Pt 1. Well-versed in etqiuette

I first met Freddie Mercury when I was very young, not even in junior high. The album "A Night at the Opera" had just come out and I listened to it over and over, entranced by Queen's over-the- Top, multi-layered productions. When I saw they were coming to Philly I begged my parents for weeks to let me go, scrupulously saving my dollar-a-week allowance and whatever I could nick out of my mom's purse. Finally they agreed to let me go with an older cousin and her boyfriend. This was my first concert and my cousin wondered what would happen if she got "Little Richie" high. I choked down a couple hits of some sinsemilla and nearly instantly fell into a stupor(neither stoned nor straight, just giddy and stupid). Next thing I knew, some big guy had pulled me out of the crowd and was walking me backstage, telling me I was "gonna meet Freddie." I couldn't really walk at that point, my whole body went slack, and the guy dragged me into a small, stinky room where there were a couple of other boys my age. They were both smoking cigarettes and drinking beer out of cans. One of em tossed me a can.

"Drink up, dude." he said. He had very high cheekbones, short blonde hair and skinny, pale, pelican legs.

I drank up, maybe two warm beers in all. "Is there a bathroom around here," I said to the other boy, a dark-haired kid, cool in a leather jacket. He just looked at the blonde and they both laughed.

After the show, back in their hotel room, I was to discover exactly what Freddie meant when he sang, "...dynamite with a laser beam..."

Good night, sweet prince.
You are missed.
Freddie gave my parents a lot of money and I flew back to England with him and the band. Freddie maintained two houses, one in the West End and another(a castle, really) up in the Sussex countryside. I was placed in charge of *this* house. This made a lot of the older boys who lived there angry, but there was no arguing with Freddie on this. I redecorated everything in a sort of Roman Empire in decline motif while the band was on tour in Asia. The other boys said Freddie was gonna kill me when he got back, or pawn me off to Mick or David or (gag) Iggy. But he didn't. In fact, he was thrilled. Especially by the sight of all us boys in our white cotton tunics (*mine* had gold fringe, as befit my status). Plans were made for a feast.

I remember that they were working on their "News of the World" album.

"Freddie," I said, "What's gonna be the first single, 'We will rock you'?"

"Oh yeah."

"Thought so. Well, I've got an idea."

Brian May tousled my hair playfully. "Oooh, the kid's got an idea."

"Leave him be," admonished Freddie. Brian, bitter at the rebuke, started picking out the bass line to 'Another one bites the dust.' "What's the idea, kid?"

"Well, it's silly, really. I was just thinking that when you sing, in 'We will rock you' that line 'Somebody better put you back into your place', that half the time it would be cool to say, 'Somebody better push a bag into your face'."

Brian May dissolved into giggles.

"No, Bri. I know what you're thinking, but that's a great idea. I like the ambiguity. No one will ever know what the fuck we're really saying. Excellent. This calls for...a feast!."

Brian left. I had my sergeant-at-arms give Freddie a high colonic and I went downstairs to check on my baklava.