Even though Michael Jackson is a solo artist, in this story, he would have a band. This story is based on true events that happened to the King of Pop in the 1980's. Now that he is dead, maybe this story would make him rest in peace. The Lyrics are in bold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was 1982. To the 21st century, the 80's would have been the now dead disco era, but this adventure takes place with R&B. The black haired man walking in the alley was thinking about his record titled Thriller. He and his producer, Quincy Jones, listened to all the songs and all of it sounded like garbage. They needed a song like no other. Something extraordinary, something that only Michael can create.
As you would already know, Michael had such rabid fangirls it makes the Jonas Brothers fangirls seem harmless. Michael had recieved letters. One made him tremble. As he read the letter, Michael was first not suprised. He had many letters like the one he was reading. But the words used were clearly obessive and posessive. The letter sums up that a teenaged girl states that Michael is the father of her child. He did not know the girl, so he ignored the letters from the same girl. He would constantly wake up from horrible nightmares.
"Please stop IT!" He pleaded loudly one night. He knew that he would have to send his bodyguards to stop that girl from coming near him. He loved his fans and their support, but this was too scary. Before he went back to sleep, he sang to himself about the girl.
She was more like a beauty queen
From a movie scene
I said, 'don't mind
But what do you mean
I am the one
Who will dance on the floor, in the round'
She said, 'I am the one who will dance
On the floor in the round'
Days passed. The girl was desperate to have Michael be her husband. One day, Michael was humming that tune from before when a mailman delivered a brown box. Michael opened the box to find one last letter from his scary fangirl. Also there was a picture of a short, orange haired african woman with a black haired african baby boy in her arms. The last thing in the box was a revolver gun loaded with a single bullet. Michael could feel the woman's tears on the paper as he read.
Dear Michael,
Why? Why can't you see that we were meant to be?! What is this going to be for our child? I love you, dad gone it! Why do you cause me pain? Is it because I'm crazy? I am crazy, Crazy in love with you!!! I was hoping you would be a nice guy, that you would accept me to be here with you. I can play the drums pretty good... FINE! If I can't have you, no one can! At exactly 12 midnight when the moon is full, you shoot yourself in the heart. I will do so with myself and the baby at that same time. That way, we can be a family in heaven. Goodbye forever!
Love,
Your Lover
The Gloved One looked at the gun, then at the picture. He felt guilt in his heart to let this happen. Thank god that he didn't kill himself. He put the picture in a frame and put away the gun. Just then, his mother, Katherine, looked at the picture.
"Michael, who's this?" She asked. Michael didn't know the name of the girl, so he thought up one.
"Her name's Billie Jean and she caused up a scene in this letter." He showed the letter to her. Katherine looked at the letter and sighed.
"How many times do I have to tell you 'Be careful who you love'? Is this girl's kid really your son?" Michael stared at Katherine.
"How could you say that, Mother? Billie Jean is not my lover. She's just a girl who claims I'm the one. But the kid's not my son... You know I am shy about sex... It's not part of my religion." Michael kissed his mother and, using a wired telephone, dialed "Billie Jean's" number on the back of the picture.
She told me her name was Billie Jean
As she caused a scene
Then every head turned with eyes
That dreamed of being the one
Who will dance on the floor, in the round
People always told me,
'Be careful of what you do
And don't go around
Breaking young girls' hearts'
And mother always told me,
'Be careful who you love
Be careful what you do
'Cause the lie becomes the truth'
Billie Jean is not my lover
She's just a girl who claims that
I am the one
But the kid is not my son
She says I am the one
But the kid is not my son