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The Rave (Short Story)

Rick Masters hated raves. He couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why some people were so fond of them. The annoying flashing, multicolored lights, the blaring “music” and most of all, he hated the throngs of drunken idiots they attracted. Rick was a man of relatively simple tastes, preferring quiet sophistication to loud, ecstasy-fueled debaucheries.

Unfortunately, his friends didn’t share his tastes and his girlfriend loved raves. So, when his friends and girlfriend decided to head out for a night on the town, he was more than a little disappointed when they asked him to come along. Refusing meant excommunication from his circle of friends, which he could live with, because they’d soon forget and be right back to inviting him out for more Saturday night fun the very next week. His girlfriend, however, stated rather adamantly that he would never again see anything below her belt if he didn’t consent to having his mind, ears and soul thoroughly violated.

Well, those weren’t her exact words but that’s what they sounded like to Rick’s ears.

So consent he did. Feigning interest in the upcoming shenanigans as he reluctantly squeezed himself into the back seat of his friend’s sedan. He hated riding in the back seat. Rick was fairly tall and could never get comfortable squished behind the front passenger seat. He cursed his friend Joshua for suggesting that they carpool to save money. The bastard. Of course he would be the one to drive, getting to sit in the comfort of the driver’s seat, having made the suggestion.

The trip to the club was fairly short. Rick jumped out of the car as soon as it came to a complete stop to stretch his legs and back before they threatened to cramp on him. Actually, a cramp wouldn’t be too bad, as he wouldn’t have to dance.

His girlfriend under his arm, Rick and his two friends walked to the door, the bouncer and a long line of potential drunken idiots awaited them. Fortunately, or unfortunately, in Rick’s case, Derek had called ahead and gotten them on the VIP list, so they were able to walk straight in.

Rick really wished those VIP lists were more difficult to get on.

Rick sighed as he entered the smoky confines of the club and instinctively headed toward the bar, figuring that, if he was going to be subjected to this inhumane mental torture, he’s going to do it buzzed. “At least this way,” he thought. “I’ll probably kill enough brain cells to forget the bulk of this nonsense by tomorrow”.

His girlfriend, noticing him ogling the alcoholic beverages behind the bar, immediately caught him and asked him to dance with her. In that instant, he wanted to strangle her but exercised an uncanny level of restraint and smiled, telling her that he’s be a far better (and more willing) dancer after he had a few drinks in him. His girlfriend agreed and let him go while she, Derek and Joshua walked onto the dance floor.

Rick leaned on the bar counter, handed the bartender his credit card and asked for a Screwdriver and requested it be made with Smirnoff vodka, his personal favorite. He swears he only picked it as his favorite to spite those Grey Goose drinking snobs paying twice the price or more for the same damn drink. He hated those people.

Rick was very antisocial.

When the bartender sought to put the nearly empty bottle away, Rick stopped him, saying he’d finish it off. The screwdriver went down quickly, burning his throat and ticking the inside of his nose. He refilled his glass with the vodka and downed it again. He could feel a buzz staring already.

That’s the feeling of brain cells dying.

Rick looked out over the dance floor, scoffing at the glittering of various chains, dog collars and bodily piercings as well as the amateur light shows people were putting on with their glow sticks and LED light pens. He spotted his friends on different parts of the floor. Joshua was demonstrating his total inability to dance, Derek was trying to get a girl’s phone number, as per his usual and some stranger was talking to his girlfriend.

Rick wasn’t one to immediately jump to conclusions so he refilled his glass, emptying the bottle, and watched the two of them, taking sips every few moments. Rick thought the stranger was trying to get her to leave with him but wasn’t sure. He didn’t take his eyes off of them, even when a girl with glowing eyes (obviously a pair of contacts reacting to the club’s black light) walked past him.

As he finished his drink, he decided to try to get a closer view of the action. He placed the glass back on the counter and reached into his wallet to give the bartender a five dollar tip, still refusing to take his eyes off of the stranger with his girlfriend.

Rick walked to the dance floor, taking care to remain out of sight as he made his way through the sea of people dancing or making very poor attempts at dancing.

“Come on baby, you know you want to go home with me.” Rick heard the stranger say once he was in earshot.

“How many times do I have to tell you no? I’m here with my boyfriend and I’m not leaving with anyone else.”

Rick smiled. He was sure his girlfriend hadn’t seen him when she said this and this gave him reassurance that their relationship was real.

“Where is this chump of a boyfriend you keep talkin’ about?”

“Right here buddy.” Rick said, patting the stranger on his shoulder as he passed him and went to put his arm around his girlfriend. The stranger was taken aback. He had definitely not expected to see him.

“There are lots of other girls here, bro. Take your pick.” Rick gestured toward his girlfriend. “She’s spoken for.”

Rick’s girlfriend smiled under his arm and leaned closer to him. The stranger, however, was not so pleased.

“I’ll show you who’s spoken for!” The stranger yelled as he threw a punch in Rick’s direction. Rick released his girlfriend and was able to sidestep the drunken, ill-aimed, punch and quickly counter by elbowing the stranger in his nose. Rick wasn’t the type of guy that lived at the gym or went out and started fights for his personal amusement but he was more than capable of defending himself if provoked.

The stranger staggered backward, examining his bloody nose. There was a collective gasp among the surrounding dancers which seemed to reverberate throughout the club. The fight was on.

Or…it would’ve been on, had the bouncers not gotten wind of the impromptu fisticuffs and swiftly grabbed the two of them and threw them out of the front door. Rick was glad, despite landing fairly hard on the cold concrete. He was out of that miserable place and free to leave if he wished. Naturally, his girlfriend, followed by Joshua and Derek rushed out after him. Derek and Joshua, being their usual nosy selves, immediately requested a play by play recap of what they just missed. Rick’s girlfriend helped him to his feet, as the vodka was beginning to take its toll on his coordination. He had always held his liquor well but with as much of it as he’d had, getting around was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“Damn man, what happened?” Derek asked.

Rick was about to respond when suddenly, the stranger jumped up and flung a thin piece of rope around Rick’s neck. Instinctively, before the man could get a good enough grip on him, Rick threw his head back, landing squarely on the stranger’s already injured nose, breaking it. Blood flowed freely from the stranger’s nose and his grip on the rope broke. Rick instantly spun around and hit the bleeding stranger across the face with his clenched fist, knocking him to the ground and solidly unconscious.

Rick looked at the bouncer. “You might want to call an ambulance for this guy.” He said and turned to his friends again, all of whom, were staring at him incredulously. “You guys can probably go back in there if you want. I can catch a cab home or something.”

“Nah. The party was pretty weak anyway.” Joshua said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. “Besides, you probably have to get outta here before the cops show up.”

Rick smirked as they walked away from the club, towards Joshua’s car. As they reached the car, Rick’s girlfriend hugged and kissed him, thanking him for stepping in to defend her honor and their relationship, calling him her Knight in Shining Armor. Rick smiled as he opened the front door for her, seeing the wink his girlfriend gave him as she sat down inside. As Rick shut the door behind her and squeezed himself into the always uncomfortable back seat once more, he was certain of one thing.

He was definitely getting laid tonight.

2 comments

  1. […] I’ve taken the liberty of creating a separate page just for that story so in the future, it will always be easy to find on the sidebar or by clicking this link. […]


  2. Hey nice story. I usually don’t take time to read too long of content that is not from school work/books but you’re story was interesting.

    It interested me because my world is built around “Raves”. There can be idiots, people who drink way too much and do other things, but there are still a lot of good people who are strictly for the music, dancing, and to have a good peaceful time. The media and ‘noobs’ who get out of control in the rave scene make the good part of the scene look really terrible.

    Yeah a lot can’t dance and/or know how to give proper light shows, but as long as they feeling the music and enjoying it what ever.

    Anyhows, I’m sorta like you with being anti-social abit. It is life that made me that way.
    I never danced and thought of myself as one that wouldn’t, but it’s my biggest hobby and passion now. Btw, I’m also black, grew up in some rough areas, but I got introduced to Raves when I moved to a smaller town, and it turned my life around big time. I managed to embrace rave music along with my other passion of reggae and old school hip hop.
    🙂

    Anyhow hope you don’t mind me posting and the long comment.

    Maybe some time you’ll come back to Raves, representin, dancing all night, and give the Rave Scene a better image than it has gotten.
    Take care.



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