Written by May Bea Sunshine.
After receiving an invitation from the prince of darkness himself, Jasper Black, requesting my attendance at his birthday, dear readers, despite my initial disgust at the deplorable activities that go on in House Black in the darkness of a Thursday Night, I ventured forth once more. A fitting theme for the boy who never grew up, Neverland, saw the walls decked in pirate treasures, and all the guests dressed appropriately. Despite Betty, Bethany and Aunty Peachey’s sneers at my lack of fancy dress, I felt it inappropriate for a professional sent to observe and remain impartial to dress in any sort of fashion that illicits a reaction from onlookers.
Opening the night’s festivities was my first introduction to Betty Black, who performed a psychotic doll dance, complete with spastic time signature shifts within her soundtrack. She adorned her body in Kransky sausages inside condoms, and slapped herself with raw steaks. (In an aside: I can’t make this up, my dear readers, as journalists we write what we see. We are not known for terribly creative imaginations.)
Beginning his birthnight in a jovial, if not the usual aggressively postured manner, Jasper seemed in good spirits as he sank bourbon and taunted his guests:
“I would come down there and fuck-start your face, but I generally like my women younger and more attractive…”
However, on the topic of all things non-consensual, Jasper had an announcement to make- Mr Nick is to be seemingly raped into matrimony by The Black Family for impregnating Bethany Black with twins. Almost as soon as the glasses clinked in congratulations, Jasper’s mood seemed to darken quickly. Why on earth would a loving family member have a sudden mood swing at the announcement of twins and a marriage? Could the rumours about Jasper and his “niece” be true? Was the mood swing set off by jealousy and despair at the loss of Bethany to another man?
He seemed outraged at the presentation of a birthday cake, sullenly picking at it while his new bride swanned about in an ethereal frothy white negligee, and not much else. She procured little orange vials and fed him pills which he washed down with more bourbon. His mood plummeted as the night wore on, and while outside clearing my head, I overheard a snippet of conversation from the other side of the balcony:
“Everyone leaves me. Red left me. I asked you to marry me and you turned me down. I asked Dexter to marry me in Vegas. Now she’s gone to another man.”
Betty Black’s husky drunken voice hushed him as I rounded the corner. This was not the same Jasper I knew- charismatic, cocky and intriguing, swearing poisonous abuse at his guests with a grin in such a way that they can’t help but feel weak at the knees. This, my darling readers, was an entirely different person. Still the same jet black hair, the same piercing blue eyes, but every fibre of his being aside from his physical appearance had changed. His posture, hunched. His eyes, vacant and bare. The words that came from his mouth were uttered by a different voice, a different soul. This was one of Jasper’s alternate identities.
I didn’t believe it entirely at first, as with any celebrity family there is a fantastic amount of hearsay, gossip and rumours, but I have managed to secure several confidential medical documents revealing Jasper’s many psychiatric problems, the most prevalent being dissociative identity disorder. A truly remarkable spectacle, a sullen teenage boy sitting in the body of a man on his 31st birthday.
One wonders how many more Jasper Blacks there are. Are they aware of each other? Do they interact with each other? Does each family member see a different Jasper? Was Bella deliberately drugging him into psychosis to control him? Or are these separate personality merely the self-indulgent manifestations of a brilliant yet broken billionaire?
All characters and story lines remain the property of N.Ristovski and the Underground. All character writings within the Underground are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013. Natalie Ristovski.