The Dramatic Concert

I'm the sound technician backstage at a friends concert. My hands are on the mixing table, my fingers twiddle on the volumes and frequencies. All of a sudden, the sound starts cutting out, everything is sounding like shit, people start booing. My friend turns around to me, trying to see what had happened while I scramble to get things running again. The performers start to trashtalk the audience, telling them to fuck off while starting to destroy equipment. Things are starting to get agressive.

The music is now nonexistent, everybody is screaming and hissing. I motion to my friend for us to leave, and we run out the back door. My friend is able to escape, but I'm caught by the owner of the establishment, my boss, my childhood piano teacher.

- Miguel! What are you in a rush for? - She doesn't seem to know anything. Just my luck.
- Ahm, hello Mrs. Danish! How are you doing? -
- I'm fine, Miguel, how did the concert go? - I try to feign stupidity.
- Ah, nothing special! I mean... just technical difficulties. So! I have to be off now, see you later! - I dash off to meet my friend, and Mrs. Danish calls after me.

- I will find out what you did, Miguel! And I'll do my job, rest assured! -

I catch up with my friend, who has gathered a gang of thugs to do his bidding. I try to call them off, but they head straight for the concert hall. I'm dragged along in tow.

Before I know it, the whole place is in chaos, thugs harrassing concert-goers, Mrs. Danish and her husband are calling the police, while adolescents get beat up and equipment gets trashed. I yell at my friend.

- The fucking police are coming! Run! - The words are coming out of my mouth as huge, club wielding intervention police stream through the doors. People scream, fists fly, everybody is running. I'm able to escape outside and watch from afar. I think to myself:

- Well, I guess I'm out of a job. -