Dreadful Honicutt had stepped onto the stage, not quite having decided what to sing from his repertoire yet, really not having decided anything at all. His feet had moved the rest of him though, were moving him, and there he was. He'd liked the look of a girl up front, one of the front tables, but he'd been warned away from her quite wordlessly, so. There was that. Honicutt's mom had in fact named him after the character on MASH though she'd spelled it differently. He loved his odd name. He began using Dreadful by way of a joke, due to his penchant for both Edgar Allen Poe and some of the more elegant Goth Wear. It had stuck for some reason, the regulars of the place populated densely with friends who knew him well. No one thought anything of it anymore as he was introduced. If he was introduced. Normally (as was the result of his current position), some sort of spirit slid his body stealthily to the microphone, incited by no human, least of all Honicutt. The musicians synced with their chosen instruments directed by nucleic presence, unthinking, majestic. Sound techs and waitresses buzzed about like mitochondria. Those seated at tables quieted and looked up, organelles awaiting input. As the cell took shape, Honicutt lowered his chin, raised his eyes, and began to sing.
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