AK Anvil (standard:horror, 1392 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Nov 25 2004	Views/Reads: 3903/2333	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
What happens when an obsessed fan gets to meet his idol?

Michael noticed yet another change in Anthony's behaviour. They were
subtle changes. Not enough for people to notice, other than family and 
friends, basically those who knew him, and were around him often. 
Michael was his older brother, older by eleven years, Anthony being 
fourteen. The age where they cannot be given advice, because they knew 
it already. Michael kept a watchful eye over him, mostly for their 
mother's sake, as their father had absconded abroad after the police 
had picked up the scent of his involvement in illegal cigarettes. In a 
way, Michael thought of himself as a kind of father figure to him, 
although Anthony would never admit to that. When they were that age, 
they liked to think of themselves as mature, even adult. The age where 
they were too big for toys, and too young to indulge in adult 
pleasures. They often looked up to adults who displayed the types of 
behaviour they were familiar with, the ‘screw the system', anti-social 
type of person who appealed to both adults and youth. One such person, 
AK Anvil, real name, Boris Princeton, was somebody liked and respected 
by Anthony. He was a singer, in the lightest meaning of the word. To 
adults who could see through him, he was just a talentless shouter. He 
would strut about on stage, shouting illegible words into a microphone 
and passing it off as music. Of course, teenagers loved him, especially 
Anthony, who had joined his fan club. Occasionally, through the post, 
along with loyalty certificates and posters, there would be an invite 
to a get together of AK Anvil's fans. Michael thought it odd that there 
was one every month. Off Anthony would go to a different destination 
every time to discuss his idol and listen to his music with other fans. 
Today he was particularly pleased because Anvil was touring, and coming 
to town on the weekend. So the club had organised another get together, 
and had invited the man himself, who accepted their invitation to go to 
the hotel where the meeting was to take place. So it was obvious that 
Anthony was going. There was no way he was going to miss the 
opportunity to meet the man in the flesh and actually talk to him. 
After each fan club meeting, Michael had noticed Anthony came back a 
little more distant, brooding more than a typical teenager which 
Michael attributed solely to his obsession with AK Anvil. His room had 
two small patches of wallpaper, the rest of it covered mostly with 
Anvil posters. He wondered just what type of people he was mixing with 
when he went to these meetings. What sort of influence where they 
having over him? They reminded him of a cult, where new members became 
embroiled in their ways and mannerisms as they grew to accept and 
believe what had been preached to them, and altered their behaviour 
accordingly. 

As the time grew closer to when Anvil came to town, Anthony was becoming
visibly nervous, or jittery, rather like the approaching day of an 
exam, or the long walk to the boss's office when he was in a bad mood 
to ask for time off, or a raise. When the day did come, Anthony was 
surprisingly relaxed. Michael wondered just what sort of effect seeing 
him in person would have on him. Would he come back completely changed? 
For better or worse? Or would it be a case of being a huge anti-climax 
when he met him. Would his on screen and stage persona reflect what he 
was like in real-life? Would he be whacky and crazy as he would have 
all his fans believe? Perhaps he would, when in the hotel amongst the 
members of the fan club, but when he was alone in his room, he would 
probably return to being Boris Princeton, who enjoys country and 
western and old romantic black and white films. 

Anthony left early to meet up with the other members of the fan club,
and everything went as expected. Anvil performed on stage, with Anthony 
as close as an audience member could get, loving every minute of it, 
and when it had finished, he walked, along with the other fan club 
members, the hundred yards to the hotel where Anvil was staying, 
showing their special passes to the security guard who had to turn away 
non members. They waited approximately two hours in the hotel lounge 
before Anvil walked in, all of them dumbstruck with awe. They had 
arranged the seats in a makeshift circle. There was approximately forty 
altogether, and one in the middle for Anvil. When he sat down, he 
looked around at all the expectant faces and said: “Who's first then?”. 


When Anthony returned home at around half twelve, Michael was in front
of the stove, cooking scrambled egg. When he turned around and saw 
Anthony standing there, holding forth a plastic bag with an 
indiscernible item inside, he realised his obsession had gone too far. 
Anthony simply didn't look right. He looked as though he was in a state 
of trance, or under hypnosis. “Look,” he said, “I got a souvenir from 


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