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The Concert

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“But it’s The Adicts ma!” Rozz at the age of 14 cried, teen angst ridden in his voice. He pulled at his purple and green hair shooting daggers at his mid life mother.

“I don’t care if you were going to see Jesus himself, there is no way I’m letting you go to the city alone. On a Wednesday night mind you.” Mrs. Mason finally put her foot down after fifteen minuets of fighting. Rozz looked at his mom, coming to the conclusions that he could never sway her decision.

“This conversation is over!” An exasperated Mr. Mason stated while heading to the small flight of stairs that led from their living room.

And the conversation, despite Rozz’s best interests was finished and there was nothing that he could do about it. Rozz turned around and walked through his clean and well-polished kitchen, and down to his room, the unfurnished basement. He soon lit up a cigarette and a few incants to cover up the smell of tobacco. Looking around at his piles of junk, his beaten up skateboard watched him from the corner.


A brilliant idea came over Rozz. He grabbed his battered board and opened up the storm window conveniently placed under is a milk carton that used to be filled with twelve-inch records that got moved to a dusty shelf in the corner. Rozz felt the chill of the fall night and looked around his room for a jacket.

After fighting through a pile of dirty socks and torn jeans he found a plaid jacket that he brushed off a few times to get the static cling off. He ran up the small staircase to lock the door, then proceeded to put on one of his favorite records and sat on the milk carton until he hears his parents shut their door, meaning that they are now in bed.

It took him no time to throw his skateboard through the small window and hoist himself onto the already dewing grass. He put a plank of wood in front of his window to confirm that no skunks or raccoons would make their way into his sub-level room. Rozz was soon running across his recently cut lawn and landed on the pavement of his sleeping suburban neighborhood. The worn down wheels of his skateboard made a rough grinding noise as he sped down the smooth road on the way to the towns T station.

Rozz’s mind slipped in and out of thoughts of his favorite band coming to Philadelphia. There was absolutely nothing that could stop him from seeing them up close and personal.

After skating some curvy and poorly lit streets, Rozz found himself at the worn down T station. He skated up to the brightly illuminated sign that read the trains stops and pick-ups. 8pm, 9:45pm, 10:30pm and 12:20pm were the latest times that it listed. Upon seeing that he missed the 8 o’clock stop Rozz started wishing that he brought a thicker jacket.

The incline of cement that kept people from walking onto the tracks seemed like the best place to sit. And so Rozz perched, and waited, and watched, and sat for the rusted purplish grey T to come. After some amount of time, and the thoughts of a mosh pit fading in the corners of his brain a horn sounded in the short distance of a mile. Rozz got up and stretched his now frozen bones, and anticipated the arrival of his ticket to freedom.

Sooner then later the giant locomotive stopped in front of his once resting spot and he climbed aboard, with his skateboard held at his hip. The T lurched slowly into the chilled nights air while Rozz was looking for his desired seat. The T was quite abandoned, it reminded Rozz of an old horror movie when the florescent lights flickered ever so slightly.

Soon a preferred seat was found and Rozz sat close to the window, happy to be in a warmer climate.

“10 dollars and 50 cents please.” A voice announced startling Rozz. He quickly fidgeted and looked up to find an old keeper staring down at him with a ticket already in his hand.

“Oh right” Rozz reached into his pocket to realize that he didn’t grab his wallet on the way out the window. “My friends in another compartment have my wallet.” Rozz smiled. “For safe keeping they said.”

The older gentleman didn’t seem as amused by the story.

“Let’s go get it then.”

Rozz was quickly on his feet and opened the compartment door and ‘accidentally’ closed it on the ticket man. He found a metal bar loosely connected to the carts side and lodged it into the doorframe. He then took some spare change from his pocket and also shoved those into the cracks of the sliding door. Rozz knew that on a slow night that they would only have one man collecting money from the passengers, but decided that some heroic pedestrian might try to get Rozz off of the T as well. So Rozz stuck some more change into the slits of the door that led to the next compartment and watched as the man on the other side of the door pound on the scratched and faded window, yelling for Rozz to open the “Goddamned” door. But all that Rozz could do was watch and get angry that he was so dumb for not bringing his wallet. He sat down on the grimy and mud crusted steps and watched as trees and small towns passed his lookout. Soon the large grey beast stopped at a large T station in the center of Philadelphia, and Rozz took off running like a bat out of h***. He didn’t hear anyone yelling for him so once he reached the street he decided that he was safe enough, and started skating to his destination.

The city was still alive despite the vicious weather and the Wednesday night blues. Strong smells from different restaurants floated through the air while unregistered taxis stank up the rest of the air. After a few wrong corners and a few blisters advising themselves onto Rozz’s heels he was finally there, he was finally at Pearl Street.

He stood for a moment and marveled at the tall and beautiful building with characters from A Clockwork Orange standing outside and smoking. Rozz caught himself trying to get into the concert venue through the front door and realized that yet again, he didn’t have his wallet and technically he couldn’t buy a ticket.

A plan was devised in his mind that if he went to the side of the building that he might just find an entrance to the backstage area. Slowly and as casually as he could, Rozz walked towards the small tour busses with all their lights on. Some older and rather scary looking men with bowler hats and full sleeve tattoos were unloading large cases from the back of one of the busses. Rozz watched as one of the men brought everything he picked up into the side of the building.

‘If I grab one of those cases and pretend that I’m one of the roadies then maybe they wont stop me from going into the venue.’ Rozz thought of quickly, and found himself a small tree to lean against to wait for the perfect time. Once one of the men unloaded and the other started to walk inside he slipped towards one of the amps and grabbed the handle on the back of it.

It was incredible how heavy the piece of equipment was, but Rozz sucked it up and tried to look like it was no problem to carry this 200-pound black box. A man held the door open for him and let him go right back stage, and as soon as he walked in another roadie directed to the stage to drop of the piece of equipment. While walking up a short stair case leading to the stage Rozz thought that he was going fall over and break his back, but half way up the second stair the large tattooed roadie took the gear and didn’t take a second glance at Rozz and walked onto the creaking stage. Rozz could hear the rest of the band testing out their instruments and microphones while chorusing check one and check two.

Rozz breathed out a sigh of relief and felt himself getting pulled backwards, and down the two steps.

“Excuse me little brother.” A voice spoke and a man starts walking up the stairs.

“Monkey?” Rozz called, recognizing the lead singer from the many music videos and photos he’s seen. The theme song from A Clockwork Orange starts to play through the loud speakers, and Rozz could hear screams from the not so distant crowd.

“Yes?” Monkey asks while holding his cane much like how Rozz was holding his skateboard. He went to turn around and face Rozz, and the cane slipped from his hand and the metal hand piece collided with Rozz’s temple. The room started to spin, and Rozz’s vision soon turned black, as he got knocked out by his favorite singer of all time.





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