
“It can all be yours—money, fame, drugs, warts,” he says, gesturingmagnanimously at a weary dancer’s gummi crotch while Sammy Hagar sings, “…hot, sweet and sticky!” Later that night, when the little rocker’s head hits the pillow, he’ll dream of being on top of Rock Mountain with Princess Frostine, enjoying her chocolate swamp.Oh, to be a kid again. Life was sweeter then. You know, when rock ‘n’ roll dreams ended like that instead of in the horrifying reality—it’s not Frostine who’s gonna take it in a dank, dark place, it’s you.But it’s fun for a while, being the gingerbread pawn hopping from colored space to colored space toward Nose Candy Castle. You even rationalize the ups and downs, how getting stuck in Gooey Gumdrops is gonna happen more often than riding the Rainbow Trail but, if you keep drawing cards, you’ll get to the top. Eventually.Alas, Lord Licorice and his whorehounds wait around every candy cane corner. “King Nose Kandy is from an older version of the game,” he says. “He cares only about album sales. If you sign a 360-deal with me I’ll be with you every step of the way. Sure, I’ll get a taste at every stop, but didn’t your parents teach you to share and play fair?”So you sign with one or the other and you enjoy the ride. You’re putting up big numbers on Billboard and iTunes and rave reviews from hipster blogs and dad-rockin’ magazines shower down on you like rainbow sprinkles. You teach Princess Frostine a thing or two about buttercream and do bongers with Gloppy and Mr. Mint during a package tour. King Nose Kandy continues to sniff around, trying to figure out how to get a piece of you. You dump Frostine (the tone-deaf bitch wanted to bark in your band) for Princess Lolly and entertain thoughts of settling down.
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