Obviously this is just a demo, Violet. But with a name like that I had to try you out. You’re ggreat! But, like I said, doll: DEMO with a capital D E M O. I don’t know how you fit so many on your body and still be you.”
“It’s hard!” she said, her song over with. “1999”: sooo predictable, he thinks. “Are we still here?” he pats himself all over after the oh-so-familiar lyrics mercifully halt — even at that special place. “Am I still alive?!” Works with most but not Violet, specially named for the occasion even. True demos like this don’t have much of a sense of humor or any other sense. Basically just sight and sound. All they need. Next!
Wheeler clumsily gets up out of her seat in her awkward wear and makes her way to the now vacated stand.
“Soo glad you *made* it cutie pie. And dressed in my favorite color, *aww*. You’ve done your research! Love it. Love it love it love it, mmm mm MM.” Wheeler knew he was also admiring her legs which was part of the plan too. Orange fruit to emphasize the orange color. Gams sticking out all long beneath it to make the pitch more seductive.
“Yes I know it’s not what demo *Violet* was wearing, what *you’re* wearing.” At the microphone now she glances over at him and his own “costume”.
“Right, this is just for show. If I wore orange 2/3rds of my fans probably wouldn’t even recognize me. I just become another run-of-the-mill hip black dude to them, unrecognizable from the rest, hmph.” And maybe, one day, one day not in the too far future, we’ll be wedded in orange, he thought to himself, checking her up and down again from his behind position. If the, ahem, rehearsal goes well.
“All right, luscious legs, juice up that voice and squeeze me out a tune!” tbc?
