Slightly was beginning to wonder if he should check himself back into the hospital. The day had started off well enough. He had explored a beautiful city garden and had some deep conversations with some men sitting on the sidewalk. He had bought a coat at a second hand store and then had lunch at a busy restaurant with rather flat hamburgers. But he was nearly out of money and as the night came on, he worried about where he was going to sleep. Even more frustrating, however, was that he wasn't any closer to finding out who he was.
He passed a pub advertising a karaoke contest that evening with a £300 prize. He considered the poster stuck to the building. Can I sing? He wondered. This was a good way to find out. Plus, he could really use the money. He walked into the pub and signed up with the DJ.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Slightly."
The DJ looked at him skeptically. "Is that like your artist name?"
"Sure."
Slightly sat through a middle aged man attempting an Elvis impersonation and a young woman who spent more time drinking her beer than singing. Then it was his turn. He stepped up on stage and swallowed hard. There was a moment of panic as he stared out at the audience, but as the beginning strains of "Oh! Darling" by The Beatles came over the sound system, he calmly opened his mouth and began to sing as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And man, could he sing! Even he was impressed by the sounds issuing forth from his mouth.
The audience responded enthusiastically, so Slightly amped up his performance. He strutted across the stage, stood on tables, sat in the lap of an elderly lady, and generally had a fantastic time. When he finished, the DJ had to ask the patrons to stop cheering so they could get on with the next contestant.
There were several more singers after Slightly, but he couldn't very well listen to them. People kept coming up to tell him how much they enjoyed his performance and ask him where he had learned to sing so well. He couldn't answer that question, so he made things up.
"My father was an opera singer and whenever I got in trouble he punished me by making me sing about everything I did wrong," he told one man with thick glasses. "I spent a year on an island where our only means of survival was singing to the sharks," he told another girl who couldn't seem to stop staring at his lips.
Finally, after the last contestant had struggled through the high notes of a power ballad, the DJ took the stage.
"I think we have a pretty obvious winner," he announced.
A dozen people called out, "Slightly!"
"That's right! Slightly, congratulations! You are our karaoke night winner!"
The pub erupted into cheers and several hands clapped Slightly on the back as he went up to collect his cash. At that moment, he was extremely glad he had left the hospital.
After things had calmed down a bit, a jolly looking man approached him.
"Slightly! My name is Sebastian Kempton, it's absolutely smashing to meet you!" He exclaimed, grabbing Slightly's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I plan events for the city. We're having a talent competition this weekend and I would be so atingle if you would participate!" He shoved a flyer into Slightly's hand. "It's called the Mr. Capital contest, and it's a pageant of sorts for young men. The winner will be chosen by the mayor of London!"
Slightly glanced at the flyer, noticing the competition would consist of several rounds and that the prize for first place was £5000. He raised his eyebrows and looked back at Mr. Kempton. "Count me in."
*****
Slightly had found a hostel that didn't seem to mind that he didn't have any identification. He was assigned a bed, but when he stepped into the room, he saw three young ladies sitting on the floor inspecting a dress.
"Oh dear, I think I'm in the wrong room," he said, backing up, but then he spied a cluster of young men in the corner and muttered, "or am I?"
One of the young men, seeing his confusion, called out: "It's a co-ed room, mate! Don't worry, they won't attack you in the middle of the night. Usually."
The group of young men burst into laughter and the girls on the floor rolled their eyes. Slightly blushed and located his bed across the room. He didn't think he'd ever slept in a room with girls before, it just didn't seem proper. He found himself thinking about how exciting it would be to sleep in close proximity to Lily, but quickly pushed the thought from his mind before it threatened to keep him awake all night.
"I don't think there's anything we can do to fix it, Marie," said one of the girls on the floor. "We can try to sew up the tear, but it'll look pretty bad."
The mention of sewing piqued Slightly's interest. He turned and glanced at the dress one of the girl's was holding up. It was a shiny red, sleeveless garment that had a long tear up the side. He had an idea. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap that he had taken from his metallic bodysuit.
Slightly approached the girls and gestured to the dress. "Do you mind if I try something?" He asked.
The girl holding the dress looked at him suspiciously, but then she shrugged. "Sure, why not. It's pretty much ruined anyway."
Slightly knelt down and took the dress and the small sewing kit they had been using. With the kit's scissors he continued along the tear and cut the dress all the way to the top. The girls gasped, but didn't interfere. Then he cut a thin strip from his metallic material and began sewing it into the dress where the tear had been. His stitching was small and precise, and the girls kept marveling at his sewing skill.
When he had finished, he held it out to the girl. She squealed and Slightly quickly averted his eyes as she stripped down to try it on. The other young men in the room, however, were staring straight at her.
"It's perfect!" She exclaimed, admiring the metallic stripe down the side. "Thank you so much!" She gave Slightly a hug and then went back to her friends, who were chatting excitedly.
Slightly smiled and walked back to his bed. He still had no clue who he was or if he had any relations, but if nothing else, he was discovering what his talents were.