Please note that this story is not tagged “Advanced Bru readers”.

I knew it was a big mistake to go on stage again after I had stopped touring when Covid-19 struck. The last two years had been the best of my life and I had absolutely no wish to resume my stage career as Daisy Sweetheart, the soppy singer/songwriter. Especially since it was obvious that this concert would be a disaster. I hesitated before going onstage but my manager gave me a shove and I walked out there. If only I hadn’t swiped that book from my sister five years earlier.

That book, like all other “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” books should be burned or at least provided with a warning text and locked in child-safe places. Oh, no they actively peddle them to the defenceless little girls. I saw what happened to my big sister. She was 13 then and I was 11. She and her friends just went bonkers over them. They were so obnoxious that it even penetrated the world I lived in: Games. Violent computer games! The more gore and explosions the game had the better. My dream was to sort of grow up and be a famous games designer. I had my career all plotted out. What to do and what not to do.Yeah, like that was going to happen. Well, it just might have if I hadn’t “borrowed” that evil book from my sister. It really was as soppy as I had expected. I actually felt like throwing up at times. Then I had that stupid idea. I’d write a song on that theme. In the book there was a passage where the girl serenades the boy she desperately tried to regain with a composition of her own. The song was only mentioned and not rendered. I wasn’t a bad guitar player and had tried composing a song or two before without any success but this “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” thing triggered something in me. I was going to write that song I sat in my room for hours and somehow words and melody just flowed out of my quasi-molten brain. I think what I produced was even soppier than the book. Soppy squared. No one could mistake my satire for anything else.

Then I made my second mistake. I butted in on my sister and her friends and started playing and singing my song. I had expected that to open their eyes to how terrible those books were. Females are not of the same species as males. They took my song at face value. They loved it! They had me play it over and over again. Things could have stopped there if I hadn’t been unlucky. The parents of my sister’s friends came to pick them up. My bad luck was that one of them was a talent scout for a record company. He came into the room from behind me. What he saw was a small person with a longish wavy hair singing with an “angelic” voice a melody and words that he instantly recognized as connecting with “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” as well as quite catchy. Then he came around me applauding. He did see that I was a boy but the song was written from a girl’s POV and, damn it, I was PRETTY. I could be prettied up to make a lovely girl. Moneygrubbing ideas started formulating in his brain.

From that point things just snowballed. The record company was eager sign me up as pretty young romantic singer/songwriter. Especially after I was persuaded to write one more song. I excelled in writing the soppiest of soppy songs. The melody just dripped of syrup. This should put them off. My sister and her friends loved it even more than the first. What’s wrong with them?

At first my father acted as my manager but during the talks with Descartes Publications regarding the use of the name “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” there was a really sharp lawyer on their side. Those meeting were really an eye-opener. I learnt so much. And I even met the elusive author Corazón Tenderheart. My sister couldn’t believe how lucky I was. I agreed but for completely different reasons. Corazón Tenderheart was brought in at the last stage of talks when I had insisted keeping the complete rights to my songs with only a use clause with fees to Descartes Publications. My dad was willing to cede much more control as long as we could keep more money in the short run. The lawyer addressed Corazón Tenderheart as CT all the time and she called him D. Why I never understood at the time since neither his first or second name began with a D. Anyway, the way she moved and talked. The poise and self-assurance this teen-age girl had! In the end she told D to give me what I wanted. In the long run everyone would gain from it.

I was surprised that CT had so much clout. D immediate changed tack and we finished up quickly. He then told me firmly and in fatherly way that I needed a professional agent. He even went as far as finding me one. After meeting that guy I understood what a terrible mistake I had been about to make having my father as my manager. Yes, at eleven I fired my father.

Then things just snowballed as I already said. I wrote a couple of more songs. The process wasn’t pleasant. I read a couple of chapters from a “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” book. I threw up and entered another world. In that “druginduced” haze I produced the soppiest, most braindead romantic drivel ever. Did I say syrupy? Treacle was more accurate.

We cut my first album. It hit the top lists. I went on stage. I’m still embarrassed when thinking back to the “cute” outfits I wore. I went on talk-shows, even cuter outfits. After a while even the really big shows. I shudder when thinking about the outfits. My concerts started in not that big venues but soon my manager cancelled those because bigger ones were needed. The arenas were packed with little girls and their parents. Sad to say I saw a fair amount of teenage boys there as well. Sad!

Have you any idea the sound 10 000 young girls (and some boys) can make when they scream without inhibitions? After a while I never went on stage without ear plugs.

Of course I couldn’t live with my family any longer. Any connection with the plain old boy Michael Johnson couldn’t be allowed for the big star Daisy Sweetheart. Well, I did meet my family quite often for a while and my sister was always happy to get a couple tickets for my concerts. I think she was starstruck by the star Daisy Sweetheart. Her brother? Who? Why should I bother? I also felt more and more estranged from my parents. They vehemently denied it by I started suspecting that they loved my money more than me.

Actually, with all the touring, recording, songwriting (I was regularly force-fed advance copies of any of CT’s books) and all the associated activities I didn’t really have any spare time for a family life. Then I grew older and my parents started getting worried that I’d hit puberty. In secret they started me having blockers. When I found out about that I blew up. We managed to keep things out of media but I divorced my parents. I had fired my father at 11, at 14 I divorced him and my mother.

It was all kept quiet because I was prepared to buy them off. Strict non-disclosure clause of course, D, the lawyer, helped me enormously. Going through that process I more and more relied on him. In the end I asked him to be my guardian. I had learned all about his connection with Corazón Tenderheart by then and how scrupulously strictly he had dealt with her in business and the affection father and son shared outside of business. D refused to be my guardian. I talked with CT and together we had another go at him. He still refused to be my guardian but he finally agreed to adopt me.

That’s when Covid-19 struck. To my great relief I didn’t have to go on stage any longer. I could even duck TV-appearances. I was supposedly extremely anxious about catching the disease. I could hang up all those frilly dresses in my oversized closet. I could live as a boy again. I still wrote and recorded. I had a weird puberty. As things turned out my parents’ fear that my voice would break never came true. But now I had time to do other things as well. I came back to my first love; games! I got involved in the development of a couple of them. Primarily as an investor. However, I did take part in the development of two of them. One was the kind I loved. I was soon politely phased out from the actual development. The other, I’m really embarrassed to confess how much my input was appreciated. Yeah, you guessed it. It was a game based on the soppiest, most braindead romantic drivel ever published. I had been approached because it was known I liked games as well as having a connection with Descartes Publications and CT. That game was a huge hit in the early Covid-19 lock-downs.

That was also the first game in my “stable” of games. I realized that actual development wasn’t for me. Either I wasn’t the right person or it was too embarrassing. However, my new company acquired a stable of games that the company financed and managed distribution, marketing and so on leaving the development and a fair share of the money to those gifted developers. So what if they all were girly games? I still was in the games business as I had always wanted and as things turned out it was quite profitable. It seems I had a good feeling for the right games to bet on.

Those two years were great. I felt like a person again. Inevitably the good times had to end. The pandemic was not beaten but tamed somewhat. Live events got going again. The pressure started to mount that even “careful” Daisy Sweetheart should meet her fans again. I resisted. I refused. The pressure mounted. I suggested that it was time for Daisy Sweetheart to just quietly fade away. No sign that anybody listened to me. To my, small, surprise my manager was one of those pressuring me To my great surprise he was supported by D and CT. Finally I gave in despite knowing what a disaster the concert would be. And that’s why I was walking onto the stage on that huge and filled to capacity arena.

At first nobody noticed me. The noise level from the eager young girls (and some boys) was constant. Not even when I got up on the stool and got my guitar in position no one bothered about me. They thought I was a pre-act that they weren’t interested in. They were there to see Daisy Sweetheart. Then I started singing.

I told you I had had a weird puberty. My voice had remained the same sweet angelic voice that had captivated my fans for years. My body was another matter. When the audience heard the voice they were infatuated with and associated with the petite and pretty in the girl-next-door way girl coming from that 6’8”, 200 pound (all muscles, I like to work out) hulk they were chocked. And I had donned my best tailor-made suit and all! I especially liked the lose tie. For some moments there was a complete silence, apart from me singing the best song I had ever written. Then all hell broke out. Protest, jeers and attempts to storm the stage. My manager had foreseen that and had arranged for extra security. After ending my first song the speaker system managed to cut through the din. Everyone was offered money back and our excuses. Anyone who wanted to could stay for the entire concert that would continue once everything had settled. Most people left. There were only about 500 who stayed.

I was wrong. That concert was the best concert I ever gave. The connection with those remaining was incredible. They were there for my music, Not the Daisy Sweetheart hype. Everyone had good seats once most people had left. I have never performed better and the new music I had for them was really good, even I had to admit. I will always remember that concert with special fondness.

I was wrong in another way as well. Oh, there was a big scandal. Media had a field day. My entire history was finally dug up. Then all that faded. Sort of. That last concert soon became legendary. The weirdness of it all came to the forefront. My popularity slowly started to soar again. Compilations hit the top lists once more. Three years after that concert my company made a search of social media. The result was that they found 167 834 people who claimed that they had been among the 500 who had stayed. The new album I released then went straight to number one on all relevant lists. My manager, D and CT knew better than I did.

I still write new music sometimes. I still give concerts occasionally. Never more than 500 in the audience though. Applicants have to write in advance and submit to a weeding out process. Strictly personal tickets. I do things strictly on my terms now. I don’t need the money. I make disgustingly much on my games business. Still, I haven’t been able to cure that addiction I developed when I read that first “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” book. I still maintain that those books are a public hazard and should be classed as a Class A drug. My loving father (v 2.0) couldn’t agree more.