No Encore (598 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.5 on 12 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by morontian (View user info) at 2005-11-15 04:09:44 EST
He could hear the crowd clamoring for the show. Looking at the monitor resting on the folding table at the side of the stage, he sees the faces under the house lights. Looks of anticipation, expectation, and obstinance flooded his eyes as he searched for a single face. Just one face in this congregation that would not see him as a god to be worshipped then denounced would make the next two hours of this torture worth it. He tries to look at the faces and replace them with the faces of his wife and children and finds it impossible. All he sees is fickle admiration and idiocy. It wasn't always that way. The club days when he would stand outside in the cold and greet true fans (whom he considered friends) that had driven for hours to stand in a smoky concrete room just to hear him play were just a distant memory now. He wonders if those people were even here tonight. He hopes that they are not, for their own sake and dignity.
"Who Made Who," the penultimate pre-show song plays on the P.A. as he adjusts his guitar strap and cracks his knuckels. He looks over and sees the drunken glee in the drummer's cloudy hazel eyes and is struck with a wave of disappointment and borderline hatred. Wes had helped co-found the band and was always the one with the head for business. He had worked endorsement deals and merchendise licensing that would make Gene Simmons himself gape in awe, and it was his heart for commerce that had put their collective faces in such high recognition; even moreso than the music itself, honestly. Yeah, Wes had made the band everything it is today, so naturally, he hated the bastard.
The music, heh. The music had become a fucking joke. Since a few years ago when they had stumbled across the "Big Hit," management had been sure to coerce the band into sticking with the formula. Sure, it had been fun for a while: the rush of seeing the list of singles rising up the charts grow, watching the album sales reach ridiculous heights, (diamond, how do you begin to wrap your head around that?) finally giving Melody and the kids the house they deserved. The drive for continuing success was like inflating a balloon beyond its limits. More and more pressure, more hot air, never reaching a point of satisfaction or accepting the possibility of a plateau. His frustration at the restrictions building up around him gave way to apathy. The material that he turned out became a job that he did on spec, and he became increasingly content to let others take care of the artwork and plan the shows. He had fallen into the role of just showing up and playing the part, something that was going to change shortly.
The last dying echos of the song "Hey You" rolls around the stadium as the house lights go down and washes the venue in black. The crowd roars as a single, low note fills the darkness, threatening to explode the chest of anything withing range. In a display of overeagerness, Wes began playing short bursts of drum fills. "Stick to the script, asshole," isn't that the line that Wes had been quoting to him many times over the last few months? A slight chuckle escapes him as he steps up to the mic to provide his own bit of improv: "Hello, Columbus" he growls into the dark, knowing goddamn well that they are in Syracuse. He can feel the manager wince backstage, and it makes him smile.
The show kicks into gear and it's business as usual. The lighting is on cue, the screens are in sync, and the band is as flavorlessly tight as ever. The cameras catch every action and they are thrown up on the screen and blended with the pre-shot conceptual footage seamlessly. Two thirds through the set, the moment that he has been waiting for arrives. He takes his place on the catwalk directly above Wes' drum set. All the instruments drop out with the exceptions of the drums and the bass providing the perfect breakdown. The morons in the audience eat it up, taking the opprotunity to try to make more noise than the band.
His eyes follow the searchlights as they caress the crowd in the dark. Nothing.
He takes a breath and pictures Melody and the kids in his mind: the way she leaned over the desk and signed the papers thus dissolving the marriage, the way the twins had pressed their faces against the rear widows, looking like lost puppies as the car pulled away from his new apartment, the way William, the ten year old son, had flown him the bird with a demonic smirk on his face and reproach in his sharp hazel eyes. All the while, he can hear the crowd chanting its approval.
He takes his guitar and undoes the strap. Holding it by the joint of the headstock, he raises it high above his head and pinwheels it twice. The audience cheers. He lowers the guitar once again and holds it by the body against his hips and rocks back and forth in the gratuitous sexual pantomime. The kids scream wildly. He brings the guitar down in a swift stroke, breaking the headstock off and leaving a jagged spear in its place. And the crowd goes wild. The screens display it all for the people in the last row to have the perfect view. His sanity snaps free, and no one notices.
He looks down and sees Wes looking back up at him with a confused smile on his face. This is definitely not in the script, and that is all Wes really needs to know right now. Although not a word can be heard, the manager is waving his arms and stomping his feet at the side of the stage, it's the best distraction one could ask for, and he takes advantage.
He carefully positions himself directly above Wes and turns the guitar around to place the broken shaft of wood to his heart. He glances again to make sure Wes is still preoccupied and slowly lets himself tilt forward. He feels his feet lose touch with the walkway and as he falls he sees Wes look up and lock eyes with him.
The bastard. That fucking bastard. At least I'm taking him with me.
The camera follows him down, and the people in the last row have the perfect view.
_________________________________
Melody gasps as she places her hand over William's eyes and turns him to the side. Why did she ever think that this would be a good idea? Did she ever even think that at all? No, not really. He already suspected anyway, he had said so in not so many words, but Wes had never known. Wes had never had a clue.
User Reviews
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-11-15 22:25:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
um, ending is crap.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2005-11-15 22:16:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
nice!
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2005-11-15 15:38:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by electrictoothsyndrome (user info) at 2005-11-15 13:16:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
So you're trying to say that William is really Wes's son, but it didn't come across as well as it could have.
Work on your endings.
Submitted by The_Yellow_Dart (user info) at 2005-11-15 12:57:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good idea with the band stuff; they always have problems.
A little confused about what happened at the end too... care to explain?
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2005-11-15 09:22:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, I haven't quite mastered the art of the concise ending, I always seem to end up with ambiguity instead.
Oh well. I'll get there someday.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-11-15 09:16:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ace, but I agree with the others about that rather obscure pair of sentances at the end.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2005-11-15 08:42:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
interesting.
and i got to say- better than the drivel i posted.
Submitted by nahnoneofit (user info) at 2005-11-15 08:22:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
pretty much made sense to me
Submitted by sinna (user info) at 2005-11-15 08:22:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I liked this, but I had trouble picturing what the lead singer was doing near the end, and the last paragraph was vague as well. Good writing, but needs to be less mysterious and more descriptive.
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2005-11-15 08:16:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-11-15 08:05:48 (#)
Ranking: 1
Do I have this right?
Melody cheated on the lead singer with Wes prior to the divorce?
If not then I'm as lost as a John Kerry advisor at a post election speech.
You seem to make a habit of producing weird endings.
--------------------------------
Partly right. She cheated long before that, though. About eleven years prior, actually. The man was even better at keeping secrets than she is.
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-11-15 08:05:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Do I have this right?
Melody cheated on the lead singer with Wes prior to the divorce?
If not then I'm as lost as a John Kerry advisor at a post election speech.
You seem to make a habit of producing weird endings.