Musical Political Killings
Motley Howe handed his ticket to the Bubba's at the gate and he slid into the Kyle Deerbone concert. That mother fragger shit sogger was going down. When the man three places ahead of him got frisked, and they found a forty five, the trench coated white hat man said, "I'm a 'merican, I got a right to carry a gun!" They let him go, same as Motley. Wave the flag and march inside; the smell of beer and cologne and leather boots.
The opening act was The Chawville Junction, fresh out of Oklahoma and not half good. The whole scene was obnoxious and Unspeakably unCool to an outsider to the culture. A strong right wing racist style political current ran hot through the crowd. They had slogans that made Motley want to just draw his gun and open fire on the whole crowd in a form of outraged protest. Motley knew he had to stay focused on his mission: Deerbone must die!
Motley had been practicing with a full-sized cardboard cut out of Deerbone, he was the best he had ever been. He approached this with a strong dedication, because deep in his shiny little heart he knew of the good it would do us. After a half hour set that had the good ole boys tapping their boots Chawville Junction left the stage and the people began chanting for Kyle Deerbone. Fine looking white ladys in tight jeans, they're pussies outlined by rises of blue demin, and they had shirts that said things like "I would fuck Kyle Deerbone."
This just fed his rage, how about talented and real artists like Andrew McFing? Motley bet she wouldn't fuck McFing. Would she fuck Philip K Poe? Probably not, not that country lady with the tight pants camel toe. She might fuck Chris Titan, if she was as drunk as she is now and if Titan is wearing a Kyle Deerbone t-shirt.
Motley began working his way into the Mosh pit in front of the stage where they pass around moonshine and wail at anything the singer says. A low pitched synth drone had started. The red necks started screaming and cheering. Motley elbowed his way closer still. Suddenly the monotonous drone of the synth pitched up and began playing the Star Spangled Banner.
The audience took off their hats and held them to their chests, some threw redneck Nazi salutes. This display made Motley wish he had brought a bomb rather than a handgun, maybe some nice poisonous gas. The Engine Revvers walked onto stage amid a din of audience noise. Motley waited and watched, heart trembling, knowing this could start a wonderful new trend. Killing bad stars!
Six beautiful all American girls emerged onto the stage. They were all topless and pulling a combination dime store Indian and the golden tomb of King Tut. The dime store sarcophagus opens and Kyle Deerbone is inside. He raises his arms like a menacing mummy and the ladies scream and moisten.
Motley raises up his hand gun and he fires three times, each shot catching Deerbone in the torso, each three to five inches apart. The country music star plummets backwards. There was the squelch of feedback and shocked silence.
Motley dropped his gun on the floor and headed for the nearest exit while the few seconds of shocked silence erupted into a riot. A perfect end to an imperfect day, and the assassin gets away.
