The starburst that was Michael inevitably put James somewhat in the shade. But like him or loathe him -- and James did both -- he found it impossible resist Michael's energetic charm or the mischief of his spectacle. And James was not alone in this. Everyone seemed unable to resist The Michael Alig Show. Peter Gatien, the powerful club owner, indulged Michael as though he were his own son. At the other extreme Angel Melendez the club kid neophyte looked up to Michael as though he were a God. So many others like Angel followed in Michael's wake that he was a kind of Pied Piper.

But just as David Bowie became trapped by his Ziggy Stardust creation, so Michael became hostage to his brat-like persona. In reality shy and retiring, Michael's exuberant public front demanded that, to remain ahead of the pack and leader of the parade, he continually had to outdo himself with increasingly outrageous pranks. One day Michael went too far. He murdered Angel.

There was nothing particularly nice about Angel, and Angel had attacked Michael, hadn't he? But then as James realized that perhaps it was not self-defense, that perhaps there was more to it, it started to eat away at him. And even when Angel was reduced to a mere sacrificial symbol, James was forced to recognize that no excuse could justify such a brutal thing. Even the surreal anarchic alternative universe they had created from themselves had to conform.