The Hystericals: Sekhmet’s Revenge
Copyright © 2016 by Jenni Gisselbrecht Hyena
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without written permission from its publisher.
We returned once again to full on entertainment/showbiz duty down at Baltimore’s ever so famous Royal Farms arena, as Jason kicked us off with Jessica, Leslie, and Jenni all as usual with our usual swooning hit rendition of “So fine” with Jason damn near giving all the goo goo’s in the audience a wave of cuteness heart attacks with his lead vocals, and Emma going ham with the solo on her guitar. After taking a brief bow in gratitude of the crowds various array of the usual hooting, cheering, and hollering, Donna exchanged a quick glance with me and all the rest of the crew and then stepped right up on the mic to make the announcement. “Alright, ya’ll ready for this here?” “Yeah!!” The animals in the crowd shouted in reply. Donna chuckled. “Aww, come on, now homies. That was hella week. I said, are ya’ll ready for this next one here?!” “YEAH!!!!” The crowd roared ecstatically, and the crescendo suddenly increased along with mine and the rest of the group’s warm smiles as Jason and Jessica’s now sweet sixteen year old cheetah/cougar hybrid son, Nathaniel Whooley Burdell, stepped meekly up to the center stage mic, and surprisingly knocked nearly everyone present right off their feet and knees with a damn near perfect rendition of everyone’s hometown hero, Tupac Shakur’s stunning rap hit, “Keep your Head Up”. We finished up the last of our late night show with a covering of Joe’s “More and More”, and met my uncle Cecil on the way up to the Baltimore Street garage; where our van awaited conveniently on the lower level. “Eh, I like the way you moved out there, kid.” Cecil turned to Nathan, giving him a friendly elbow in his stocky left shoulder. “You’ll make a damn fine rap baller one day. Maybe even more so than both old Biggie and Tupac themselves, combined.” “Maybe you better think good and hard on that one, Uncle.” I laughed, delivering little Nathan a noogie along with Tawret and his two guardians. We padded our way carefully across the MTA light rail tracks and as soon as the bottom of my sandals touched the very tip of the sidewalk’s curb, the sound of thunderous pops and a few screams immediately slapped me up to full attention, before I drew my Desert Eagle quick as day and rushed over to take full assessment of the scene. What I saw made my heart stop dead in its very tracks and my blood begin to steadily boil with lust and distraught rage at the sight of my fifty four year old uncle now lying in a pool of his own blood around Jenni and the rest of the crew; as the sound of sirens steadily approached from beyond the distance.