In the days following, Enfants Terribles and Michael Jackson released their collaborative single, 'Heal the World.' The track struck the United States like a bolt of lightning.
There were two main reasons for the uproar. First, the King of Pop—a legend who had retreated into seclusion after the 2003 allegations, seemingly losing his faith in humanity—had returned with a message of hope, peace, and resilience.
"Michael!! Is the word 'children' in 'Heal the World' a reflection of your paraphilia?!"
"What did you just say to Michael-hyung? You son of a bitch."
The second reason was that Enfants Terribles—a group of punks more likely to be seen beating the hell out of paparazzi than acting as ambassadors—had finally released a track with a seemingly political message.
"Does Enfants Terribles intend for this song to be a condemnation of the US's military actions?!"
"Bullshit."
I sneered at the media's hysteria and gave them a blunt middle finger.
Contrary to the sensationalism of the press, the lyrics for 'Heal the World' weren't some deep sociopolitical manifesto; we had scribbled them down while drinking with Michael Jackson. From the beginning, our band's identity was rooted in self-affirmation and optimism. Our worldview happened to align with Michael's, so we simply translated our drunken conversation into lyrics.
"Stop talking nonsense. Just buy our shitty T-shirts and posters on your way out, you fucking pricks."
Naturally, the front pages of every American newspaper the next morning featured Enfants Terribles flipping off and pummeling reporters, while Michael Jackson stood in the background watching with a wide, beaming smile.
Paradoxically, the public went even wilder for them, captivated by their raw, unapologetic attitude.
"Michael! Michael! Michael!"
"EF! EF! EF!"
The United Center in Chicago. Famous as the home of the Chicago Bulls during Michael Jordan's era, the venue boasted 24,000 seats.
Today, this iconic arena was set to host the joint performance of Michael Jackson and Enfants Terribles.
In a venue packed to the rafters, the audience roared, their cheers reaching a fever pitch as they called out for their idols. The crowd was a demographic collision: fans of the meteoric rising stars, Enfants Terribles, mixed with the loyal followers of the fading yet immortal Michael Jackson. It felt less like a concert and more like a grand coronation.
Then, the lights began to dim.
Simultaneously, four men plummeted toward the stage via wires. Sharp yellow spotlights chased their descent, cutting through the darkness.
Michael Jackson took his position at center stage, while the members of Enfants Terribles, all clad in matching fedoras, moved to their stations to grab their instruments.
"Mad Fer it, Yeah??!"
The moment the first iconic riff—familiar to every soul in America—sliced through the air, the United Center erupted.
The opening song was 'Billie Jean.'
But this wasn't the original pop track; it was a raw, rock-infused rendition of 'Billie Jean' performed by Michael Jackson in his first public appearance in five years.