A Wild Party

Well now, Colonel, let me tell you how it all happened. It was the Calgary Stampede. Lobos Locos, that’s me and the boys, play an off-grounds club called the Wildcat Roadhouse over in the Ogden industrial park. Our brand o’ country-rock draws its own special crowd.

Anyways, the night of the twelfth we were warmin’ up the fans for our big number– Moon Medley –when he come in. Robert Oh My Gawd Downey Junior. Don’t know how he got past all the “private party” signs; guess ain’t nobody gonna throw out a big star like him. Unless they cared about his safety. But he was covered that way, I reckon; him and his two bodyguards were all dressed up in fancy pants Iron Man suits.

We’d just started in with Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” when ol’ Robby’s guards started shootin’ energy beams er somethin’. Simon and Jesse went down dead, but that only got everyone else dancin’ harder. You know what they say, the show must go on. We fugued over to “Bark at the Moon” an’ that was the cue to really start anyway.

Greta and Marlene went first; makes sense what with them doin’ this since they was kids. Greta tore off her dress and howled. I love when she does that; it brings out the wolf in me. Marlene just let her clothes shred as the change took her. I tell ya there ain’t nothin’ like when a whole crowd goes feral.

By that time Bobby’d got his helmet on so I kind of lost track o’which was which. Didn’t really matter none; when we checked the bodies later it turned out they all looked like Bobby. I kept playin while the fight went on. It was the old contest: nature versus technology. Three suits of high-falutin’ armour ‘gainst a bar full o’werewolves.

The fight in the bar lasted for the whole medley, which means about ten minutes I guess. Lotta people got hurt real bad, but none as bad as the Iron Men. The fans gang-mobbed them and tore ‘em outta their armour to the tune of “Whole of the Moon.” Then they got a bit wild, if you catch my drift. By the time we got to “Moondance” there was only one left standing and he was doin’ a sexy-dance with Greta. More sexy than dance if I recall right.

The party spilled out into the truck stop where there was this big ol’ spaceship and about a dozen more Robbies. They didn’t know what hit ‘em. When we got to the flight deck we found a coupla space-bugs, which me and Eddie twisted the heads off’n.

Eddie will tell you he did it, but it was definitely me. After all the carnage was over and we’d cooled off a bit I held up one o’ the severed bug heads, looked it straight in the compound eyes and sang to it.

“Now you know, now you know that you Can’t Fight the Moonlight.”