The Prom Goer's Interstellar Excursion by Chris McCoy Page A

true.”
    â€œI can’t see you.”
    â€œThen apparently the song you just sang is wrong,” said the heckler. “I guess I can hide.”
    â€œCoward,” said Skark. “Insulting me and then refusing to show yourself. Where are you?”
    No response.
    â€œIt better not be Ferguson out there harassing this band,” said Skark. “Is it Ferguson? I know it’s Ferguson.”
    Ferguson?
    â€œIt’s not Ferguson,” said the voice. “But the band was better when Ferguson was in it, if you ask me.”
    â€œ Cower in the crowd all you want, poltroon,” said Skark. “But this Friday afternoon we’re playing the Dondoozle Festival, and we’ll have a whole new set of material.”
    Cad and Driver looked at each other. The idea of having a new set of material by Friday seemed to be news to them.
    â€œWho the hell plays the opening slot?” said the voice. “Didn’t you used to close festivals?”
    Skark climbed an amplifier at the front of the stage, holding the mike at his side and staring into the crowd, searching for his accuser.
    â€œ Somebody has to open the festival,” he said. “It’s an honor. ”
    â€œNobody cares about the opening act,” said the voice. “ You guys suck.”
    â€œTonight is a warm-up for our true glory ,” said Skark. “A warm-up you don’t deserve, based on these outbursts.”
    The crowd grumbled.
    Cad leaned into his microphone and tried to do damage control.
    â€œYou actually do deserve it,” said Cad. “We love you. Sorry about Skark. Let’s move forward and give you a good sho—”
    â€œDon’t you dare apologize for me,” said Skark. “If you want to continue the show on your own, you’re more than welcome to, but I’m done. Good night. ”
    Skark kicked down his mike and stormed away from the stage, grabbing his Spine Wine off an amplifier as he disappeared into the wings, the audience booing him in his wake. Food and beverage containers rained down on the stage. Cad watched Skark go, then turned back to his microphone and spoke again, dodging cans and tubes of meat.
    â€œI’m sorry ,” he said. “I’m as angry as you are. Full refunds will be offered at the door….”
    Driver shook his head at Cad. We can’t do that.
    â€œFull refunds will be offered eventually ,” said Cad. “We’re running a little tight at the moment.”
    I saw audience members working in teams to rip seats from the floor, pushing and pulling until the chairs broke free. They lifted them above their heads, and furniture poured onto the stage as Cad and Driver bolted for the wings. If ever there was a band that needed to break up, it was this one. I just hoped it didn’t happen until I found Sophie.
    Getting probed would have been better than dealing with these guys.

    Backstage, Skark and Cad were screaming at each other as the roadies and Driver stood around bored, having seen this display many times before. I lingered off to the side, munching on an appetizer that tasted like a crab cake but looked a bit like a marshmallow Peep. I was annoyed with myself for not possessing any culinary talent—if I had kitchen skills, maybe I would have been able to reverse engineer some of this food and open an artisanal small-plate restaurant if I ever got back home. Another employment opportunity if and when I didn’t get into college.
    I licked the crumbs off my fingers and waited for the drama to settle so I could get back to the business of finding Sophie.
    â€œYou cannot keep stopping our shows to yell at hecklers,” said Cad. “Especially one who is telling the truth. The last time we were here, we did play the same set list, and the crowd knew that fact because these are the only fans we have left. And what about telling the crowd we’ll have an entire new set of material at Dondoozle?