Ash!  I have one little question.  What’s the meaning behind the words “The baby is not mine”?”
“WELL, WELL, I WOULDN’T KNOW THAT ONE.  GUYS CAN’T GET KNOCKED UP AND...OOPS.  DID THAT SLIP???  I’M SORRY, YOU’LL HAVE TO FIND THE ANSWER TO THAT ONE ON YOUR OWN.”
Brock raised his hand and asked George Michael a question, “How come I don’t have any groupies yet??? It’s been two weeks already, and no one’s attempted to tear my clothes off!!!”
“WELL, WELL HAVE YOU BOTHERED TO LOOK IN THE MIRROR?  I MEAN, YOU HAVE A CUTE LITTLE TUSH AND ALL BUT...OOPS, DID THAT SLIP???  NEXT QUESTION PLEASE!!!”
Tracey raised his hand, “Umm, Mr. Michael.  I’m honored to speak to such a famous masturb, I mean master!!!  How come I find guys are copping more feels from my butt than girls???”
“WELL, WELL.  HOW CAN I SAY THIS?  YOU ARE WHAT THEY CALL, IN MY WORLD, SWEET MEAT.  I MEAN, YOU LOOK LIKE ONE DELICIOUS, "GRADE A" SLICE OF ASS...OOPS, DID THAT SLIP???
Gary angrily interjected with his question, impatiently listening to lisp of George, “Damn it!!!  Enough of their stupid questions!!!  How come I wasn’t picked for the lead of this freakin’ band!!!”
“WELL, WELL, HMM...HOW DO I SAY THIS?  YOU JUST PLAIN SUCK, MANKEY BOY!!!  OOPS, DID THAT SLIP???  I GUESS NOT!!!  NEXT QUESTION!!!”
Richie asked George Michael perhaps the most intelligent question of them all, “George Michael, how come all successful boybands have five members?”
“WELL, WELL, FINALLY A SMART QUESTION.  THE REASON BOYBANDS HAVE FIVE MEMBERS IS SIMPLE MATH.  FIVE TALENTLESS, SEMI-ATTRACTIVE BOYS EQUAL ONE SUPERTALENTED, SEX GOD OF A SUPERSTAR, MARKETABLE SEX FOR GREEDY MUSIC EXECS!!!”
“Gee, that explains a lot!” Tracey said.
“WELL NOW, I HAVE TO GO.  I PROMISED RENALDO I’D JOIN HIM AT THE BATHHOUSE FOR A LITTLE GAME OF HIDE THE LONG MIKE!!!  BYE, MY LITTLE BOYS!!! AND YOU ASH, STOP THINKING ABOUT WHOEVER THAT REDHEAD IS I SENSE IN YOUR MIND!!!”

With those words, George Michael disappeared in a puff of smoke, saying in an Obi-Wan Kenobi-like gay voice, “The whores will be with you...always.”
Joe and the other boys scrambled to Ash, with Brock asking him about what he was thinking.
“I’m sorry, everyone, but I...I can’t stop thinking about Misty.  Even with the tons of girls trying to rip my underwear off,” Ash said.
Joe said, “All of you remember this.  True love is the death of the boyband.  Let it not happen to any of you!  Ash, don’t think about whoever this Misty is, and try to enjoy the hordes of hoes lined up at your feet!  Got it!!!”
Ash answered, “Yeah, but...WE GAVE EACH OTHER THE MOST WONDERFUL HICKEYS!!!”
Everyone backed away from him disturbedly, haunted by images of little Ash and Misty hickeying each other, and put their clothes back on while Joe pulled out his cellphone and mumbled, “Antoine!!!  Get me The Slutwhore Britney Spears.  I need her to de-infatuate one of my boyband pupils.  NOWWW!!!”