But what are you going to do? When Electric Fever, thequirkiest, cultiest, Japanese punk rock band that ever existed suddenly showsup in town, you drop whatever the hell you're doing and get your ass to theshow.
Things wouldn't be so bad if Electric Fever hadn't beenexactly what they were, snotty, self-involved cokeheads with a complete lack ofregard for their fans. Clara supposed you could afford to be that way if youonly ever toured once or twice every four years. She had showed up at 11 withher boyfriend Courtney, hoping to sneak in, down a few drinks, and catchElectric Fever's set, but when she had showed up, the first opening band wasonly just hitting the stage.
They were a lackluster local act; the type of band thatonly played gigs in local venues because they couldn't afford to call in sickto their day jobs the following morning. Clara and Courtney listened to onesong; they were thoroughly unimpressed, so they walked up to the bar, orderedsome PBR's, and stood there sipping them while trying to have a conversation,which was nearly impossible amid the eardrum-splitting feedback blasting out ofthe clubs speakers. The club was relatively new and had the smell of "soonto close" all over it. That's the way clubs were in the city; here oneweek and gone the next.
When Electric Fever had finally hit the stage, afterthree more forgettable punk rock acts, they were just as billed. The leadsinger had stormed onto stage, chugged a beer, and then threw the empty can athis adoring fanbase, all while giving the middle finger to the crowd. His namewas Ace Fever, the coolest Japanese man that had ever existed. It was a wonderhow he was still alive. Behind him, Hey Fever, the drummer, and Jungle Fever,the bass player entered in matching leather outfits. The studs and bucklesglittered underneath the multicolored lights that hung over the stage andturned mere mortals into momentary gods.
The crowd had surged forward, and they hadn't even playeda note yet. Ace Fever stood on the stage, regarding the crowd from behind hisdark sunglasses, his arms crossed. With his left arm, he slowly reached for themicrophone, and when his fingertips touched the mic, Electric Fever sprung intoaction, assaulting the audience with a barrage of unintelligible distortion,screaming Japanese, and electric guitar fury. Flames shot out of Ace's micstand and the room began to naturally spin in a fury of twisted limbs andenergy as a circle pit turned the middle of the dance floor into asweat-slicked meat grinder. She loved every second of it, even if she had noidea what the band was saying. It was actually better that way. There were nowords to get hung up on, no meanings to ponder. There was just fury and feedback.
Clara's boyfriend Courtney loved it every bit as much asher. He was a little rough around the edges, and he still hadn't warmed up todating a potential lawyer, but when you had been going out as long as they had,you overlooked the fact that one of you had turned into a sellout. Her hair wasa natural color now, for the first time in years, a cocoa brown. She had takenall of the metal out of her face, and she was thankful that Courtney had talkedher out of getting her ears gauged years ago, or else she'd be sporting bigfloppy earlobes.
She smiled as she caught a glimpse of Courtney spinningon the other side of the pit, his eyes feverish with joy. Suddenly, a faceappeared in front of her. It had red-rimmed eyes, snarled like Billy Idol, anddidn't seem quite right. She shoved the man away, and sped along on her ownroute, counterclockwise, always counterclockwise.
She tripped over the shoe of one of the people lurking onthe edge of the circle. Clara's effort to catch her balance went for naught whenher foot slipped on the beer-slick dance floor. Her ankle twisted outward, andshe felt a pop. She went sprawling to the ground, not even noticing the burn ofthe knee she scraped on the laminate floor due to the intense pain in herankle. The hands of the people in the pit pulled her to her feet and usheredher off to the side. She leaned on the shoulder of a stranger, grimacing inpain; she turned around to see Courtney struggling with the man that she hadshoved away in the pit.
From her vantage point, she could see that the man didn'tbelong here. His flannel shirt and camouflage hat had the reek of hillbillyabout them. She moved to help Courtney, but her first step was one of agonizingpain. Her ankle simply wasn't working right.
All she could do was scream and point as the hillbillysunk his teeth into the side of Courtney's face. Courtney lashed out at theman, punching him in the jaw with his fists. The hillbilly pulled back, takinga bite of Courtney's cheek with him. The fury of the pit had stopped, andElectric Fever, noticing the oddity of a still pit, stopped playing.
Courtney stumbled backwards, his hand held to his face."What the fuck?" Blood seeped through his fingers, as the lightsoverhead continued to display an alarming array of different colors. First hisblood was black, then it was blue, then it was yellow. The hillbilly stood atthe edge of the pit, chewing, and seemingly lost in the process.
Ace Fever sauntered across the open space, his microphoneclutched in his hands, the crowd watching with anticipation. In broken English,he challenged the hillbilly, "You want to fight? You fucker fightme!" He stood at the ready, and finally the hillbilly's eyes seemed tofocus on him. It shambled towards him, and Ace backhanded the man across theface, whipping the man's head to the side and knocking his camouflage hat tothe ground. But he kept coming. Ace
