Nobody noticed anything unusual when the Black Metal Band, Infinite Torment, played their first and second sets at the Texas Metal Bar on Lover’s Lane in Dallas.
Their drummer, Thoth-Amon, had called them to say he wouldn’t be coming because of a stomach bug but they had a drum machine and everything sounded great.
The club manager, Bill, had remarked that they looked tired, but you know how musicians are, they probably had partied till 3 in the morning the previous night. He wondered whether black metal bands got as many groupies as regular metal bands. He assumed they did, because there were always women clamoring for their attention when they hit the stage. After the last set he offered the band members free drinks and introduced them to some of his regular customers. He didn’t like black metal himself, but it was becoming more popular and he was able to fill the club most nights.
“Greg,” he yelled, “how the hell are ya?”
“Get your ass over here, come meet the new band.”
“This is ‘Infinite Torrent’ He said
The bands’ guitarist looked confused.
“It’s ‘Infinite Torment’ He corrected.
“Oh sorry about that,” he apologized.
“We get so many bands through here.”
Greg walked over to the band and shook their hands.
Their hands were chilly but they had just played a fiery storm on stage.
He frowned but said nothing.
The band sat down at the bar and requested a round of Vodka Shots.
They were sweaty but looked straight ahead with blank expressions.
Greg supposed that they were tired.
“You guys must be exhausted.” He remarked.
The lead guitarist grunted.
Greg thought that was unfriendly. These guys must think they are superstars, he thought to himself. He ordered another beer and eyed them suspiciously.
The beer took the edge off the horrendous flashbacks he was having about catching his wife in bed with another man that very evening . In fact she had flaunted it. It took all his strength to keep his mind off the bitch. She wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to throw it all away on a pathetic act of revenge, but then again it was Texas.
As his thoughts flooded away from the bar he heard the lead singer grunt again.
He must have gas, Greg thought.
It was then that he noticed he was alone in the bar except for the band members.
The funny thing was that they were staring at him. Their untouched Vodka shots sitting neatly on their cocktail napkins. Their faces were still painted that ghastly white that he supposed must be that awful corpse paint that was so popular with the bands that played this club. Greg knew he was too old too be hanging around these types of clubs. This wasn’t his scene, but Bill was a good friend, and he had nowhere else to go, especially since his wife….
“Fuck it,” he said out loud.
He felt a bit wasted now.
“What the hell are you looking at?” He called over to the band members.
The Lead Singer, Kull, looked straight at Greg, and snarled.
The band stood up and walked over to Greg.
“What the hell,” he screamed.
They surrounded him and pulled his arms and legs from his torso.
He screamed in horror as they chewed pieces of his flesh in front of his very eyes.
They left him as they had found him, sitting at the bar alone.
They poured him a fresh beer and set it on the napkin in front of him.
They walked out of the bar with their glazed eyes shining.
The night was young, and they had autographs to sign.
______________________
©2010 Melanie Browne
Melanie Browne’s work has been published in various journals including Word Riot, Bartelby Snopes,Deuce Coupe,Five Fishes Journal, Glossolalia, and Ink, Sweat and Tears. She has work forthcoming in 34th Parallel, and The Northville Review. Her first Chapbook, Heaven is a Giant Pawn Shop, is published by Erbacce Press. She has a new Chap forthcoming by Bygawd Books. She lives in Texas with her husband and children.
Tags: Melanie Browne
August 18th, 2010 at 12:01 am
Hey Mel,
I can hear those poignant electric guitar strings and drum beat. Good idea never to screw up a band name like Infinite Torment. Yikes! Reminds me of this clothing store in Laredo called Torrid, but I always think its called Horrid. Ha. I wonder if the store owner knew if she’d come after me with an axe?
Cool story. Poor sap, atleast they left him a beer. Don’t mess with THE MAN. He bites. Hard.
<3
August 18th, 2010 at 3:33 pm
Thanks Jodi! I figured it was the least the zombies could do.lol.