Katrinka rocks out

Here's a scene I wrote based on my sister, we'll call her Katrinka. She plays the violin very well. She helps my main character, Jacy, who is at her company Christmas party at yet another shitty corporate America cubicle-land boring-ass uninspiring low-paying job. Here it is:

I’m in a state of bliss, my rock star sister Katrinka is on stage playing her violin in her freaking cool rock band. The music is loud and melancholy and beautiful; I am full of masterful wonder. The crowd of cheering fans is HOT and in a state of sheer pleasure-dome madness.

Among the swarm of this crazy crowd in my mind’s eye I suddenly imagine that I am a beetle. Pushed, prodded and then crunched over the edge of a beetle mania precipice. A crag. Especially when I feel a sharp kick which juts rummily into my shins. I stoop to rub it, feeling the warm trickle-splonge of blood.

I fall into the throng and this mass of lunatic people pick me up so then I reluctantly ride the mad crowd wave forever-feeling dragged on the ground for a few feet - enough to freak Katrinka out if she has a chance to notice but how could she not?

I am on that heavy heady wave up high on the pinnacle of the pure raw crowd, hope it doesn’t piss her off so badly - my face reddens with fear, I feel insane and high on life.

This is hysteria.

This is madness.

This is rock.

I float away into the back of the room on this crazy wave of madness. People I know well and others, strangers, jeering, cheering, carrying me.

What kind of a supposedly “tame” rock concert/X-mas party is this? It’s frigging crazy! These are people I work with in cubicle land at corporate America for Chrissakes! All there for my fabulous sister.

Katrinka is a real live legend rock star, after all. I know that. A swell of pride bulges in me. So different than when we were little living with my chocolate uncle, Maurice! We were such Harassed Underlings as children, by loads of other children, who can be so mean.

Katrinka must have noticed this beetle-cum-mania disappearance act of mine because she stops singing at that point, jumps off the tiny stage and bone-picks through the ultra-scary mob to free me. I see her but she doesn’t see me. I yell but she can’t hear me. Her band continues to play and people continue to sway.

It seems that this Goddess-like presence (complete with Cher-like feathers, feather-boa, etc.) make the hord flock around Katrinka but when she holds up her hand and bellows out a throaty BACK OFF! silvery crispy clear demand, they acquiesce. As if magnetized, mesmerized and laden with drippy soup of a celebrity that they wildly adore.

I no longer see her, she is surrounded by a blur of people. It feels like a truck hits me as I am plopped down BAM! BAM! BAM!; sharp bones wrench my body, pushing/shoving/mincing/grinding my outsides into my insides!

The lovely lyrical melancholy music grooves to a descrescendo and diminishes to a very soft waltz, and then I see it:

My sister’s large kind pink hand reaches for me and pulls me out of the frecken fruitless fray.

Thank you dear sister, how I love you!