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7/2/2025, 7:04:42 PM
>The musicians discussed everything from music to the paranormal, their discussion punctuated by bouts of awkward silence. Bowie, nevertheless, seized his opportunity and questioned Page about his extreme aura. He poked and prodded as he swept up lines of cocaine, relentlessly inquiring about Page’s knowledge of the occult. Page, however, was only too aware of Bowie’s attempts to pick his brain, and a magician never reveals his secrets. Page would simply smile blankly at Bowie’s unending questions, refusing to entertain these silly prompts — or, perhaps, refusing to divulge his secrets.
>With every polite smile and moment of silence, Bowie grew more unnerved. His paranoia paired with Page’s enigmatic silence led him to believe that Page was truly evil, perhaps he was even casting a spell at that very moment. Bowie eventually left the room for a minute, leaving Page to his own devices. In the short time that Bowie was gone, Page, brain-addled by coke and alcohol, spilled his glass of red wine all over a satin cushion, infuriating Bowie. Bowie had assumed it was Ava Cherry who had knocked over the glass and began to berate her, scolding her for her tactless behavior. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Page, holding back a laugh. This was the last straw for Bowie, it was one thing to not answer his questions, but to make him appear to be an idiot was entirely another. He felt duped and enraged. “I’d like you to leave,” he said. Page simply smiled once more and continued to sit in silence. Bowie snapped his finger toward the open window. “Why don’t you leave by the window?” he hissed, half expecting to see Page transform into a bat and fly out into the night. Page, unruffled, stood quietly and slipped out the front door, shutting it behind him with a forceful slam. Bowie was left terrified. He immediately ordered the home to be exorcized, believing it to be infested with satanic demons summoned from hell by Crowley’s disciple.
>With every polite smile and moment of silence, Bowie grew more unnerved. His paranoia paired with Page’s enigmatic silence led him to believe that Page was truly evil, perhaps he was even casting a spell at that very moment. Bowie eventually left the room for a minute, leaving Page to his own devices. In the short time that Bowie was gone, Page, brain-addled by coke and alcohol, spilled his glass of red wine all over a satin cushion, infuriating Bowie. Bowie had assumed it was Ava Cherry who had knocked over the glass and began to berate her, scolding her for her tactless behavior. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Page, holding back a laugh. This was the last straw for Bowie, it was one thing to not answer his questions, but to make him appear to be an idiot was entirely another. He felt duped and enraged. “I’d like you to leave,” he said. Page simply smiled once more and continued to sit in silence. Bowie snapped his finger toward the open window. “Why don’t you leave by the window?” he hissed, half expecting to see Page transform into a bat and fly out into the night. Page, unruffled, stood quietly and slipped out the front door, shutting it behind him with a forceful slam. Bowie was left terrified. He immediately ordered the home to be exorcized, believing it to be infested with satanic demons summoned from hell by Crowley’s disciple.
7/1/2025, 8:22:10 PM
Talentless hack or the best to ever do it?
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