From: friedman@news.cis.ohio-state.edu (Mark  Friedman, Crimson)
Subject: Three of a Perfect Pair [part 07/21]
Organization: The Ohio State University Department of Computer and Information Science
Date: Fri, 31 Jul 1992 05:38:21 GMT

	Freddy seemed to be in a haze as he stepped on the stage for
the night's gig.  He shook his head to try to lose the feeling, but it
stuck with him.  "Must be the rush of success" he mused.

	He walked into the spotlight and the crowd went wild.  The
chicks were screaming their lungs out for him, and it felt great to
Freddy.  He turned around to look at his backing band: two
keyboardists were to either side of the stage, the DJ ("a DJ?!?!?")
was directly behind him, and his lead guitarist was limbering up his
fingers.  The band nodded that they were ready.

	Freddy turned around to face the crowd again.  This cued the
dancers to enter from both sides ("Wait a sec, do I have
*dancers*!?!?").  The arena was packed to capacity plus a little more.
It was more people than he'd seen in his life, he thought.

	He had an odd feeling and asked the guitarist about it.  "Hey,
where's my Chapman Stick?  I think I lost it somewhere..."

	The rocker made a funny face.  "What's a Chapman Stick?  You
just sing and play acoustic guitar.  Heh."

	Freddy shrugged.  "Oh.  Do I?"  He wiped his sweaty palms on
his spandex ("But I don't *wear* spandex!!!")  and grabbed the
microphone.

	"GOOD EVENING SEATTLE!!!"  he yelled.  The crowd screamed in
response.  A simple 4/4 drum pattern started.  Freddy smiled and
continued: "We got a little song we'd like to start off with.  It's
got a good beat and it's easy to dance to..."

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Freddy woke up screaming, covered in a cold sweat.  "Bloody
hell!" he cursed and wiped his forehead with the tail of his flannel
shirt. Apparently, he had fallen asleep on his couch after coming back
home to get his gear.  He'd had the nightmare before, and it usually
came after he drank too much.  He wondered why he never learned
better.

	He stood up and walked into the bathroom.  After washing off
his face with warm water he looked into the mirror.  "Man, I look like
shit."  He felt like it too.  He sighed and looked at his chronometer.
"Crymineeee!!!"  He was late for his gig.  Very late...

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Freddy staggered into Evil Irving's, gear in hand, and went
backstage.  He whipped his Chapman Stick out of its case and applied
the belt hook.  He then jacked his Roland PR-128 into his head and
plugged the stereo outs from both the Stick and the tone module into
his wireless unit.

	He walked to the side-stage entrance and nodded to the sound
man.  "Howzit goin', Eddie-Baby?".

	"Geeez, Freddy, you gotta stop showing up late!", Eddie
growled.  "You're lucky your friends covered for you.  They had me
introduce them as the opening band when you didn't show up."

	Freddy breathed a sigh of relief.  He moved to where he could
see the whole stage.  Out there was a group of people who he had
played with in the past: Hector Death on drums, Stoner on tenor sax
(with a pitchrider mic), Lerxst on guitar synth, and Hair-Bear on
five-string fretless bass.  They were chugging out some rocked-up
arrangements of jazz standards.  There was a lot of soloing just to
fill time.  He caught Stoner's attention and arranged the switch.

	The band recapped the head of the song twice and then coda'ed
out.  There was a smattering of applause from the audience.  Stoner
stepped up and took the house mic.  "Thank ya, ladies and gents.
That's it for us.  Stay tuned for our good friend, and tonight's main
attraction, Frederick Marx..."  He put the mic back in the stand and
the band filtered off to his side of the stage.

	"Thanks guys," Freddy offered sincerely.  "I owe you *all*
one."  He really didn't have many friends, but those he did have would
do just about anything for him.

	Lerxst answered, "No prob, eh?  Just have the waitress buy us
a round on you!"  The group laughed.

	"It's as good as done guys.  See you after the first set."  He
waved and started to walk on stage, but stopped.  "Hey!  Why don't you
play the first set with me?  I haven't played with a group in *ages*."
That didn't count his nightmares, of course!

	Nobody could think of a reason not to, so they all walked out
on to the stage.  A smattering of applause greeted them.  He walked up
to the house mic and peered out into the darkness.  He couldn't make
out any faces, so he had no idea if Kelly (or the two samurai) were
there.  He'd have to ask the next day, or run into her (them) between
sets.

	"Howdy folks. I think the boyz here did such a good job here
that I'd let them tag along for the next set."  The audience clapped
in agreement.  Freddy walked away from the mic and asked.  "Everyone
know Lerxst's _Under_the_Electric_Sun_?"  Nods all around.  "Okay
then, let's kick it!"

	The band roared into action.  It took them only one chorus for
them to synch-up.  It was a night that all in attendance would
remember.  In fact, a particular CD bootleg would later just happened
to help that along as well...

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Freddy folded out the couch and plopped down on it.  He didn't
see Kelly (or the samurai) between sets.  He hoped she didn't leave
when he didn't show up on time.  Freddy was really hoping to get into
her good books (and her bed!) again.

	As it turned out, the band played all four sets together and
decided they would have to play as a group again.  It made sense,
since they all went to see each other's gigs anyway.  They might as
well quintuple the action they were getting.  Besides, it was a hell
of a lot more fun than doing solo acts.

	He laid back on the sofa-bed and closed his eyes.  Tomorrow
would certainly be a big day for him.  And Ares Macrotechnology
wouldn't have it too easy themselves...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Everything presented   here is Copyright by  Mark  Friedman  1991, all
rights reserved.  Well, that's  not entirely true!   Basic  story plot
and Matrix help was by Jerry Weiler, but he won't mind: I'm giving him
all the profits from the venture. Let's see, what's 100% of $0.00? :-)
Also, basic Shadowrun backdrops are in extensive use.

Any questions, comments, requests, criticisms, and Chapman Sticks will
be accepted and appreciated at the address in the sig.

					- Mark "Crimson" Friedman

Mark "Klone Crimson" Friedman is friedman@cis.ohio-state.edu .................
"There is nothing former   "Beat poets,    "If you put a hungry ferret in your
 about King Crimson."       not children."  trousers, he'll run around..."
 - Robert Fripp, 5/11/90    - anonymous     - Nigel Tufnel (Spinal Tap)