Domed.
Okay, so here is some more. I personally love it, but then... I don't know what it is. I think it's coping with being me. I don't know. That sounds rather self-centered, I guess. Whatever.
~~~
Walking in the door I decided maybe it wasn’t such a mistake. A wall of noise smashed us back against the wall while we adjusted to the lights and press of bodies. It wasn’t too terribly crowded, just too small of a space for the band onstage. A redhead with a beard growled into the microphone, singing lyrics I could not understand. A couple of scrawny boys played bass and guitar, while someone cowered behind the mass of drums and cymbals.
“Is that your friend?” I asked, putting emphasis on the last word.
She squinted, standing on tiptoe. “I can’t tell.” She glared at me. “Well, you tell me, is it a woman?”
I looked lazily over the heads of the people around us. “Oh, I don’t know. Does your friend have a tattoo across her face?”
Her eyes grew large and round. “The drummer has a tattoo on his face?!”
“No, of course not. That would be silly.” She socked me on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, let’s get a drink, maybe they haven’t taken the stage yet.”
We stopped in front of a low table where a bored looking middle aged man stood. A couple of fountain pop machines stood beside him, a sight to make the heart sink. “I guess I should have mentioned this is a youth-friendly event?” she said at my shoulder. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and ordered an overpriced cup of flat Coke.
I jabbed her in the shoulder. “Should we try to get closer?”
She made a sour face over her hot Sprite. “Not unless you want to… excuse me, I have a question, has Cold & Dead taken the stage yet?” the last part of this being directed at someone beside us, who regarded her with wide eyes. The person, I couldn’t be entirely sure of the sex, nodded their head slowly before returning their undivided attention to the space right in front of their face. I repressed the desire to wave my hand in front of their nose and shrugged.
“Maybe they will have an encore?” she wondered. I looked around me at the state of the room; there were chairs upturned and a couple of angry looking groups here and there. A steady stream of people filtered toward the door, something I hadn’t noticed until then.
I righted a folding chair and sat down. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
She sighed. “I guess you were right. Come on, let’s go to the movies.”
“Hold on a minute, I’m not sure I am ready to leave yet.”
She glared at the musicians on stage; the lead singer had stopped singing and they seemed to be switching instruments and positions. One put down a green monstrosity of a guitar, one with pointy edges that looked right out of a cartoon. “You cannot tell me you enjoy this,” she said with incredulity as one, acoustic guitar in hand, adjusted the microphone stand and sat.
“I don’t dislike it,” I countered, slightly defensive. “It reminds me of my roommate freshman year. I spent many nights listening to Slayer and cramming for exams.” She scoffed loudly. “You would be surprised how well that works, I got to the point that I couldn’t balance chemical equations unless I was being audibly pummeled by Tool.”
Conversation across the room was cut off then. “Ello,” the man at the microphone said firmly, genially. He sounded exactly the opposite that his guitar had minutes before, I realised with a start. I’d expected the Devil to be using him as a conduit, but now he sounded like a slightly drunk schoolboy. “I, uhm, I have a song I would like to performicate for you, if that is okay. A bit of a change in directionally, I’m going to play a song I wrote. So do enjoy yourselfy.”
She leaned in close. “He sounds like a moron.”
“Hush,” I responded. “My future husband is playing.”
“You say that about everyone,” she grumbled while pulling a chair to her, sitting down heavily and making the uneven metal legs shriek against the bare cement floor. “He isn’t even that good looking.”
He wasn’t, not really. His neck was too long and his shoulders thin, sitting on top of a small chest and long gangly legs. He appeared to be made entirely of bones and skin. His face was broad and his eyes large. He nervously flipped a lock of strawberry blond hair out of his eyes with long thin fingers, carefully adjusting the tension on his strings with his other hand. Finally, with a small smile to the audience, he began to play.
The place was emptying quickly, people disappointed in the turn of events. I was not one of them. “Let’s move closer,” I whispered. She reluctantly stood up and followed in my footsteps. Trying to keep to the shadows we moved forward, as stealthy as when we were in school and sneaked out to parties.
That is until she, not being careful where her feet went, stumbled and crashed into me, knocking us both into an occupied chair where a couple sat in each other’s lap, making out in the darkness. The four of us tumbled loudly to the floor, causing the man to stop playing suddenly as everyone in the room turned to look. Struggling to our feet, she stood before the rest of us and tried to help me up. At that moment a spotlight shined down, bathing us all in a bright light.
She gasped. “Meg?”
The woman looked up guiltily, makeup smudged. “Anna? Is it you?”
Anna blushed, redder than I had ever seen her. “Yeah, we, uhm, we tried to make your show. But we missed it.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” the drummer responded as she pulled herself to her feet. “We had a lousy set anyway. That’s why everyone left, I think.”
“Hey, guys?” an amplified voice interrupted. As one four heads turned to look at the stage where he sat. “Are you okay?”
Meg broke into a nervous laugh, a habit that Anna told me about dreamily before hand. “Yeah, we’re fine. Fine fine. More than fine. We’re great.”
There was a pause as we looked back and forth between each other. He tilted his head to the side. “So can I continue…?”
“Oh! Haha, oh yes. Go on. Go, be proud. Be free. Just… go.” The slight girl ducked her head as he resumed his music, no confidence lost despite the interruption right in front of the stage.
Anna quickly threw her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, are you okay? Here, let me get you some ice…”
The boy, red lipstick on his face, looked at the pair as they disappeared into the crowd. “Hey, did she just steal my date?”
I glanced at him and returned my attention to the stage. “I do believe so, yes.”
He regarded me with dull eyes. “You wanna make out?”
~~~
Walking in the door I decided maybe it wasn’t such a mistake. A wall of noise smashed us back against the wall while we adjusted to the lights and press of bodies. It wasn’t too terribly crowded, just too small of a space for the band onstage. A redhead with a beard growled into the microphone, singing lyrics I could not understand. A couple of scrawny boys played bass and guitar, while someone cowered behind the mass of drums and cymbals.
“Is that your friend?” I asked, putting emphasis on the last word.
She squinted, standing on tiptoe. “I can’t tell.” She glared at me. “Well, you tell me, is it a woman?”
I looked lazily over the heads of the people around us. “Oh, I don’t know. Does your friend have a tattoo across her face?”
Her eyes grew large and round. “The drummer has a tattoo on his face?!”
“No, of course not. That would be silly.” She socked me on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, let’s get a drink, maybe they haven’t taken the stage yet.”
We stopped in front of a low table where a bored looking middle aged man stood. A couple of fountain pop machines stood beside him, a sight to make the heart sink. “I guess I should have mentioned this is a youth-friendly event?” she said at my shoulder. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and ordered an overpriced cup of flat Coke.
I jabbed her in the shoulder. “Should we try to get closer?”
She made a sour face over her hot Sprite. “Not unless you want to… excuse me, I have a question, has Cold & Dead taken the stage yet?” the last part of this being directed at someone beside us, who regarded her with wide eyes. The person, I couldn’t be entirely sure of the sex, nodded their head slowly before returning their undivided attention to the space right in front of their face. I repressed the desire to wave my hand in front of their nose and shrugged.
“Maybe they will have an encore?” she wondered. I looked around me at the state of the room; there were chairs upturned and a couple of angry looking groups here and there. A steady stream of people filtered toward the door, something I hadn’t noticed until then.
I righted a folding chair and sat down. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
She sighed. “I guess you were right. Come on, let’s go to the movies.”
“Hold on a minute, I’m not sure I am ready to leave yet.”
She glared at the musicians on stage; the lead singer had stopped singing and they seemed to be switching instruments and positions. One put down a green monstrosity of a guitar, one with pointy edges that looked right out of a cartoon. “You cannot tell me you enjoy this,” she said with incredulity as one, acoustic guitar in hand, adjusted the microphone stand and sat.
“I don’t dislike it,” I countered, slightly defensive. “It reminds me of my roommate freshman year. I spent many nights listening to Slayer and cramming for exams.” She scoffed loudly. “You would be surprised how well that works, I got to the point that I couldn’t balance chemical equations unless I was being audibly pummeled by Tool.”
Conversation across the room was cut off then. “Ello,” the man at the microphone said firmly, genially. He sounded exactly the opposite that his guitar had minutes before, I realised with a start. I’d expected the Devil to be using him as a conduit, but now he sounded like a slightly drunk schoolboy. “I, uhm, I have a song I would like to performicate for you, if that is okay. A bit of a change in directionally, I’m going to play a song I wrote. So do enjoy yourselfy.”
She leaned in close. “He sounds like a moron.”
“Hush,” I responded. “My future husband is playing.”
“You say that about everyone,” she grumbled while pulling a chair to her, sitting down heavily and making the uneven metal legs shriek against the bare cement floor. “He isn’t even that good looking.”
He wasn’t, not really. His neck was too long and his shoulders thin, sitting on top of a small chest and long gangly legs. He appeared to be made entirely of bones and skin. His face was broad and his eyes large. He nervously flipped a lock of strawberry blond hair out of his eyes with long thin fingers, carefully adjusting the tension on his strings with his other hand. Finally, with a small smile to the audience, he began to play.
The place was emptying quickly, people disappointed in the turn of events. I was not one of them. “Let’s move closer,” I whispered. She reluctantly stood up and followed in my footsteps. Trying to keep to the shadows we moved forward, as stealthy as when we were in school and sneaked out to parties.
That is until she, not being careful where her feet went, stumbled and crashed into me, knocking us both into an occupied chair where a couple sat in each other’s lap, making out in the darkness. The four of us tumbled loudly to the floor, causing the man to stop playing suddenly as everyone in the room turned to look. Struggling to our feet, she stood before the rest of us and tried to help me up. At that moment a spotlight shined down, bathing us all in a bright light.
She gasped. “Meg?”
The woman looked up guiltily, makeup smudged. “Anna? Is it you?”
Anna blushed, redder than I had ever seen her. “Yeah, we, uhm, we tried to make your show. But we missed it.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” the drummer responded as she pulled herself to her feet. “We had a lousy set anyway. That’s why everyone left, I think.”
“Hey, guys?” an amplified voice interrupted. As one four heads turned to look at the stage where he sat. “Are you okay?”
Meg broke into a nervous laugh, a habit that Anna told me about dreamily before hand. “Yeah, we’re fine. Fine fine. More than fine. We’re great.”
There was a pause as we looked back and forth between each other. He tilted his head to the side. “So can I continue…?”
“Oh! Haha, oh yes. Go on. Go, be proud. Be free. Just… go.” The slight girl ducked her head as he resumed his music, no confidence lost despite the interruption right in front of the stage.
Anna quickly threw her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, are you okay? Here, let me get you some ice…”
The boy, red lipstick on his face, looked at the pair as they disappeared into the crowd. “Hey, did she just steal my date?”
I glanced at him and returned my attention to the stage. “I do believe so, yes.”
He regarded me with dull eyes. “You wanna make out?”