Featuring Scott Mullins from ThisIsWriting.com
It was hot. A woman’s sweaty arm brushed passed Rick’s. It was a bit disgusting, but the coolness of it was a welcome relief. Rick jumped up to try to spot Tony’s florescent green hat bobbing through the crowd. The dope. They had gone to the comedy festival for 3 years straight, and been hopelessly separated every time. They were lucky they didn’t end up in jail last time. Tony had dropped three hits of acid in the morning. By 10 am, he had jumped onstage during a standup’s routine, screaming something about cows and the apocalypse. Fortunately the standup had been a good sport about it. He rang the big bell that he had up top as a prop, and proclaimed Tony to be the festival’s resident dunce.
Rick was mortified. He hadn’t so much as smoked a cigarette before in his life, much less drop acid. He remembered looking back at the security posted behind the stage, palms brought up to their ears, with somebody probably screaming, “Take him down! Take him down!” By the time they did manage to run out onto the stage, Tony was nowhere to be seen. It took rick 24 hours to track him down, sleeping with some whinos down by the beach. What a mess. Rick didn’t know why he hung out with Tony, honestly.
Familiarity he supposed, as he wove through the seething swarm of sweaty drunks and strangers. Tony if anything, had consistently been there, even if that meant being a consistent mess. Rick made his way around the blue portapottys, to a gigantic bin full of empty beer cups. It reeked of plastic and stale beer. Rick frowned when he spotted glass perched atop the heap. There was a sign. Plastic only, bottle went over there. Dumbasses. And then it happened.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” belted over the P.A. for the nearest stage. There was no mistaking. It was Tony. Rick ran around the corner. A woman had a box of wine over her head and was chugging it. When she finished, white wine ran down her mouth and onto her breasts. She yelled out a battle cry like a Viking goddess.
“Knock, knock…” said the still not visible inebriated voice of Tony on the stage.
Oh god thought Rick, as he kept running. He imagined choppers launching off of pads, police on radios, speeding cars.
Rick pushed his way through the crowd some more until he spotted it. The green hat.