Michael Jackson Imagines & Short Stories

2. Speed Demons (Short Story)

Y/N POV

I was walking out of my dressing room when I heard commotion to my right. I looked over to see a bus of tourists running towards a man in a black leather jacket and pants. He had a black under shirt and buckled leather boots.

The man panicked slightly and started running away. I felt bad for him, and worried. I've seen what crazed fans can do. I gulped and ran after him.

I turned the third corner to see him cornered by two fat twins in scooters. "C'mon! One autograph won't hurt!" One of the twins chortled.

I sprinted past them, the man seeing me and eyes going wide. I ran past him, grabbing his hand on the way, pulling him after me. "Time to go." I said, as I pulled him around the corner.

We sprinted as fast as we could, not saying anything to each other, to save our energy. We turned another corner to see the backs of a few paparazzi. "Not good." I said, taking his wrist and pulling him back to another turn we passed.

We ran into a western film shoot, and the director freaked out. "I ASK FOR A VILLAIN! AND THEY GET ME  MICHAEL JACKSON!?" He screamed.

I turned to the man next to me, "Michael Jackson?!" I said surprised, now seeing the resemblance.

"Yeah." He panted.

"Glad to meet your acquaintance." I panted as well, giving him my hand to shake.

He took it, "Likewise."

One of the Cowboys started to get mad, and we sprinted the other way, not wanting to face their wrath. Michael and I passed two girls in western red entertainment dresses. They screamed at Michael's presence, and he turned to go and say hi. I quickly grabbed the back of his jacket, "Uh uh, loverboy."

He gave me a confused look and I nodded to the Cowboys following us.

"Ah." He said, and ran after me.

We ran past a few more fan girls and we turned what seemed to be the millionth corner. We skidded to a stop when we saw the paparazzi. Their backs were to us, but they were searching for Michael still.

I turned to see if we can run the way we came, but the Cowboys were there, closing the space between us.

"Hey songbird! I'm tired of hearing your voice on my set!" One growled.

The paparazzi turned and saw us.

"Hey! There he is!" One said. They gained up on us.

"Crap." I mutter.

Michael looked around, and pulled on my wrist, walking backwards. "Here!" He opened a door and pulled us in. He slammed and locked it, leaning up against it, panting heavily.

"We know you're in there! Come out! We can hear you!" A nasally voice said outside a clouded window.

"W-what do we do now?" I panted, as I leant against a table. I looked around, seeing costumes galore. I wiped sweat off of my brow.

"Um. I don't know actually..." He muttered, looking at me. "Why'd you help me?"

"It was the nice thing to do. You were going to be ganged up on by crazy fans. I've seen the result of that. Yikes." I shuttered.

He nodded, "Thank you, uh. What's you're name?"

"Y/N Y/L/N." I smiled.

Michael smiled back, "Nice to meet you, Y/N. Now. How are we going to escape?"

I looked around, my eyes landed on two rabbit heads. I smiled and walked over to them. I grabbed one and walked over to Michael. I placed it on his head. "There. It suits you." I giggled.