The night the Rhymer went whack

61

The Roman gladiators would sometimes pit many against one another; the audience was never involved in the murderous frenzy—until now.

Well over two hundred thousand, yet a sound could not be heard. Not even the birds or small animals, no coughs or sneezes; it was total silence as Nick stood on stage under the dusky sky. He had ventured on from Africa, satisfied with the maximum strength of the newly attained sounds he needed to complete his quest. Now in a new land, a dark orange hue lit the crowd as they stood with anticipation. Nick looked disheveled and unbathed but to him his soul was clean and in total connection with the crowd, nature and himself. It had taken a while but visiting deep in the heart of the motherland perfected his gift. At least to him it felt like perfection as he mastered octaves, megahertz and rhythms that connected him to time itself. He felt like the reincarnation of every beat that ever existed, every sound ever uttered and every wavelength that had passed through the heavens.

As he looked at the crowd with just he and his mic stand, he stood still. And unbeknownst to the crowd’s anticipation the concert had already begun. An inaudible rumble had previously dislodged a few boulders as they were now rolling toward the outdoor stadium. And a high pitched scream had already disrupted the nearby wild kingdom. Then Nick screeched, then cawed then the crowd frenzied. He held his last note for as long as he needed, just one second before the audience was about to whip into an orgiastic melee. “Can’t you see I set you free; I brought you to the light?” he bellowed, which quickly brought forth the cheers.

He resumed his owl like screech, which pushed the crowd further into hysteria. Continuing, he held that shriek until there was nearly no one left alive. The chaos was overpowering. The stench of blood flooded the nostrils of the wild animals that mercilessly arrived. Their meal, feasting until their bellies were too full to fight the more that followed suit for the same purpose. That vicious cycle continued as Nick stood and watched as the feigned dead were ultimately discovered and eaten alive. Fresh meat was always tastier, combined with the delight of the kill. And Nick, with blood splattered on his pants, shirt and face, took his finger and wiped a bit off of his nose. He licked it, enjoying the taste while adoring the scene before him.