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Thursday, March 28, 2013

Today's #flashfiction #RockinItOnMars

“Bah humbug!”
Santa Claus* #quote


      Today I rode a robot dinosaur into the sunset. I want to do that tomorrow, but I can't because it's a rental. Anyway onto the flash fiction!


Rockin' it on Mars


         Martians hate rock music. I mean really, really hate it. That's a rule. Now, I could someone not caring for or disliking rock music. If it's just something that get's at your nerves then yeah, I could see some hate. But how could an entire species absolutely despise rock music? I read a Martian review that said rock music sounded like the slaughtering of baby animals. I wondered if all their brainpower was devoted to controlling those eight flailing tentacles of theirs on their torso. I thought it needed to be, the way they tugged their slug body along with them.
        Yet my friend Cassandra told me we should play on Mars.
        “Virgil, it'll work. Trust me.”
        “It's suicide.” I told her. Yet I went along anyway. The entire band went along. Cassandra worked in strange and mysterious ways with her ideas. She would come up with an idea, a decision that sounds like it would never work, and somehow, someway it all worked out in the end. A casual observer would say by stupid chance that everything worked out the way she thought it would. But she did it so many times that it defied statistics so I thought her logic existed on a sort of plane of above ours like magic, and that's why she wouldn't explain to us, we couldn't hope to understand.
       Her strange plans is how our underfunded band managed to succeed. “Let's perform here” she would say, it would be some tiny town way out of our way. Then a rock convention is suddenly hosted near that area and the hotels are used there and a bored rock celebrity shows up at our show. We sold tickets, but didn't get famous unfortunately, but that show got us by for awhile. That's why Cassandra is our manager. Kind of. We don't enough money to pay each anyone in the band employable salaries. I'm both guitarist and publicist but I'm not paid that way.
     We all prayed that Cassandra's suicide mission of playing our rock music for the Martians would pay off. It took a lot of money to go there. We knew it would pay off big if they didn't end up attacking us on stage like anyone else that tried. Maybe our band could get on the news for being mauled.
      “I hope you know what you're doing Cassandra,” Kathy, our drummer, said. She looked at all the Martians in the audience. “We put a lot of faith in you, this better work like everything else.” The band didn't ask how she planned for us to successfully play rock music for Martians out of fear. Would we jinx it? Would we just not understand the plan? Besides halfway to Mars we already blew our money on getting her so knowing the plan and not having faith in it would make it very difficult to play.
     “How did you even get such a large crowd to a rock show?” I asked her.
She gave us all a mischievous smile, “Oh, I lied in the advertisements and told everyone we were going to be playing disco.”
     I yelled at her, “Are you insane!?” I then lowered my voice to make sure the audience wouldn't overhear. “If they get mad we couldn't possibly deliver. I don't care if they love disco and that got them in the door. We didn't set up all those cameras to record the first successful performance of rock music to Martians. We set up those cameras to set up those up to record a bloodbath!”
      She giggled. “C'mon, where's all that faith you put in me before? Now please take your places on stage and let me handle this.”
       Cassandra then walked up to the mic and spoke into it. “Attention ladies and gentlemen. I'm sorry but we have deceived you. Today we will not be playing disco, but rather a form of rock music designed for the martian audience, specifically the martian king. We wish he could be here, but of course we're only a small band, so we hope you can be a humble test audience for this new form of music meant to evolve rock into something worthy for your king.”
       She then said to us to the players in the band, “Okay play the song I wrote.”
       “But it's not really all that different!”
       “Trust me, go.”
        We then played our music. And the martians loved it. I wouldn't call that song much of an evolution of anything. We played the other songs she wrote, and the martians loved it. The entire thing was caught on film. As soon as we posted the concert on our website it went viral. The best rock bands couldn't appease the martians yet we did. Of course we asked Cassandra why it worked.
       “Oh, the Martians always loved rock music. I stalked some Martian music critics into a meeting and they were discussing rock music, and in private they loved it. Consistently I found this pattern to be true.  However I wondered why they would say the opposite in public. So I tried to find motive. I found out that the Martian King apparently hated rock music. But also nearly the first of anything he was shown by the humans of type of thing he hated then loved the next. Probably to show off ego. 'I hate this, but I love this, what an amazing thing you Earthlings have shown me!'. Make a show of it. So really the only reason they said they hated rock music was because the king said he hated rock music. Which upon further examination and stalking of the king I found out he actually likes rock music so I decided I would appeal to the king's ego. So once he says yes to this 'evolution' to appease him we'll be golden.”
      After a moment of shock that I shared with the rest of the band I replied, “Wait, you stalked music critics, and the martian king...wait that's why we worked to perform in that town around the royal city and that's where you popped off to? How did you not get caught?”
       She laughed. “Oh, all my plans come from research. A lot of it being illegal and stalking. That time I said I had a dead Aunt I had to go to a funeral for? That was me stalking a celebrity to find out his habits and activities so we could get that gig way back, you know the rock con he went to and the bored celebrity showed up at our show. I sabotaged the event he meant to go to that evening so he had to go ours.”
      “You should stop talking now. I don't want know anymore,” I told her.

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