Peter Parker - Swallow The Rockets
Another day at the office then, okay lets go, pedal to the metal and a short while later I reach my destination.
"Alright chief, how you doing? Good night last night?"
Complete silence and not a reply in the offing, I venture onwards.
Going inside, the place still stinks as always like someone's bad breath. I'm used to it, this is my gig and how I earn my dubloons.
I pay particular attention to avoid the sticky dance floor which is soaking in last night's endeavours. No cleaners in here, was a stipulation of the job advert, applicant must be used to the odd stench or two and not mind a living, changeable and thriving workplace.
Met the boss at the interview, he didn't talk much, but he gave me a wink and seeing as no other person turned up I assumed that I got the job. Fantastic. Turned down everywhere else, I was going to do my level best for the chief.
Now I'd done all the advertising and marketing; music nights that you'll never experience again in your life. I knew my remit, it was to make sure it was an unforgettable lasting one for everyone who attended. I went about my piece, listened to more music than is healthy and that was that, time to be a shit hot dj.
Deep inside, it's quite an impressive place, you learn to live with the foibles of the floor sometimes moving of its own accord. Frightened the life out of me first time it happened when I was getting used to the surroundings but then this isn't no ordinary workplace.
And so the time came, people lining up outside, they filtered in one by one, marvelling that there just wasn't any nightspot quite like it. "It's so lifelike", "It stinks in here" and such were the comments from the people out to party.
Not to disappoint, I set about my place, got my stuff rigged up and started with a couple of bangers that got the people rocking. Then I pulled out my secret gem, 'Swallow The Rockets' by Glaswegian guitar poppers Peter Parker. They won't know what hit them after I drop this bomb on the dance floor. Prepped and ready, first ever play, I drop the bomb and the crowd love it and no wonder, from the addictive punky guitar pop, punchy rhythm section and shouty vocals the crowd can't get enough and there's the signal.
The crowd in a thronging cohesive whole, hands in the air as one, it's time.
With a slight tremble at what I'm about to do I think "this is what I'm paid to do, the boss needs his feed".
I press the button and within a second, everyone has vanished. They have not gone on to better things. I tidy up, gather my belongings and make my way. Avoiding the sharpness of the tooth at the exit I take down all the accoutrements outside and reveal the boss.
Yet again, no answer.
"Same time tomorrow night?"
And, as I finish, this great hulk of a beast, spouts a geyser of hot red liquid.
"Quit daydreaming and get that review ready!"