Gudetama lounged in a VIP room above the Dance floor of the club. At least he was out in public, so his manager should be pleased.
"Gudi, meet Kiki, one of your most ardent fans!" gushed his manager, escorting a slim young thing in platform go-go boots and long, pink pigtails. Gudi knew "ardent" meant "willing to bribe" and he looked at her, bored. He allowed a half-smile to crease his yolk. He could see she was stifling a squeal of delight just to be in his presence. Celebrity didn't come naturally to him. The fans bugged him. Giddily squealing girls bugged him most of all.
"Uh, Gude- Gudetama, sir? Uh, could you, um, please...?" His manager handed him a pen to sign the girl's notebook.
After she left, his manager tried again. "Gudi, your fans would be thrilled if you'd just dance for one song. Just one?"
"Leave me alone."
Giving up for the moment, the manager ordered more drinks. A drunk Gudi might be extra-depressed, but he was also more acquiescent.
A few Bloody Marys later and he was able to escort Gudi down to the Dance floor. Not without a fight, but he managed it.
The wildly famous and popular egg was jiggling all over among happy dancers. His manager knew he'd overdone it on the booze, but at least the fans were happy. It was important to keep the fans happy. True to his word, when the song ended, the manager went back onto the Dance floor to retrieve Gudetama. Too much dancing and he'd lose his status as the symbol for rampant Depression throughout Asia.
He got over to Gudi and propped him up as he urged him through the crowd. "I'm fried," whispered Gudetama loudly as he allowed his manager to maneuver him to the doors."You did good, Gudi," groaned his manager, struggling under the gelatinous blob. An egg was surprisingly hard to handle when he didn't give any help at all.
"The fans are happy," he added as they stepped out into the cold night and crossed the sidewalk to the waiting limo. Gudi was reaching to sign autographs, but after one sloppy interaction, his manager pushed him into the back seat, following him in to pull the door tight shut. "Happy fans means you have a bright future."
It was the wrong thing to say. Gudetama wasn't created for bright futures or positivity of any kind.
"The future? Ugh... I can't even..." and with that, he passed out in the back seat of the limo, trusting his manager to get him home and to bed."I know, Gudi, I know." Another day dealing with depression had ended.
Thanks for visiting my #AtoZChallenge! All month I'll be writing flash fiction, with the theme "Audience Participation".
My "At the Dance Club" story came from the prompt "The Egg" provided by TWW of The Road to Being a Published Writer, in a comment left on my C post, here.
it's your turn, lovely audience member. Do you have a writing prompt to
suggest? Don't worry about choosing a letter of the alphabet, just
leave me a word, a thought, a place, a concept... anything! and I'll add
it to the list.