Opening Act

I opened for a band once. It wasn't planned. A friend, a guitarist, asked me if I'd do it. No notice for me, but I said okay. I asked him what I should say. He said it didn't matter. I asked,

"What if I want to tell a story about the U.S. military using geese as weapons of mass destruction in Afghanistan?"

"Whatever, man. We just want someone to keep the crowd entertained or at least occupied in some way while we get set up. It should only be a few minutes."

"There's a lot of people here, but ... okay, what the hell."

So, after talking with the band for awhile they got the go-ahead to get started. They set me up with a microphone on a stand and I looked out over a crowd of a couple hundred people. I guess. It could have been more or less. I didn't do a head-count. It was a lot of people. I was just hoping to relax and listen to some music.

But, I was in a good mood so I said right away

"Hello, I'm Michael and I am not in the band. I wanted to be in the band, but they have taste ... and talent. Look, they're musicians. They're skilled. They're artists. I'm a hack. I've got nothing to offer at all.

Well, that's not entirely true. I had one idea. It was the one idea I pitched to them. Just a little while ago, in fact. They shot it down, but I'm going to tell you about it anyway just to show you how fucking smart these assholes are.

See, I wanted to come out here and front for them, open with some BLAMMO and rock this place. I wanted to ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!!!!!! I was going to come out screaming like the half-wit mutant offspring of Ronnie James Dio and Bruce Dickinson, blasting you with thump-de-da-thump-de-da-thump-de-da-thuuuuu-UMP-de-da-the-thump-thump-de-da-thump-de-da-thump-de-da--

Oh, when the fire started rising
To the platelets in the STARRRRRS
The mighty wind of Venus
Accompanied by chocolate BARRRRRS
Foretold the wisdom of the ages:
CHICKS DIG GUYS WHO PLAY GUITARRRRRS!!!!!!!
Oh, YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAA ... UH!

But, no, they rejected the idea. Not because I have a horrible voice. Not because the lyrics suck. Both good reasons, but instead they rejected my idea because it elevated one member of their trio above the others. Egalitarians, these fuckers.

I should have added this verse:

But those chicks I like the best
The ones better than ALLLLLLL the rest
Are the ones who blow the bassists
While the drummers cum on their TITS! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! WHOOOO!

Yeah, so here are the guys who didn't want me to sing that song ... What? ... ... You're not ready? Keep going? ... Keep going?

Look, people, I've got nothing. That was it. I was at a theater earlier today crying while watching live feeds of seals being clubbed to death. I'm emotionally exhausted. I want to go home. I want you to cuddle with me later. No, not you. You're too hairy. And you're a man. I was talking about your girlfriend or wife or mistress or ... the woman sitting next to you. Yeah, her. Your wife? Yeah.

Hey, look, nothing against you, pal. If I was into men, sure, but I'm not. I will sleep with your wife, though. You're laughing right now, I know, but I'm actually telling you what I'm going to be doing soon. Not tonight. I've got other plans. I was thinking next Tuesday. Could you run a few extra errands between, say, six and ten p.m.? I haven't had sex with your wife before--first time I've ever seen her--so I'd like a little time to get to know her first, flirt a little, tease, fool around. You know, have fun for awhile before getting really nasty for a good hour or so.

Wait outside your front door around ten p.m. I'll exit there and then make out with your wife while you watch. She'll beg me to stay, but I will leave and never see either of you again. Your wife will turn to you and say "Looking at you makes me want to puke." Your relationship will be over. She will fall in love with many men and women throughout her life and remain sexually satisfied most of her days until she dies from the intensity of an orgasm while being fucked by a dildo with a head shaped into a likeness of Barack Obama.

You, on the other hand, will never again find love. You will live for decades in increasingly excruciating existential agony while physically deteriorating organ by organ until both your body and mind are sludge. You'll still feel yourself as yourself, but unable to move, unable to speak, a struggle to breath, no way to communicate, until madness overtakes you. Oh, the horror, man!

I am so sorry! See, this is why it sucks to be able to predict the future. I mean, I really doubt I'm going to enjoy fucking your wife as much as I would have had I not known that your life was going to end up like that. I hate this, but as far as I can tell there is no way to change things. I mean, my ability to see the future is flawless. I don't see stuff and then nothing happens. I see what happens before it happens, you know? I'm sorry, I'm just a messenger. A reporter, I guess, giving you the current news about future events.

You can't even kill yourself, dude. I mean, you literally have decades of growing existential terror ahead of you and a complete body/mind breakdown near the end of your life. I've seen thousands of future deaths and yours is, by far, the most excruciating. No one deserves what you are going to experience. It's just not right. I'm so sorry. There's just nothing that can be done.

Well, it looks like the band is ready to play. Enjoy the music, folks. The rest of your lives look great. It's just that one dude who is really screwed. Oh, there is some short-term good news for you tonight, man. You're going to have a really great time listening to the band, your wife is going to fuck you like an animal later, and you're going to wake up to breakfast in bed. Things don't start going bad until next Tuesday. You got a kick-ass four-day weekend ahead you, man! Celebrate!"