A Fan Fiction Short
“Time to get sexy,” Harley called from my room, “let’s get dirty.”
I threw my cane into the front seat of Harley’s car with force. As she buckled her seat belt and started the engine, I rubbed the tips of my fingers down the tight weave of my hemp cargo pants. I smoothed the cool, light fabric of my tank top. Harley had brought the tank top- left to my own decisions I would have slipped into my ‘Hedgehog Does It Deeper’ tee shirt. But Harley had brought this navel-baring tank to “accentuate the positive- your belly and your boobs.”
But she hadn’t stopped with the top. Harley had only pronounced me sexy after applying my makeup, which I never wore, and sweeping my long, thick hair into a pile of voluminous curls on the crown of my head, secured with two long wooden rods. “Chop sticks.” She’d called them.
I dug into one of the cavernous pockets in the pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and small box of wooden matches. I stuck a match, conscious of the sharp sulfur smell it made. The tobacco burned. I tipped the first ash out the opened window as we raced down the expressway to the concert venue.
I didn’t want to talk about the conversation she’d had with my mother. While kissing my son goodbye, I had heard my best friend argue with my mom on my “disability” and the way my family made sure it pulled me down. I didn’t want to talk at all. The argument hadn’t affected Harley in the least, however, so she carried the conversation entirely herself, chattering ceaselessly and giving me no chance to sink into depression, finally drawing me out with amusing stories of the adventures we would have tonight. At the concert.
“This, Fornie, will be a night to remember. The Asylum. God, I could lick Jed from his head to his toes for giving us these passes! Who would have known your brother, the audio visual geek, would turn into a dj and get us the best seats for a KoRn concert ever!” I laughed, told her to stop- not wanting to visualize Harley licking my older brother anywhere, let alone from face to his feet.
It was true though- we owed my brother a big hand for giving us this opportunity. He knows how much I like KoRn, I thought to myself, and he gave these passes up so I could go- even though I know he really wanted these passes!
The car was parked and we were already in our stadium seats for the support groups before the excitement hit me. And it hit me hard, like a thick concrete wall of adrenaline had fallen onto my chest, causing my heart to race away. House music played loudly as thousands of separate conversations created a din that served as a backdrop for the event yet to begin. The crowd’s excitement swelled almost like a physical extension of the bodies jammed into the seats and the floor below. The music dimmed and a hush fell over the venue.
And Papa Roach began to play. And the crowd went wild.
Forty minutes later Harley and I made out way to the predetermined meeting place for The Asylum- a long pole in the middle of the wide hallway. We were slightly sweaty from the close heat the rolled off those thousands of bodies, but we were happy and it was much cooler in the hall. Harley happily exclaimed, “We’re the first in line.”
A plastic bracelet was strapped tightly to my wrist. Behind us, a long line formed as Powerman 5000 thundered on stage. My legs trembled and I leaned on my cane. Harley asked if I was okay, saying my face was flushed.
“I think I’m going to pee!” I said, feeling a bit green. Two of the girls in line behind us laughed. I laughed.
A long flight of stairs led us to into the bowels of the venue. We passed through checkpoints, signed off on waivers, were frisked, were herded along like so many cattle. At the top of another set of stairs, a young man with a clear voice announced the Asylum rules- no smoking, no cameras, STAY OFF THE STAGE, no drinking and no drugs. We were the lucky one hundred and twenty people that night- sixty people allowed to stand on each side of the stage and enjoy KoRn up close and very personal. All with the benefit of NOT being trampled in the pit!
The man with the clear voice reached in front of me, grabbing my cane. He told me I couldn’t take it with me into the Asylum. He must have seen the protective look on Harley’s face, she was looking out for me, because he asked if I could deal without it, and I answered, yes, I could manage. He explained he would return it after the show, and gave me his name- Josh. I heard the laughter in his voice as he said, “We couldn’t have you beating Head in the head onstage.” He released us and the line behind us surged forward to get down the stairs.
Harley took it upon herself to put my arm in a death grip as she led me down that last stair case. Josh walked directly in front of us as several security guards kept the others in a single file line. We wound through the backstage maze, both Harley and I tripping over thick cables taped to the concrete floor on occasion. Josh led us to “Head’s side.” We slipped against the softly curving fiberglass walls of the stage midway up the Asylum pit, directly in the middle, in front of the elevated drum kit.
Harley held my hand in hers as she bounced up and down. “I think I have to pee now!”
