I.D.

Untitled part

The next morning, Sam and Bruce should be here any... before I could finish my thought there was a knock on the door.

We arrived early at Fest just so we could snag front-row seats. Standing in line my anxiety was peaking. I knew that the alcohol was going to be expensive, so I bought some vodka and mixed it with a bottle of orange Gatorade. I was feeling loose and sociable. The air was charged with electricity, the air was filled with love my expectations for the day were high.

The only problem is that I drank all that I brought with me. I decided to ask some guy I assumed of age to buy me two beers. I pulled out my wallet and flashed a twenty and told him to keep the change. There was a couple (again I assume) next to me, and I offered them a drink. After finishing my beverage, I checked my pocket for my wallet as I was going to purchase another.

I returned to Sam and Bruce. "Hey Luke, this is Zane, we met him while you were gone."

"Hello Lucas, I've heard so much about you." he smiled casually.

I reached out my hand for him to shake it.

He shook my hand for an extended period. His face morphed, his jawsretracted, giving him a wolf-like appearance.

Whatever this was, it wasn't acid. This had me flabbergasted, I felt like prey in the clutches of a trap, first I stood frozen. The muscles in my legs tensed up. One fitful gust could blow me over. When this failed to amend the situation my flight response kicked in; fleet footed I could run and escape from this transforming abomination. I thought about fighting back, and challenging the reason why he held on so long but before I balled up my fist to strike, he began: "I heard about that accident you had," he chuckled. "Remind me to never bring my girl around you, you're a real home wrecker," he nudged me, "just fucking with you." He freed my hand.

"Who's ready to rage?" Zane bellowed. He fit a Go-Pro on his head and turned to me.

"Are you recording me?"

"Actually, I'm live. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life."

We all ran to the stage exhibiting our favorite artist. I didn't want to forfeit my front row spot but I had to take a piss so I walked to the port-o-potty section of the festival. I decided it was time to take a bit of ecstasy. I reached into my pocket to get my wallet, only to grab lent. What the hell? I had lost my wallet containing the ecstasy, did someone pickpocket it while I was in line? At least I had my phone to communicate with Samand Bruce if I need to. I could go to the lost and found but I had an exorbitant amount of cash stashed within, and I doubt anyone would have returned it.

I managed to rummage through the crowd and get the front miraculously. I told the ravers that my friend was hurt and needed assistance. The artist on stage issued a command to start a mosh pit. Amidst the mosh pit there was flailing arms, winding up like windmills, pushing and shouting as well. I was pushed this way and that way. After the rage subsided there was ruggedly handsome boy fighting a mountain of human, A soaring fist struck the taller boy. Security raced to the scene as the people in the crowd were recording. Fixated.

A malicious rhythm was the foundation of the background, it was the beat hidden in the jowls of his soul, it could have, should have been his deathblow.

Zane began humorously dancing around Luke. "Are you streaming right now?" he asked.

"Yessir."

Zane was toking on a blunt and offered it to him. He thought by smokingthe weed he would be relieved his paranoia. He inhaled until his lungs reached full capacity and had a coughing fit.

"Are you alright?" Zane was smiling cordially.

"Yeah, I'm good." The marijuana he had smoke was the icing on the psychedelic cake.