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madfishmonger · 1 year ago

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The Vibe Dealer

The warehouse you were given directions to looks exactly like the building you imagine when you hear “warehouse” – a low, long building made of brick and nearly no windows, the small human-sized door looking even smaller next to the huge transport doors. All the windows and doors are closed, some even with wood nailed over top, but that barely contains the heavy bass emanating from within. The rumbling, rhythmic beat eases any concerns you have about having the correct address. After tidying up your outfit and hair, feeling pretty good about your look tonight, you head up the metal ramp toward the metal door and the large, imposing bouncer sitting beside it.

The bouncer turns their steel-grey eyes toward you with an expression so blank it makes you a little uncomfortable, and you fumble the little card you received as invitation. You manage to grab it before it hits the concrete, and hand it over. Smooth, you think to yourself, not even in the door yet and I’m flubbing it. Be cool. The bouncer looks at both sides of the card and without a word, stands and opens the door, holding it until you walk through. You do your best to get inside both quickly and gracefully but manage neither, and then the door closing so firmly behind you makes you involuntarily jump. You stop in the darkness of the doorway to compose yourself and let your eyes adjust, which takes a moment as the huge room is weirdly lit. You’ve entered at the end of the rectangular room, just inside the corner on the long end. To your left is a wall with washroom signs on it, to your right are a set of couches and low tables, filled with people drinking and talking to one another, their voices muffled and incomprehensible against the thumping, pounding beat. You walk past the couches, and glance over to see if you can spot the friend that invited you, you realize you can’t see a single face. The bar is visible now on the left, a large but haphazardly-created thing with coolers below and nothing else but a small tip jar. You walk toward it, hoping your friend is also at the bar, but don’t see them. There’s something in the back of your mind nagging at you, something about their faces, but you quiet the fears. You’re always nervous in new places, especially parties, and you knew you were taking a chance coming out tonight. You’re good, you find yourself almost speaking aloud, but catch it in time, steeling yourself for the social interaction. Arriving at the bar, you open your mouth to speak and the bartender hands you a beer in a small, squat bottle. Taking it, you thank the bartender and ask how much? The bartender waves you off with a smile. You smile back, toss some money in the tip jar, and take your stubby with you toward the dancefloor. Perhaps if you stand in the light your friend will be able to find you.

The dancefloor in this warehouse is like nothing you’ve ever seen. Between four huge square cement pillars, stage lights have been hung so they point downward toward the floor in a frenzy of movement and colour. Lasers pierce the fog that seems to flow in from nowhere (shouldn’t you be able to see the fog machines? the little voice in the back of your head nags) and more people than you imagined would be at this kind of party fill the space (why can’t I see their faces?), gyrating, swaying and dancing with abandon, and the music finally begins to register as you pay attention to it (why is that beat so hypnotic?).

I AM THE VIBE DEALER

Drones the deep, synthetic voice from the speakers.

24 STUBBIES IN THE CHILLER

You look down at the beer in your hand and laugh, the party organizers must have planned this.

SHOTS ALL AROUND IT'S TEQUILA

A cute young lady in a sporty black and white tennis dress and comfortable running shoes suddenly appears at your side with a tray of shot glasses. Several people nearby stop dancing to come over and you find yourself being toasted by a group of strangers. The tequila burns spicy-hot on the way down, leaving a chili taste on your tongue. You catch yourself laughing, maybe this party won’t be so bad after all. The group encourages you to join them dancing, and you do, but stay near the edge of the space so you can keep an eye out for your friend. The fog is extra thick here, but it doesn’t seem to bother you, in fact the longer you breathe it in the better you feel (It doesn’t smell like the fog they usually use in dance clubs...) and you begin to loosen up a little. The young lady with the tequila shots comes around again and you realize you’ve finished your beer. She hands you a shot glass and then another beer, and you start on that one too. You don’t usually drink so much or so fast, but something about this place and the people and the fog is fading your inhibitions (shouldn’t that worry you just a little?)

I AM THE VIBE DEALER

Is this a really long song, or are they playing it again?

MARIJUANA WE DELIVER

So that’s what the fog is. This party must have been expensive!

BAD BOY BASS HEAVY HITTER

The bass is heavy, so heavy in fact that it should hurt. This music was being played at a volume that you think should make your ears hurt, the percussion is so deep you can feel your internal organs vibrating along to the beat, but not only does it not hurt, it feels good. You want more.

WITH MY TRIBE, WE BRING THE VIBE

The other dancers on the dancefloor are singing along, which seems natural and expected. You see that young lady in the tennis outfit again, but then you see her again, and again, and....is it that everyone is wearing that same outfit? Why didn’t you notice that before?

WE ARE THE VIBES

Chant the dancers in perfect unison (how did they do that so well?)

I AM THE VIBE DEALER

You realize the DJ is the one singing this to the music, it’s not pre-recorded, and your legs start moving you toward the DJ booth, all thoughts of finding your friend forgotten. The hypnotic beat, the beer and tequila that keeps appearing in your hands, apparently now of their own accord, no waitstaff needed (why are you going deeper in? Run away! RUN! Screams the little voice in the back of your head, but now it seems like the voice is coming from someone else, far away). The decks and speakers are set up above a stack of old wooden pallets, a tall curtain hangs behind it with a projector beaming strange animated images on to it. As you look up to get a look at the DJ, an animated explosion happens behind him and gives the strange effect of a glowing halo. He has dark hair, shaved on the sides, small black glasses, and long-fingered hands that move and flow with the beat. His dance and hand movement make you think of a religious leader calling forth his flock.

WITH MY TRIBE, WE BRING THE VIBE

WE ARE THE VIBES return the crowd. Somehow you can see them better now. They all seem to be wearing, no, not just wearing the same outfit, they are all the tennis-dress lady. There seems to be a second costume, no, the exact same body repeated over and over in horrifying perfection to a person – wearing a light blue fringed bikini.

I AM THE VIBE DEALER

This was not a lyric now, but a declaration – like a papal edict from on high. He brought the vibe, and the vibe was now the only thing you want. You move closer to the speakers, feeling the vibrations thumping in your chest, the pure ecstasy of the moment flowing through you on one level, while on another your logic and reason screamed with terror at the sight of the cut-and-paste dancers, the mind-altering substances, the hypnotic music...the nagging voice is finally silenced by the voice of the DJ.

WITH MY TRIBE, WE BRING THE VIBE

All you want now is to be a part of it. You look again and it seems all pretense has been dropped. The dancers no longer seem to be trying to look and act human, and you notice their heads are far too large for their bodies.

WE ARE THE VIBES

The big toothy mouths on the dancers sing. Their massive black eyes are all trained on you as they perform a dance routine in unison. The multiples? clones? copies? are all contained now on the dancefloor in front of the DJ. There are only two bodies – that of the sporty woman and the other wearing the fringed outfit, but they all have the same horrifying, disproportionate face with eyes and mouth far too large, a messy, synthetic black wig on their heads that moves with them like a helmet, and too-large teeth.

I AM THE VIBE DEALER

The horrors mean nothing now, the vibe dealer has everything you need. Whatever he is dealing is all you want, the ecstasy of the dance the only thing you want to feel.

24 STUBBIES IN THE CHILLER

SHOTS ALL AROUND IT'S TEQUILA

The alcohol is now all you need to survive, the thought comes to you like the knowing of a dream.

MARIJUANA WE DELIVER

The vaporized fog of pot smoke is all you want to smell, to breathe, to take deep in your lungs and taste of psychedelic heaven. It sustains you, lifts you, lightens your limbs as you join the chorus.

BAD BOY BASS HEAVY HITTER

You no longer have a heartbeat – the bass of the music beats it for you. You can never leave the boundaries of the sound, of the bass, or your organs will stop functioning. You no longer care.

I AM THE VIBE DEALER

Your saviour, your joy, your perfect percussive love. The grotesqueries are not eerie, unnaturally alike beings, they’re all your friends, your cousins, your lovers, your tribe.

WITH MY TRIBE, WE BRING THE VIBE

Your voice has joined the chorus, your mouth stretched wide over your overlarge teeth. Your huge eyes take in more of the light, and you can see another guest has arrived at the door you came in, fidgeting awkwardly with their invitation. Good, the little voice in the back of your head that once spoke for reason and sanity and reality has been replaced by the Chorus of Dancers. Another to join the Tribe!

WE ARE THE VIBES

Your voice is now the voice of the chorus, your legs the servant of the rhythm, your arms the property of the choreographer. You feel the power emanating from the chanting voice, creating more invitations, drawing more dancers in.

The tribe will grow, and you will help bring in more members every night. Every night, for eternity, you will dance. Dance for your life, for your tribe, for the vibe.

Inspired by this music video

#storytime #madfish writes #madfishmonger #writing #short story #horror story #short horror story #the vibe dealer #venjent #please give me feedback on this before I send it to venjent #i love his music and i don't want to offend him

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