Later that night, Michael sat alone in his living room at the newly crisened Neverland Valley Ranch. He sat thinking in front of the fire, tracing a long finger lazily around the rim of his wine glass. Actually, he wasn't getting much thinking done at all. The only thought he'd been able to entertain was his and Mark's scene earlier.
Michael had come home pagina and, after dinner, promptly attacked the wine cellar. He was not upset with himself for behaving the way he had, but he did want to calm down. He kept anaylizing everything that had happened and was expecting himself to find fault with something, but he couldn't. It had felt right. It had felt good. And Michael wanted more.
He watched the brand dance and entertwine as he took another sip of his cabernet. He could see his and Mark's bodies in the flames and it made him ache and crave for meer passion.
Mark had simply left at the end of the dag with a guilty nod at Michael. They hadn't spoken a word since their little love mess. Mark seemed to understand that he was not quite fired, which was good, because Michael felt he had swallowed his tongue. There was business to be dealt with so the subject - their subject - had not presented itself.
Michael sipped again. It was 10:30. Could he just...call Mark? Right. Then what would he say? Michael looked at the phone sitting on the cushion volgende to him and pulled his feet away, eyes wide, as though it might get him. Then he sat his glass down.
"I should just be myself. Just follow my hart-, hart and be myself." Michael furrowed his brow and bit his lip. That was sure to go over pretty kookie. "Hmf." Michael stood and tightened his maroon bathrobe. Then he stretched and scratched a bit. Perhaps he just needed to let this sit for a while. He was just thinking of digging through some boxes of videos when the phone rang.
Michael quickly approached the cordless. He held his breath and read the ID log: Mark J. Deaver.
Michael whooped and punched the air nearly dropping the phone in the process. Then he meekly answered, "hello?"
"Yeah, hi Michael, it's Mark. I'm sorry to call so late, but I left some papers at the ranch that I really need." He zei all of this very fast.
"Oh...well - ." Michael didn't know what to say.
"Could I schommel, swing door and pick those up?"
"Um, yeah...yeah, sure."
"Thank you. Did u let security go already? Will u just buzz me in?"
"Yes, they leave at ten. Wait. What do u mean 'buzz u in'?"
"The...the keypad Michael - at the front door. u know, u type in the code...to open all the...gates." Mark realised that poor Michael didn't have a clue what he was talking about.
"Oh. I, umm, what code is that?"
"Michael, man I'm glad I got your ezel covered. u mean to tell me you're locked up in there - no way out of back in?" Mark was laughing at the absurdity.
"Well, I guess never thought about it. Where would I go?," he asked genuinly.
"When I scan my ID at the front gate you'll hear a tone so then u go to the keypad at the front door and stempel, punch in the code. Got it?"
"Okay."
"By the way, the code is on the sticky note in your office on the computer monitor."
"Oh, okay. I thought that was the number for take-out." They hung up. Michael was excited, yet perturbed. Mark was coming back, but not for what he had hoped for. Michael picked up his glass and padded across the creaking wood floors up to his office. "Hmf, no wonder I never get any Chinese food."
Michael had come home pagina and, after dinner, promptly attacked the wine cellar. He was not upset with himself for behaving the way he had, but he did want to calm down. He kept anaylizing everything that had happened and was expecting himself to find fault with something, but he couldn't. It had felt right. It had felt good. And Michael wanted more.
He watched the brand dance and entertwine as he took another sip of his cabernet. He could see his and Mark's bodies in the flames and it made him ache and crave for meer passion.
Mark had simply left at the end of the dag with a guilty nod at Michael. They hadn't spoken a word since their little love mess. Mark seemed to understand that he was not quite fired, which was good, because Michael felt he had swallowed his tongue. There was business to be dealt with so the subject - their subject - had not presented itself.
Michael sipped again. It was 10:30. Could he just...call Mark? Right. Then what would he say? Michael looked at the phone sitting on the cushion volgende to him and pulled his feet away, eyes wide, as though it might get him. Then he sat his glass down.
"I should just be myself. Just follow my hart-, hart and be myself." Michael furrowed his brow and bit his lip. That was sure to go over pretty kookie. "Hmf." Michael stood and tightened his maroon bathrobe. Then he stretched and scratched a bit. Perhaps he just needed to let this sit for a while. He was just thinking of digging through some boxes of videos when the phone rang.
Michael quickly approached the cordless. He held his breath and read the ID log: Mark J. Deaver.
Michael whooped and punched the air nearly dropping the phone in the process. Then he meekly answered, "hello?"
"Yeah, hi Michael, it's Mark. I'm sorry to call so late, but I left some papers at the ranch that I really need." He zei all of this very fast.
"Oh...well - ." Michael didn't know what to say.
"Could I schommel, swing door and pick those up?"
"Um, yeah...yeah, sure."
"Thank you. Did u let security go already? Will u just buzz me in?"
"Yes, they leave at ten. Wait. What do u mean 'buzz u in'?"
"The...the keypad Michael - at the front door. u know, u type in the code...to open all the...gates." Mark realised that poor Michael didn't have a clue what he was talking about.
"Oh. I, umm, what code is that?"
"Michael, man I'm glad I got your ezel covered. u mean to tell me you're locked up in there - no way out of back in?" Mark was laughing at the absurdity.
"Well, I guess never thought about it. Where would I go?," he asked genuinly.
"When I scan my ID at the front gate you'll hear a tone so then u go to the keypad at the front door and stempel, punch in the code. Got it?"
"Okay."
"By the way, the code is on the sticky note in your office on the computer monitor."
"Oh, okay. I thought that was the number for take-out." They hung up. Michael was excited, yet perturbed. Mark was coming back, but not for what he had hoped for. Michael picked up his glass and padded across the creaking wood floors up to his office. "Hmf, no wonder I never get any Chinese food."
It all started when I was 7 years old. Somewhere in the maand of June of July, I got news that Michael Jackson had died. I didn't care much at that time. Life went on as usual for me. Them my dad upgraded his car and one dag gave me a lift in it. I turned on the muziek player. The first song? Thriller(the song). I fell in love with it...
Then only had I realized who Michael Jackson was. My dad still had meer songs. I listened to them all.
As soon as the player struck Little Susie, my dad would change the song. I did not know why. I downloaded Little Susie and listened. After the song was over, my eyes were waterfalls. The song was absolutely gloomy. I researched the story and finally ended up here on this site. Only Fanpop gave me a reasonable explanation for Little Susie.
I created my own account on this site, just to praise him...
He shall live in my hart-, hart forever...
Then only had I realized who Michael Jackson was. My dad still had meer songs. I listened to them all.
As soon as the player struck Little Susie, my dad would change the song. I did not know why. I downloaded Little Susie and listened. After the song was over, my eyes were waterfalls. The song was absolutely gloomy. I researched the story and finally ended up here on this site. Only Fanpop gave me a reasonable explanation for Little Susie.
I created my own account on this site, just to praise him...
He shall live in my hart-, hart forever...
Michael Joseph Jackson was an American singer, songwriter, record producer, dancer, and actor. Called the King of Pop, his contributions to muziek and dance, along with his publicized personal life, made
Michael and Quincy sat in the room, listening to the tapes that were recorded just a few hours ago. It was unclear what Quincy thought, but Michael felt the grown up and disco feel it had. " This is gonna sell." He mumbled excitedly. Quincy nodded in agreement before standing up. " hallo Mike, I gotta go, my wife Peggy is waiting for me. And so is her garnaal, garnalen gumbo. See ya later Funky." He left.
Now I was alone, with nobody to be found. So, I packed up everything and left. Mother was probably get worried, so I called my driver to get me home, since my car was in the koop getting repainted.
Now I was alone, with nobody to be found. So, I packed up everything and left. Mother was probably get worried, so I called my driver to get me home, since my car was in the koop getting repainted.