Taking the Stool

The feedback was still buzzing through the mic, but I was done standing around. Right beside the vibrating turntable sat an open wooden road case lined with scuffed black foam. Perched on its brass corner reinforcement was a stray roll of heavy matte black gaffer tape, lying flat like a low industrial throne. I didn't ask for an invite. I swung myself off the amplifier casing, caught the flight case's metal edge, and dropped squarely onto the dense cardboard core of the tape roll. Leaning back against the road case's stenciled plywood lid, I kicked one boot out over the spinning vinyl. Every headline act deserves a breather.