nsync in black and white

Fiction by Pen . . . . . not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment

The Song of Chris Kirkpatrick

With no apologies to H W Longfellow, who brought it on himself, frankly.
There is a recording of this... here.

Long ago, but not forgotten,
in the days of pop and sparkle
in the days of mesh and glitter
In the days that are behind us,
lived the mighty Chris Kirkpatrick.
Swift of wit and quick to laughter,
Hyperactive, fond of sugar,
All these things was Chris Kirkpatrick,
Sticky, tricky Chris Kirkpatrick.
Dark was he and small of stature
and his hair was spiked and braided
and his beard horned like a satyr
And his eyes were bright and winsome.
Poor was he, with great ambition,
Meant to rise to fame and riches
Through the gifts of dance and singing.

Four good friends had Chris Kirkpatrick,
singled out from countless others,
four good friends who traveled with him
on gigantic silver buses
Traveled over states and counties
Traveled north and south and westward
On their mighty silver buses.
Dressed in leathers, feathers, glitter,
Danced and sang for screaming teenies,
Sold them records, sold them lipgloss.
Sold them dreams of dance and sparkle.

First was Justin, tall and shapely,
and his eyes were blue and shiny
and his hair was bright and curly
and his lips were soft and pouty
and his hips were sleek and slinky
And his songs beguiled the girlies
and his dancing lured the ladies.
Next was Joey, large and friendly,
Broad and bearded, tall and solid,
He the bedroom-eyed seducer,
Swift collector of loose women,
Easily with hugs and laughter.
Then came Lance, the bass, the fishy,
Deep of voice and full of secrets,
Knowing everybody's business,
Always talking on his cellphone,
Always typing on his laptop.
Last and best JC Chasez was ,
He the sweetest of all singers.
Beautiful and childlike was he,
Eyes the blue of seas in winter,
Smile as bright as summer sunshine,
Pliant as a wand of willow,
Sleepy as a bradypus is,
And a manic, whirling dancer.
These the friends of Chris Kirkpatrick,
These the chosen, these the dearest,
Shapely, curly, slinky Justin,
Broad and bearded, friendly Joey,
Lance the bass, the man of business,
Sweet and sleepy, shiny JC.
All beloved by Chris Kirkpatrick,
Dear companions for his travels.

Stalwart were the five companions
In the face of near disaster
Fought the evil grasping clutches
of the man who bought and sold them
Greedy, grody Louis Pearlman.
Fought with valor and persistence
And a raft of crafty lawyers,
And a judge's little daughter,
Vanquished greedy Louis Pearlman.
So they traveled on their buses
Traveled north and south and westward
On their mighty silver buses.
Bringing music to the teenies.
Dancing in their jeans and sequins,
Singing songs of love and longing,
To the screaming, teeming teenies.

Came the fateful day when JC,
Sleepy, shiny, sweetly JC
Brought a song to Chris Kirkpatrick,
Brought a song that he had written,
Written for the latest album,
Song of joy and hope and future,
All about the human spirit.
Chris Kirkpatrick, quite bewildered,
Read the song JC had written,
Read the music, read the lyrics,
Forwards, upside-down and sideways,
Read the chorus, wi-yi-yippee,
Wondered what JC was smoking.
Big eyed, blue eyed, eager JC,
Showed his song to all the others,
Sang aloud for them to listen,
Sang the chorus, wi-yi-yippee,
Sang the song of space and cowboys.
Then they looked at one another,
All bewildered, all astonished,
Wondered what JC was smoking.

Sticky, tricky Chris Kirkpatrick
heard the silence of the others
saw JC begin to falter,
JC's smile of sunshine falter,
leaped to rescue his beloved,
to restore that sunny smiling,
and to praise the song of cowboys.
Then a mighty, flighty vision
Came to tricky Chris Kirkpatrick,
And he conjured up the vision
for his mystified companions,
Spoke of setting, spoke of stageing,
Spoke of flight and height and harness,
Spoke of chaps alight with glitter,
Spoke of giant sparkly space bulls,
Mechanized and bright and bucking,
And their eyes with scarlet blazing
To enhance the song of cowboys.
And his friends embraced the vision,
Hailed the plan of giant space bulls
Hailed the sparkly chaps of glitter
Hailed the song of space and cowboys
(All about the human spirit)
All determined to record it.

JC Chasez, sweet and smiling,
Came that night to Chris Kirkpatrick,
Blessed him for his wondrous vision,
Thanked him for his faith and wisdom,
Told him that the song was written
For the love of Chris Kirkpatrick,
Spiky, winsome Chris Kirkpatrick,
Who inspired the joy and fervor
And the talk of heavenly bodies
And the wish to take a space ride.
Thus did JC, sweet and smiling,
Pliant as a wand of willow,
Flexible and deft and bendy,
Spend the night with Chris Kirkpatrick,
Woke him in the morning singing.

Thus it was that Chris Kirkpatrick
Sticky, tricky Chris Kirkpatrick
Saved the song of JC Chasez
Saved the song of space and cowboys,
Brought it to the teeming teenies,
Brought it forth with giant space bulls,
Bucking, shiny, made of awesome,
Nevermore to be forgotten.



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