Part 50:
Later That Night, During the Concert
Concrete surrounded his body, but Solomon’s mind was free to wander. In prison he typed tracts of poetry and manifestos and mailed them to fans for copy and distribution. He read books on esoterica and philosophy and became a devout disciple of Aleister Crowley. I only found out later upon his released he’d joined Lapis Exillis, the terrorist organization I accidentally founded.
According to what he claimed tonight, he’d parlayed that and his rock star power to maneuver himself to the head of SpectraCom Holdings Incorporated, the largest and most powerful corporation on the planet. If what Solomon said tonight is true, his power would be limitless. To become a god was all that remained for a man of that stature. I was the only one that could stop it. I ran.
Solomon was on his feet, but drenched almost entirely in his own blood. The music hasn’t stopped. The musicians are trance-like, interacting with each other as if no other action took place on the stage. I knew the song, a 9 minute instrumental that could be dragged out to half an hour if Sado felt impish. All around lights and video screens warped and flailed over the audience. The band was largely in shadow, and hardly a part of the show. The crew don’t have time for any fight that break out on stage. Cables must be plugged in and rigging must be secured, or one of the properties could be damaged like the unprofitable period after James Hetfield wandered into a pyrotechnic.
Solomon is singing, “We have nothing, with the outcast and the unfit.”The crowd loves every second, and he gives himself to them. I’m busy dodging security goons. Nepotism emerges from cover to intercede but he is knocked away. None of this show happens for the audience. For them, there is only Solomon. “Let them die in their misery, for they feel not! Compassion is the vice of kings!” He sings the chorus and they belt it back at him.
“Nuit! Hadit! Ra-Hoor-Khuit!
The Sun, Strength, Sight and light Light;
Nuit! Hadit! Ra-Hoor-Khuit!
The Sun, Strength, Sight, and Light;
These are for the servants of the Star & the Snake.”
I wish I wasn’t afraid for my life, I love this song. I get myself to a clear spot out of the way for any road crew. “Stamp down the wretched and the weak,” sings Solomon. “This is the law of the strong.” He undulates before the audience as he sings. “This is our law and the joy of the world.” As long as I stay low and stationary, the crew and security won’t risk interrupting the show for me. “This is our law and the joy of the world.”
“Nuit! Hadit! Ra-Hoor-Khuit!
The Sun, Strength & Sight, Light;
Nuit! Hadit! Ra-Hoor-Khuit!
The Sun, Strength & Sight, Light;
These are for the servants of the Star & the Snake.”
The song takes a breakdown to let the band jam a little. Solomon sings, “Think not, o king, upon that lie. Thou Must Die. Verily thou shalt not die, but live!” The audience has lost all sense of being.“Now let it be understood. If the body of the King dissolves. He shall remain in pure ecstasy forever.”
It’s been quite some time since Solomon ate laxatives. After prison, he called it crude. Tonight he’s bringing out all the hits. Mounting himself at the edge of the stage, Solomon hangs his ass above the crowd. He yanks down his thong with both hands as diarrhea erupts from his ass in great farting splashes. The audience screams and dances beneath him.
“Nuit! Hadit! Ra-Hoor-Khuit!
The Sun, Strength & Sight, Light;
Nuit! Hadit! Ra-Hoor-Khuit!
The Sun, Strength & Sight, Light;
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