The GAM Awards 2040

thethemeis: Lifetime Achievement

theauthoris: LiamD

'And now it's time for a very special presentation,' the man in the sparkling red blazer flashed his cheesy grin toward the camera lens. George thought he could have easily been mistaken for an entertainment manager at Butlins, some sort of red-coat royalty. 

'This years GAM award for lifetime achievement goes to a man who's unique take on punk rock in the early two-twentys brought the genre back into alternative popularity and changed the way many people thought about music as a whole.'

The star-studded audience must have been aware of the camera flitting around the hall; each face was set in a feigned smile of appreciation for their gracious host.

'Here to present the award is the president of the Global Academy for Music, Sir Russell Jones!'

There was a thin round of applause as a bespectacled, blue-suited gentleman took to the stage. Russell never had been popular, although looking at him now it became apparent to George that he had aged well since their last meeting, all those years ago. 

'Before the presentation I would just like to thank all of you for supporting the academy over the past decade since we were founded. Tonight has been a true milestone for our organisation and we would never have made it this far without your continued generosity.' That was always Russell's problem thought George; he could never be sincere without sounding like a politician.

'So without any further ado it is an honor and a privilege for me to present the GAM award for lifetime achievement to Mr. Simon Stark!'

Amidst the standing ovation George saw faces of surprise and jealousy, no doubt paid by the press for a juicy headline to pull in the cyber-punters. George wondered how much Simon had changed since they had last played together. Wondered if the alcohol had fattened him up yet, or if the social smoking had kept him skinny. He was entirely unprepared for the man he saw approaching the stage.

In the years that George remembered him, Simon had had long, sleek, blonde hair, waxed to look both smart yet unruly. Now he was nearly bald, his remaining strands wispy and grey, that of a ninety year old man. His face, that used to be youthful and so boyish, was now gaunt and tired. George remembered the days they would badly attempt parkour around the city, when it was all the rage. How Simon had always been able to smoothly perform a back-flip where George could never quite perfect the landing. The man descending the brightly lit stairs toward the podium couldn't take two steps without clinging to the rail. As he was slowly escorted to the front of the stage to accept the award, George couldn't help but notice a large stain around the groin area of Simon's trousers, and tried not to imagine the cause.

'I-I'd just... ...like t-... ...to say...' He quivered as he spoke, each sentence seeming to take an eternity. '...a b-big... ...thank you... ...to all wh-wh-who... ...have b-been... ...so s-supportive s-s-since...' at this point he trailed off, apparently unable to finish the trail of thought.

After a brief  silence, the host gathered that the usual lengthy acceptance speech wasn't coming 'How about th-...' he began, but was immediately interrupted.

'F-F-FUCK THE... ...SYSTEM!' the old man who should be young groaned into his microphone before he was hurriedly escorted from the stage, apparently in pain.

The host was laughing 'Simon Stark there, crazy as ever! We do apologise for any strong language in this broadcast of the GAM awards, they of course in no way reflect the thoughts and ideaologies of our organisation, let's now take a look at Simon's life in this short bio-' the ceremony and its attendees disappeared promptly as George switched off the RT set.

He couldn't believe what had become of the man he'd once called a close friend. Memories had swam into George's brain while he watched Simon embarrass himself in front of the world, memories from years he had long forgotten. He remembered intensely arguing with Simon and Russell about the direction of the band and their increasingly erratic lifestyle. He remembered all of the coke they snorted as it were one of their five a day and his worries that it would one day catch up with them. He remembered most vividly of all falling deeply in love with his future wife Sandra, the delivery of their twins that remained the proudest moment of his life and, with as little melodrama as possible, leaving the band to earn a consistent salary that he would save for his family's future and not blow on drink, drugs and whatever else tickled Simon's fancy that day.

The door creaked slightly as Sandra popped her head in the door. 'Oh is it over already? Any interesting winners?'

George smiled toward his wife warmly. 'Not really, same old same old. Dunno why I watch it really.'

'Ah well.' his wife shrugged 'Cup of tea?'

'Yeah, go on then darling.' he replied, glowing with appreciation.

As Sandra closed the living room door and begun to boil the kettle, George looked up toward his wall mounted Wal he never really played anymore and thought about his own lifetime achievements.