In the dim light of the bar I watch a dewy bead of condensation lazily decent my pint glass. I nervously scan the bar, quickly moving my eyes around the room. My blood is thick with anticipation. I mentally battle my fear.
Have I made the right choice?
What is going to happen if this all goes wrong?
Will they turn on me? Can I even pull this off?
I have but a moment to push these thoughts away when I hear my name. The voice cleaves through the din of the crowd, it is all I can hear. My heart flutters in my chest as I hop off my bar stool and walk toward the stage. With shaky hands I adjust the mic stand and nod to the throng.
It is too late now. This IS going to happen.
Bathed in the red glow of the neon sign I address the bar with these words "I'm Lemmy, We're Motörhead and You suck!" As the opening riff of "Ace of Spades" begins its auditory Blitzkrieg. For the next three minuets I cease to exist as I become a living conduit, plugged into the primal current of Rock and Roll. The words of the song spill out of me in a voice made of twisted metal and broken glass.
My hands twist and contort over the invisible frets as I wrench the notes out of my nonexistent guitar. With both hands I seize the microphone and hurl the final chorus at the crowd.
As quickly as it started my vocal artillery ceases. My offering to the gods of Rock is complete and now I am just an empty vessel. The scowl fades from my face as I walk with satisfaction, my metal horns high in the air.
Welcome to Karaoke night
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