?!

The clouds drop question marks on the crowd. The show stops, the guitars are set down and the drum kit explodes with anticipation. The musicians walk off the stage like it’s no big deal, but they’re as confused as everyone else. The green room is blue and there’s no more M&Ms. The van is vandalized and the tour bus nonexistent. They walk to the nearest bus stop. No one recognizes them. No one offers them an umbrella and the question marks leave stains on their favorite clothes.

The bus pulls up, but their pockets are empty. They sleep outside and bum cigarettes from pretty teenage girls.

The parking lot empties and the cars fill the air with horn honks and exhaust. It’s cold and your breath looks like a smoke stack. Four scruffy-haired guys thumb for rides. No one stops. No one bats an eye. The question marks stick to their windshields.

Everyone is dissatisfied. Cursing, no climax. Bullshit, they yell. The clouds feel bad, but the rain must go on.

Three days later, the clouds drop exclamation marks and a secret show is on. Did you get invited?

The invitations were sent by snail. Five days too late.

But the club is packed and they feel like rock stars. No questions asked.

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