Murder on the Dancefloor

Memba Ben By Memba Ben, 2nd May 2017 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Humour>Funny Stories

A sad retelling of the first time I ever attended a rock concert.

."Gonna burn this goddamn house right down" - Sophie Ellis Bexter

My friend once told me that she loved rock and when I told her that my knowledge of rock only extended to the likes of Duran Duran and Queen, she looked at me as if I had slapped her and insisted that I join her for a night out to a local rock café to learn more.
I’d always been a bit weary of rock concerts and gatherings (they seemed a bit volatile for my liking) but in my quest to try new things out and against my better judgment, I agreed.

On the night we met up, I found to my surprise that while I was dressed all casual, she was dressed as a stereotypical goth. All black everything, dark eyeliner, ruby red lipstick, piercings and all. When I asked her what was up with the Addams Family look, she laughed and said that she was dressed for the occasion.

We get to the spot and find that everyone is dressed like the guys from KISS. Now, to ordinary people, these guys might have been the freaks and outcasts but I was in their realm and over here; they were the normal people and I was the freak.

Looks and comments were thrown in my direction:

“Who’s the weirdo?”

“What the hell is he wearing?”


My friend tried to make me feel as welcome as possible but I could feel their eyes on my skin. We headed to the bar and she encouraged me to get a bit buzzed, figuring it would make me more sociable.

A couple of drinks in and the people had become far more approachable...well; either that or I just didn’t give a fuck. I was drunk and determined to understand this peculiar group of metal heads. I just went about butting my big nose into other people’s conversations, dancing awkwardly, laughing obnoxiously, slurring words; the whole shebang.

I was being a drunken asshole and I loved it.

While some people were mildly annoyed, I was able to befriend a couple more drunk bastards and fun was being had.

A band came out (The Flying Dutchmen) and since their music was befitting for a mosh and it being my first time rocking out, I decided to join in on the fun. At the time, it might have been fun but when I look back; I think I must have been possessed by some other world entity for me to get involved in such because there is no way in hell I would do such. But despite the mayhem, I felt more welcomed.

I was finally being accepted.

I came in an outcast; being spat on and jeered and now I was being cheered.

After the band finished their set to the applause of a raucous crowd, the time had come for the headline act (The Killing). As the hype man was getting the crowd fired up, my new friends took the opportunity to explain that The Killing is a crazy good band and that I was sure to enjoy this.

My excitement went through the roof when I heard the crowd going mental and as I turned from my friend to look at the stage, I saw these 4 shirtless, tattooed guys with war paint smeared all about their bodies and their game faces on.

I couldn’t help but grin. There I was, having won the respect of these people, drunk as a skunk, , feeding off the crowds energy, and about to rock out like never before.

“I’m going to enjoy this”

The lights dimmed, and a tribal drum began blaring over the sound system.

DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF…

The pyro got fired up with the bursts of flames that matched the timing of the beat. When the stage lit up, it resembled a sacrificial altar. Picture the scene from King Kong where Naomi Watts is about to be sacrificed by the locals to Kong.

The whole stage setup had me feeling a tad nervous but the people around didn’t notice and went bonkers…

Then the lead singer came to the forefront of the stage and began the song.

I don’t know if my dress sense offended him, if something about me just irked him or if he picked up on my uneasiness but this guy just couldn’t take his eyes off me . It wasn’t a normal look/glance but more a fucken glare like I run over his dog or some shit like that...

The situation wasn’t helped by the lyrics of his song…

DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF…

DEATH…

DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF…

DIE!

DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF…

DEATH…

DOOF DOOF DOOF…

KILL YO SELF!

While he was singing these lyrics, this mufucka was looking at me THE WHOLE TIME.

So there I was, a happy drunk at my first rock concert, surrounded by a mob of drunken zombies worshipping a band on stage whilst the band leader was staring me down with his bloodshot eyes singing about death with a sacrificial altar behind him…

It was disconcerting to say the least.

I didn’t know how but I knew that I had to get the fuck out. However, I wasn’t going to look like some bitch and just run out of there with my tail between my legs, I was going to be tactful about it.

I had planned to use the phone call excuse (I need some air, so I’m just gonna go make a call) to get out of there but, by some ungodly force, this bastard must have known what I was thinking because he managed to screw that up.

I was trying to tell my friend that I was gonna take a quick break but this guy just kept on intruding:

Ben: “Jade, I’m just gonna go –“

KILL YO SELF!!!

Jade: “What was that Ben?”

DEATH.

Ben: “I said, I’m going outside to-“

DIE!!!

I gave up.

My friends were so enamored by this transcendent being, they didn’t notice me leaving.

With my pride and dignity in tatters, I sadly retreated and while I was doing so, it all made sense as to why that bastard hated me:

For a fleeting moment, I had all the shine.

I was the one they cherished and loved.

It was all me.

Then he came along.

I came with a friend, made more friends, gained respect but am now leaving alone and broken.

DEATH.

And despite that; even though I was leaving, I still felt his fucking eyes on the back on my head.

So, for one last time, I turned back to the stage…

And there he was.

In all his glory. The stage lights were illuminated on him and the pyro went off in a show of grandeur and he just stood there like a god; bathing in his exaltation, drinking in the adulation of his worshippers and my friends and still looking at me although this time, it wasn’t a glare.

It was a sneer.

The bastard was looking down on me and there’s nothing I could do about it.

He knew I was defeated, and with satisfaction in his eyes and a hint of glee in his voice, he mercifully ends our little game of thrones:

KILL YO SELF!!!

Tags

Rock Concerts, Rock Music, True Experiences, True Story

Meet the author

author avatar Memba Ben
A fan's view on the business of football.

For more content, head to:

https://thabisongwagwe.wixsite.com/benontheball
https://www.mixcloud.com/Ben_Bold/

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Comments

author avatar Retired
24th May 2017 (#)

Quite a story.....love the comparison between social outcast and being worshiped.

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author avatar Memba Ben
24th May 2017 (#)

Hi Tootsie

Thanks for taking the time to read the tale and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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