God Mic
Thirty dirty theaters were all abandoned, left to dry out without demolition but I finally found the one. The one playhouse that I can play and decay in also has a functioning god mic. The balcony can collapse like the Balkans during the Yugoslavia breakdown and it’d be fine with me. Former owner was a pastor that should be indicted for what these precious chairs and curtains have become, ain’t ever seen velvet turn into spanish moss before. Depressed desperate man is giddy with joy because he ain’t ever held control of anything before! In the control booth, some comfort was found in life like a prayer came true. An internal list of demands is being curated while the first order in command is getting ready to be spewed out through the god mic. Any ghosts in here is in trouble, everyone of them is trouble! The doors are locked with no where to go anymore; I need to make sure you aren’t living to fuck up another theater. There are no more colors on the walls or the ceiling because y’all are the ones that are eating the paint like nacho chips. Let me smite you til your blind and can’t see. Can’t you see that you left this place all hollow and empty. Don’t run off ahead of me, I must smite you until there’s no spunk left. The spunk should splatter back into the walls and ceiling to bring the hope that was once here during the landboom. This auditorium is designed like a cheesegrater and I don’t like it. I’m outlawing big chunks of cheese from the concession stand immediately, don’t people know that cheese is the same as dope. I think the government is hiding that it wasn’t the heroin that killed Jimi hendrix, it was the government cheese. I feel like a carefree king of the world in this control both. Johnny Carson, David Letterman, or Tom Snyder could be down there on the stage and i’ll still be up here telling them to make it better. The smell in this theater had to have lingered for longer than many were born. This place is now dirty but it was even dirtier in the 60s. Not even two decade since world war two ended and this theater decided to show the dirtiest pornography show that the sixties has ever seen. This place that once sat twelve hundred people had the whole audience leaving and the next day after that showing, twelve hundred people were lined up for a refund. It took the seventies to get this place up and running. Blooming talent like Meatloaf, Badbrains, Black Flag, and The Ramones wafted out the remains of that incident. Being in this control booth after a while is a bit funny and weird. It’s no fun that no one else is here, so you have to envision them here. I just can’t stop envisioning them being here seated. I’m being not serious but serious. Everyone seated is now my responsibility, which is a chore. This ain’t looking too great now, are they reenacting the walk out that happened in the sixties? It’s my duty to keep them from leaving. I walked in here today expecting it to be abandoned but I think I walked in on the stage manager abandoning a packed playhouse. Whoever is supposed to be preforming tonight is fucking late! These people are angry and complaining that the escalator stopped working. It should just be steps now but i’m scared that the cops will consider this as a hostage situation. Anger comes from sadness and I have to reverse it like the scores on an arcade machine after it’s reset. I better start stalling with some singing before they crucify me! These songs ain’t mine that i’m singing and I don’t care. Tony Clifton made a living like this and he was a sad sorry man. I’m making some happy but the others turned on me unlike my own son. I can’t thing of any other songs I can sing. For the people remaining, I remind them that love is all we have. The people dying outside this auditorium is because they didn’t love what they have. I’m not the bad guy who will let you forget about that. You come to this theater to forget about death. A nice dinner was eaten before or will be eaten after you leave but don’t leave me now. Impressive dressing at the theater, don’t waste it before the party begins. The desperate man is making promises of a parade that he can’t make come true. Last leaving people didn’t even let me get a word in, I wanted to thank them. Lost control of the god mic in the control booth, first time in charge of anything.