My eyes were filling with rain, and I forced myself to blink; it was growing increasingly difficult to do so. Keeping my mouth closed was also getting to be a challenge. Eventually I gave up and allowed it to gape open. Fat raindrops, the color of dishwater, found their way inside my parted lips. They tasted of smoke and despair. When my eyes cleared, I turned to look at Dennis again. It was such a shame that he had lost his left ear, but accidents happen, I suppose. To me, he was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. He grinned at me and took my hand. Together we ran through the rain, elbowing and shoving our way to the front of the stage. The concert was about to begin.
I had never heard of this particular band before but they had a catchy name, and Dennis told me they really kicked ass. They were very fond of stage diving and crowd surfing as well, according to Dennis, and that’s what I really wanted to see. I had seen rock bands do these stunts on TV, back when watching TV mattered. A band member, usually the lead singer, would leap from a concert stage into the adoring arms of the crowd below; then he was passed hand to hand overhead, shuffled from one part of the venue to another. The lead singer for the band we were about to see was supposedly a huge dude: at least three hundred pounds. He might pull of the stage dive, but there was no way in hell he was going to crowd surf; me and Dennis had already decided that.
We moved as close to the stage as we could get, and although people backed far away from us to let us through, I was a little indignant about some of the horrified looks we received. Surely we didn’t look that bad! I was starting to drool a little, but it mixed with the rain running down my chin, and I don't think anyone noticed. Dennis took my hand again and squeezed it hard. The band took the stage; we were ready to rock.
Loud. So damn loud. We were nearly blown backwards by the force of the sub bass speakers alone. Dennis was right: these guys did kick ass, most definitely so, and I was immediately captivated by the lead singer. He was every bit as massive as Dennis said he was, but he was amazingly graceful. He gyrated, head-banged, and bounced around just as easily as his scrawny band mates. It was midway through the second set when we realized this thrash metal behemoth was going to do it; the lead singer was going to stage dive.
The crowd surged forward, not looking at me and Dennis now, but that was alright. They would back away again real soon. The front man’s hammy legs tensed, ready for his leap, and the crowd chanted a countdown: FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! He sailed off the stage like a flying whale, and me and Dennis caught him. It was an amazing dive, flawlessly performed, but I really didn't understand the violent reactions of everyone else as me and my boyfriend ripped him apart and started to chow down. I mean, the name of the band was Zombie Feast, for cryin’ out loud. What did they expect?