Follow me in a journey to the world of classical rock. You'll lost the meaning of your existence here (if you still have tho) and discover nonsencial stories about your favourite band and musicians...
...who am I kidding, all of this shit will be...
A/N: Welcome everyone to badgers farm! Thanks hannahmfoley01 for making Badgers Farm real and employing all of us. ☆
Before we'll get down to the business, I've been tagged by BohemianBeatle and twiggs3075 so thank u for that! and let's do dis shit:
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1. My hair looks like "a Beatle went emo" and it's not even my quote.
2. I've got more OCs than chances to find a proper job in a future life.
3. I'm a newbie in classic rock fandom so be nice and don't scare me off, twats. Jkjk, there's so possible way to scare me off from dis fandom <3
4. I'm the same height as Ringo Starr. U can say I'm tall but on the other hand Ringo is the small one ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
5. I'm probably thinking about Starrison right now.
I'll tag @ Everyone who sees this bc I'm a lazy onion and don't wanna pick someone
Okayokay, without any further ado...
--
Once upon a time there was Brian May, famous rich owner of the biggest Badgers Farm in the whole England or maybe even the whole world. Oh, and a "Queen" band guitarist, but that's not important.
Brian was sitting on a rocking chair on his farm, playing the badgers on a guitar some calming song he wrote them. In the lights of a sunset, prelude to the dawn, watching as the day slowly faded and clouds turned red. One of his pets was sitting on his knees. Cute. Everything was so silent, full of harmony and-
BOOM.
Jealous Roger Taylor broke through the farm's wall, hurting and killing many of the badgers. The rest of them ran away in a panic. Brian nearly died on a heart attack.
Congratulations, Roggie.
When the smoke cleared, very self-satisfied drummer got out of the car, smiling, commenting all of this: "Damn. I've scratched the bodywork."
There was a silence. Tumbleweeds in the background. Brian was contemplating: a) beating Roggie to death with his own Red Special - but it would be a waste of Red Special, b) smashing Taylor's head at the wall - but it would be a waste of the wall (Roger Waters would also tell you this), c) killing himself - but it would be a waste of Brian May.
"..."
"What."
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY LOVELY BADGERS, YOU BLOODY IDIOT?!"
Suddenly wild Freddie Mercury appeared, speaking words of wisdom: "Pfft, cats are better anyway."
But everyone ignored him, so Freddie went away.
"You know..." started Taylor, looking absolutely innocent despite the fact the he has just destroyed everything that mattered to Bri. "You hadn't got much time for me recently. Always those badgers and badgers. And what about me? So I got jealous a bit... just a litt, tiny bit jealous... and I decided to visit you. So, umm, hi."
The inner murderer born in Brian. Okay, shit was about to get real.
"MY FARM IS DESTROYED. MY BADGERS ARE GONE. I'M GONNA KILL YOU... but first you'll help me catch them again."
"Okay, okay, don't get your knickers in a twist," sassy Roggie rolled his eyes, being girlfrie- I mean boyfriend of the year.
So team Maylor went to get back all of the loves of Brian's life.
Bri was tracking them dutifully and Taylor was walking with him with a net in his hands. They saw the first badger, hiding in the bushes.
"Go for him!"
"Is it absolutely necessary?" Roggie murmured, but caught the badger politely.
One down.
The epic pursuit was still going on, until they reached the London. The whole city's life got paralyzed because Brian May and Roger Taylor were chasing badgers. Why not. Emotion, drama, y'know. Not everyday two rockstars run after the animal on the busy street.
"It's the last one," said drummer, throwing the badger to his car. His precious car, with the badgers' pack in it. A teardrop ran down the Taylor's cheek. Karma, bitch.
"No! There's still one we didn't catch! I feel him! After me!" Brian took his hand and pushed him to the car. It would be pretty romantic, but nope.
Guitarist hit the gas pedal. They were riding with a speed of light.
"You've run after Paul McCartney, you idiot!" screamed Roggie, seeing blood on his precious car.
"Screw it. They'll replace him," Brian said, not paying much attention. In his mind were only badgers. Nothing more counted.
Finally, they stopped in front of some house that looked familiar.
"We're coming in," May without any further ado came to the totally stranger house, because lol, who's gonna stop Queens. They went to the basement.
And some really fun view.
John Deacon was cuffed to the radiator, with a teacup and a plate full of toasts with cheese next to him. The bassist looked at them pleadingly.
"Oh my God!" screamed Brian and covered his mouth with his hand in shock. "The last badger!" he ran to his lovely pet, curled up in a corner. The guitarist picked him up and hugged to his chest. Animal was confused for a moment and hissed, but then recognized his owner and calmed itself. Two cute lovers. "We can go now."
"Hey, what about me?! Help me, my wife has cuffed me to the radiator and no one saw me again and I've become the world's Hide and Seek champion!" screamed Deacky.
But the guitarist has already left, because pft, screw his bandmate, he got every badger back.
Roggie smiled and patted the shoulder of his ex-lover. Yes, ex-lover. Very, very ex-lover. "We've done it!"
"We?" May turned to Taylor, his voice very quiet now. He had a face of the devil right now, and you can't blame him. "We? Yes. Of course. We."
And then he murdered Roggie. At least the drummer got the most remarkable funeral in the humanity's history and his body was buried in his precious car.
Brian May rebuit his farm, making it even bigger and better. The work of his life, his biggest pride.
And everyone lived happily ever after, especially the badgers. Oh, maybe except John, but who cares 'bout him.
