It’s dark. I’m scared shitless. My heart pounds out of my chest, and I can’t seem to steady my breath.
The corridor is narrow. Walls are closing in on me. I breathe deep—in and out. Stomach does cartwheels.
I’m not alone. I hear them out there—voices crashing together, forming a roar that steadily builds. How did this happen? Most of it’s a blur. But here I stand and there they wait.
Then, thundering like God commanding Moses: “Hollywood! Would you please welcome Astral Fountain!”
Troy counts off eight on his drumsticks...