The Last Concert

Excited chatter echoed throughout the stadium. People of all ages loaded heavily into the building as Damned If I Do Ya played on the overhanging speakers, the drums and base overwhelming to those just stepping through the double doors. Jeff Maker could be spotted on the stage, adjusting the lighting as Danny Kurily stood just barely in sight, tuning Zack's bass.
"Tickets, please?" The usher in the front scanned each individual's ticket, checking thoroughly for counterfeits and making sure no one squeezed passed him without permission.
This was the last show of the tour, meaning it was bound to be the most insane.
As the rest of the crowd filed in, Jeff Maker retreated to his usual spot, leaving the lights positioned correctly along the edges of the stage. The crowd grew anxious as they realized Damned If I Do Ya had been cut off from the speakers, and their conversations quieted down as the lights on stage came up.
Suddenly, the entire stadium blacked out. There were cries of confusion drowned out by several thousand ecstatic screeches emitting from fangirls among the crowd. There was static in the speakers as the lights on stage flickered on and off, and the crowd jumped in excitement as the static grew louder and louder, until they could feel it bouncing around in their heads and bodies. Though just as quick as everything came on, the building grew dark once again.
The suspense built up in everyone's chest; from the audience, to each band and crew member.
It was time.
"Hurry man, get out there!" Jack urged his bandmate, shoving Zack Merrick forward until he was right beside the doorway to the stage. The buff bass player shot a glare at his skunk-haired friend, taking a few steps back and facing the band's drummer.
"Break a leg out there," Rian encouraged. Zack grinned as Alex, the lead singer, patted his shoulder.
"I'm ready."

Screams and shrieks could be heard miles out of the stadium as Zack strolled through the door, his best poker face in place. He kept his mouth in a straight line, his brow furrowed and his chest puffed out. As he grew nearer to the center of the stage, he pulled his bass strap over his head and rested it on the ground. The crowd cheered louder.
Matt Flyzik came through the door right behind Zack, Rian at his side as they rolled a twin sized bed onto the stage. They allowed it to roll to the front center of the stage before kneeling down to pull the wheels off, and once they were off of the stage Zack took his place at the middle microphone. He stared blankly at the shiny metal. This was usually Alex's microphone. Zack swept his empty stare across the entire audience, soaking in the sight of every face in front of him. He took a deep breath, leaning toward the microphone until his upper lip was brushing it. Then, he spoke.
"Bedtime."
The crowd erupted in enthusiastic shouts as Zack fell backwards, landing awkwardly on the fresh sheets of the twin sized bed and closing his eyes as tight as he could. After a few moments in a tense state, he relaxed his face and curled his body into a ball. The lights in the building turned out, and the static on the speakers faded. The crowd went wild as Zack fell into a deep sleep, climbing onto the stage and calling out profanities as they dove into their peers, surfing as far back as they could go. One fan in particular stood on the stage, and as the light hit them they flung their arms out in front of them. They danced a full round of the Macarena right before leaping into the mass of dancing people. Following that fan's example, the entire audience broke into waves of Macarena. They turned and swayed every which way, and while they danced their hearts out no one sang a word.
Four hours this crazy cycle continued, but it was when Zack awoke that things became too much. The man's eyes slid open, and he found himself sitting up very slowly until he was perched right at the edge of the bed. All of the eyes were directed on him. He knew what they wanted, what they were needing. He rose completely, dusting his jeans off as he once again, for the last time, approached the microphone.
"...Party."
That was when everyone in the building lost it.
Chairs, tables, toilets. Everything was thrown around in a fit of violence. The fans had gone out of control. Zack inhaled deeply as he watched people, pulling knives from their pockets and slitting one another's throats while chanting, "Rome workouts! Rome workouts!"
Flyzik escorted Zack off of the stage for safety reasons, and whole everyone else backstage looked horrified at the scene he remained calm. It was the last show of the tour, he knew what to expect. He nodded to his bandmates as they greeted him with warm smiles. He returned their kind gestures by reaching his arm into the air. Together they whispered, "Ddddddddddd."

Notes