Call of Enoby
Chapter 3
Author's Note: The next chapter was already written (and posted on my writing tumblr) a long time ago. So it'll probably be a double update.
On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots. Underneath them were ripped socks. Then I put on a black Duty-like suit with all this red stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my short hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing story on my PDA feed while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some Gopnink McBlyat. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some camouflage painting. I didn't add much of it because my face was smudged enough. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.
I went outside. Scar was waiting there in front of his barely functional car. He was wearing a mercenary suit (they'd be the security at the show), large gold chain around his neck, black nail polish and a little eyeliner. (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).
"Hi Scar!" I said in a depressed voice.
"Hi Strelok." he said back. We walked into his repaired rusty Lada (the license plate said 666) and drove to the place with the concert. On the way we tried to listen a XS Project cassette, but it got stuck. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the improvised stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Gopnik McBlyat.
Gopnik squatting music
Slavness begins
Anu!
Anu-nu-nu-nu!
Cheeki Breeki Iv Damke! he sang. (I don't own da lyrics 2 dat song).
"His gasmask is so fucking hot" I said to Scar, pointing to him as he played, filling the air with his amazing music.
Suddenly Scar looked sad.
"What's wrong?" I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.
"Hey, it's ok. I don't like him better than YOU!" I said.
"Really?" asked Scar sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.
"Really." I said. "Besides I don't even know him and he isn't a stalker. I hate that." I said disgustedly, thinking of people who never got irradiated.
The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Scar. After the concert, we drank some vodka and asked Gopnik McBlyat for an autograph and photos with him. Scar and I crawled back to the Lada, but Scar didn't go back into the rookie village, instead he drove the car into... ... ... ... ... the Red Forest!