The drummer battered away at his kit with venomous incompetence, while the guitarist didn’t so much play her instrument as murder it. The singer’s piercing vocals shattered my eardrums. She whirled the mic stand around her head, almost decapitating the guitar player, hollering a song that didn’t have words so much as a series of hugely enthusiastic screams. It was the best gig I’d seen in years.
“Kids, lunchtime!” shouted Mum from the kitchen.
The band abandoned their instruments and ran towards their sausages and mash.
I tidied up the toys.
First published at 101 Words, October 2016.
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