Fire & Hoses

Will the largest rock concert in history proceed without a hitch?

“Sir, we have a problem!” the assistant yelled as he ran to The Manager. “It’s the crop-dusters! They’re on strike!”

“Crop dusters?” answered The Manager, “who the hell ordered crop dusters? This is a rock concert, not some county fair. There’s four million people out there!”

Rod Huddersfield, the manager of Fire & Hoses, loosed an impatient sigh as the assistant continued.

“Sir, they’re refusing to start up their planes unless you double their pay.”

“Well sod them. Looks like there’s no crop dusting today unless the audience does it themselves. What were these guys even supposed to do?”

“No idea sir.”

Huddersfield started to walk away but had nowhere to turn. He’d spent a month planning this concert – an event which should have required at least a year to organize. The Governor, a personal friend, had requested the show. The election looked tight and this political rally disguised as a concert could be the difference on Election Day. He turned and saw D-Man, the bass player approaching. His trademark spoon danged around his neck.

“Was this your idea?” Huddersfield asked.

“What?”

“Crop dusters.”

“Not me, man. Were they going to spray drugs on the crowd and get everyone high?”

“How the hell should I know? Mind if I get some of that?”

With a knowing glance, Huddersfield reached into D-Man’s shirt pocket and pulled out a baggie while D-Man removed the spoon from around his neck.

“Just a little to get me through until after the show. Then I’m gonna sleep for a month.”

“I hate to be a pain, man, but I have a real problem,” D-Man continued while Huddersfield wiped his nose.

“You and everyone else. What's yours?”

“This whole thing. It’s all wrong. The funk suei is completely off.”

“You mean feng suei?”

“Naw, man. FUNK suei! Everything’s too flat. There’s no atmosphere. No wriggle. We’re Fire & Hoses, man, there’s gotta be a wriggle!”

“Look out there. You can’t even see the back of the crowd. This isn’t a stadium. There is an entire airfield full of people wanting to see you. The Governor got the Commanding General of the entire base to approve this! I have to yell and there isn’t even anyone playing yet. Funk suei my ass. It’s too late to fix it. Wriggle or not, go get warmed up.”

His phone rang.

“Yeah?”

“Doc! Good to hear from you! What’s that? Handsome Dick Manitoba ▶︎

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Manitoba

​ is backing out of his surprise appearance? Why? He’s what? Reforming The Dictators and Manitoba’s Wild Kingdom at the same time? As one band? They don’t even play the same kind of music! Look, Doc, I went through hell to find a green low-rider for him to drive onstage… What’s that? He didn’t even make his flight? Thanks for nothin’, Doc. I’ll remember this.”

Huddersfield ate an antacid and started walking towards catering. Before anyone could even give him three steps, Joey The Intern came running up. How do we even have an intern? He wondered. This is supposed to be a tour!

“Sir!” the kid began. “It’s Evan…”

“Again?”

“Flatlined.”

“Goddammit. That’s the third time this week.”

“He was nervous about the show. He’s never drummed in front of a crowd this size.”

“Nobody has. Have the paramedics revived him?”

“Yeah. He’s alive again.”

“Can he play?”

“No way.”

“OK. Tell Mikey that he’s filling in again.”

Mikey was the drum tech. In truth, he was a far better drummer than Evan, but Evan had been friends with Flash, the guitarist, since they were kids. Fortunately, Mikey knew all the parts and even looked a little like Evan. They bore close enough resemblance that they had stopped announcing to the crowd when they made the switch.

“Get Evan some water – and make sure it’s not vodka this time!”

He felt bad for the kid. He’s a nice kid, even if a bit dumb. Huddersfield had already made an appointment for him with a rehab center, if he could just finish this leg of the tour alive.

Huddersfied continued his walk towards catering only to be again interrupted, this time by a loud buzzing sound, followed by an explosion and darkness.

“Someone figure out what just happened!”

He sighed. People mulled around in confusion. Huddersfield just wanted to get to catering and get a beer, and maybe a sandwich, but he wasn’t sure he could find it in the darkness. While he pondered the predicament, a small group arrived, using cigarette lighters to guide their way. He groaned. Inside the circle of flames, Lugwrench, the singer, approached. Trailing him was a woman dressed in what appeared to be colorful rags. His psychic.

“Rod, I can’t do it," Lugwrench began.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t sing today.”

“Your voice again? You sound great.”

“No, not my voice. There’s an evil energy about this whole show.”

“Evil energy?”

“We’re not doing it for rock and roll.” He glanced at the woman in the gaudy clothes. “She took a reading. There’s unrest in the spirit world. Bad things.”

“You’re telling me you can’t sing the biggest concert of all time, and it's because of ‘bad things’ in the spirit world.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand. This goes far deeper than your ‘business’ stuff. Besides, you’re just doing this for politics. Since when is Fire & Hoses a political band? Like Ozzy said, ‘I don’t wanna change the world.’”

“Yeah but like Freddy Mercury said, ‘the show must go on.’”

“Well, like what I said… I can’t do it.”

The woman hissed over her shoulder as Lugwrench and his entourage walked off.

I knew I should have booked Metallica for this gig, Huddersfield thought.

Before he could finish the thought, one of the lighting riggers ran up.

“Whats wrong with the lights?” the manager asked, “why aren’t they back up?”

“Llamas, sir.”

“Llamas?”

“The llamas ate the wiring.”

“Wait. What fucking llamas?”

“Remember? Flash wanted a flock of llamas to walk across the stage during his big solo.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“No sir. Flash. He just thinks he’s Jesus Christ. Anyway it gets worse, sir.”

“What now?”

“The llamas started grazing on the wires and shorted out all the electricity for the entire overhead rig.”

“Well fuck my old boots! What else could go wrong?”

“Funny you should ask sir. Well, you see, the wiring. It didn’t agree with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dysentery, sir. Llama dysentery.”

“I’m too old for this shit.”

"At least it he didn't ask for Musk Ox."

"Don't give him any ideas."

“The crowd is eating it, sir. Somehow, word spread that the llama shit would make them trip. Like mushrooms, sir.”

“How can they be so stupid?”

“Well, this IS California, sir.”

Huddersfield decided that if he did reach catering he’d want more than just a beer.

Out in the crowd, rumors spread as the lights went out. Fans, hopped up on sex, drugs, and rock & roll, spread one random idea after another. Disagreements ensued over what happened to the lights. Despite the slogans, peace did not resolve the disputes. Raised voices led to pushing, then to shoving. Before long a full-fledged riot broke loose. More chairs were thrown than at Wrestlepalooza. Concession stands were raided. Food and beverages were the weapons of choice. Someone started a fire; maybe several.

The llama pasture became ground zero. A herd of hungry fans threatened to eat the llamas in retaliation for the concession prices. They didn’t really intend to eat the llamas, nor would any of them known how to butcher one even if they did manage to kill one. The llamas were merely a vehicle for youthful temper tantrum. Opposing them lurked a band of hippies who wanted to save the llamas. The hippies weren’t even Fire & Hoses fans, but the show was trending on social media so they showed up. The irony of rebelling by opposing people who opposed excessive concession prices was lost on them. One fan tried to point this out to them so they called the fan racist until he left.

None of the fans expected the llamas to fight back. Yet they kicked and bit both groups, then the herd of llamas stampeded onto the stage in a bizarre parody of the Guitar Player’s intentions. On their way, they kicked the backdrop loose. Since it was made from Styrofoam, it promptly blew away. The giant prop tumbled across the desert as the llamas calmed themselves and watched the melee from the relative safety of the stage.

The Show did not go on. The Commanding General of the airfield was relieved of duty. He was allowed to resign prior to facing multiple Article 15 charges.

The State paid over a billion dollars in damages, lawsuits, bribes, graft, and other miscellaneous expenses.

The Governor won re-election.