Mercy For Michael
I am thinking that if I ever had the chance, I would do Michael Jackson the favor of giving him a time machine and allowing him the chance to visit himself on the cusp of his great success to warn him of the fate that awaits him in the years to come…
Young Michael: Wow! Thriller is selling better than I’d ever hoped! I have more money than I know what to do with! I wonder what I should do first? Maybe get a new look? I’ve never been fond of this nose…
[Bright lights flash as a DeLorean car equipped with a flux capaciter breaks through the space time continuum to power slide right in front of young Michael Jackson. Old Michael Jackson steps out, white as a sheet, wearing black clothing, a surgical mask and sunglasses]
Old Michael: Mike, don’t do it! There are so many things you can avoid right NOW if you just listen to me!
YM: SHAM ON! Who are you?!!?!
OM: I’m you from the 21st century!
YM: Get out! You can travel through time?!?
OM: Yeah, a kindly geek who talks about Grand Theft Auto San Andreas all the time gave it to me out of the kindness of his heart. Well, after I gave him 25 million dollars for it.
YM: (In trademark Jackson style) OOOooo! You… I mean WE… have that much money?!?
OM: You know it. We’d have more except that certain mistakes were made. I’m here to warn you so you can avoid the awful destiny we have in store.
YM: What destiny?
Old Michael Jackson pulls off surgical mask to reveal cavity where a nose should be.
YM: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!! OUR NOSE!! WHERE IS IT??!!?
OM: You know how much we like Diana Ross?
YM: Yeah?
OM: Like her less. A LOT less. You’re Michael Jackson, not Diana Ross. You’ll keep your nose if you remember that.
YM: What about the rest of us?
OM: Don’t ask. Just believe me when I say this… If a plastic surgeon tells you it’s not a good idea to do something, LISTEN TO HIM. Don’t go off and find another plastic surgeon who’ll do the procedure because you threw enough money at him.
[Old Michael Jackson sneezes. His ear falls off. He casually reaches down and affixes it to his head, the sound of velcro heard in the air.]
OM: Just trust me on this, okay?
[Young Michael Jackson nods stunned]
YM: What else?
OM: You know Elvis’ kid?
YM: Lisa? She’s GREAT! WE LOVE LISA!
OM: Not after the divorce you won’t. She’ll break you. Believe me, she’ll BREAK you. Oh and you know those sleep overs you have with guys? You know how you always wished the sleep overs could be with more folks, and how it would be really nice to have some kids over?
[Young Michael nods cautiously. Old Michael produces a Playstation Portable that plays some of the court video footage where his on the witness stand]
YM: What’s this?!?
OM: Trial. Seems playtime with the kiddes gets us into some legal hotwater. It gets ugly.
YM: Uglier than you?
OM: [Frowning] This is YOU, you know, so laugh it up…
[Young Michael Jackson looks about to burst into tears, his lower lip trembling]
YM: What about monkeys? Are monkeys still okay?
OM: Yeah, monkeys are okay, but you’re gonna’ get punched out by one [He stops to rub his nose in bitter remembrance than remembers he doesn't have one anymore]
YM: Geez, this sounds pretty bad… Does ANYTHING good happen?
OM: Like the Beatles yet?
YM: No.
OM: You will. That’ll pay off pretty well when you buy their songs….
YM: I can’t do that! They own it, it would be wrong to take something they made!
OM: When you talk to Bill Gates, he’ll change your mind about that.
YM: Liz Taylor protect me…
OM: I’d give up on the Liz stuff too. The shrine? It won’t do you any good. And neither will she.
YM: This is TERRIBLE!
OM: That’s what I’m saying! Forget about this future and beat it! It’s just a thriller night! All those girls, they’re not your lovers, they’re just the girls who think that you are the one, but the kids are not your sons.
YM: Hey, you’re ripping me off!
OM: Everyone will, young Padawan. Big, big pieces…
YM: What’s a Padawan?
OM: You’ll see…