King of Pop

‘Calmness sets in, I am not afraid,’ I try to tell myself as the newscaster interrupts my Tyra Banks! The newscaster’s randomly modulating voice comes through the television… "Ahem… LIVE at the King of Pop's funeral here at the Staples Center, we are receiving shocking reports of a deranged man attempting to block the path of army tanks by standing in front of the moving machines. President Obama ordered the tanks out earlier today to stop the riots occurring when thousands of mourning fans crashed the Hollywood event, fighting their way into the memorial service".

I think to myself, 'Enough about Michael! I just want to watch Tyra try on outfits and talk about the best jeans to camouflage my extra large pear-shaped booty!' But wait, the camera zooms in on the crazed man’s face. 'Gasp… could it be… It’s Michaels brother, Jermaine Jackson! Risking his life for his brother… or is he trying to cash in on the drama somehow?' The answer to this we will find out later in his Barbara Walters interview. When she asks the question, “What were you thinking when you stood there with tanks coming at you?” In his gentle voice he will reply, “my fear threatened to cripple me, it really did, but those fans deserved to say goodbye to my beloved brother. So I knew what I had to do and as the tanks were getting closer; I hardly had to remind myself to not back down. I knew in my heart I could not give up. I would become a part of that pavement before I lost that fight. My brother is everything to me and the chaos was part of the love the fans were showing for him.”

The cameras were able to get a close up on Jermaine’s face. He was white with fear, or was that makeup? And he was saying something… He seemed to be repeating himself under his breath. I had to make it out. I studied the movement of his mouth. ‘What could he be saying?’ “And 1, stand with feet together, face directly forward with your eyes on the tank. And 2, if tank moves to the left step to the left, moves to the right, step to the right. And 3, hop on tank, grab crotch and shout hee hee!” He executes his course of action the best way he knows how, in step-by-step routines just as his father taught him from the time he could walk.

The driver, at first, attempted to go around him. I could only imagine what must have been going through his head… ‘Okay if I charge this guy with a thousand pounds of steel, he has no chance. I’ll have to maneuver this thing around him. Oh shit this crazy fucker is just going to follow me. This pile’s too slow for him. Ahhh! I can’t believe it! He’s on my tank doing Michael Jackson moves… I must be dreaming. Get this guy outta here!’

I am so involved in what I am seeing I don’t notice my little brother hurling the remote control directly at my head. My fascination quickly turns to the blood spewing from my eyebrow.