The Devil Wears Groupies

The Devil Wears Groupies“Zander! Dude—that concert rocked!” Bret said, fighting the crowd for the exit. “Bro, what was it? Like—in grade school when they were the shiz-nit?”

“No man! More like kiddygarten. Remember? We used to rock their stuff on vinyl,” he said squeezing through sweaty bodies. “You’d think they’d be geezers by now, but I gotta say—they ain’t aged a day man.”

“It’s all that makeup. Hey dude—wasn’t there a rumor back-in-the-day about KISS being Satanists or some crap?” he said brushing sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Whoa man! Yeah—I remember that. I was soooo pissed cuz momz made me sell all their records—totally forgot! Turns out though, it was just their name. The initials spell out ‘Knight’s in Satan’s Service.’ That’s why it’s in caps. Momz wasn’t havin’ it. She said, ‘Weirdo Satanists in makeup had no place in our home.’ That was before I found her dildo. She couldn’t get to the store fast enough to shut me up.” The exit was just ahead.

“Good times Zane, good times,” he said shaking his head. “Yo—ain’t that the bully Mark? At the door?” The exit sign cast a red glow on his head. “Mark, buddy! How the hell’s it hangin’? You doin’ security?” Bret said a little nervous. Mark used to pick on him in gym.

“Hey ladies! Ain’t seen you turds since—since, what? Highschool? How’s da nutsack douche? You ever get those Spidey-Man jimmies outta your crack?” he bellowed with laughter. “I’m head security for the band.” He banged his chest like Tarzan.

“You always were an over-achiever man.” Zander smirked.

“Gimme-five,” he said, grabbing Bret’s hand, slipping two passes in it as he shook it. Glancing at the next security exit he said, “Guys, sssh! Since KISS is playing here in our hometown—they gave me a couple a backstage passes. No one’s spose to know, ya know? Tell anybody and I’ll bust yer lip.” He clapped Bret so hard on the back he swallowed his gum.

Mark ushered them to the stage entrance. Before they got a chance to thank him, he was halfway back across the hall. “Yo man, he’s still a freak,” Zander laughed, “but how cool are we man? KISS ROCKS!”

Bret looked around the empty hall and said, “Dude? How’d it clear out so fast?”

“Who cares? Let’s go meet ‘em!”

They walked an eternity down a dark hallway that ended up at a door that said ‘KISS’. “Dude, don’t you find this the least bit creepy?”

“Yeah man, but it’s KISS. They’re all about drama. Why you think they wear that makeup?” Zander said, knocking on the door. “Besides, just think of the story we’ll—“ Before he finished his sentence, the door opened a crack and a long tongue slithered itself around his wrist. It pulled him inside with such force that his right shoe was left standing where his former body had been.

“What the fu—“ Was all he said before his fate followed suit.


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