Sound

Billie's mouth ripped open in a scream and the skin of his throat quivered like there was a wild animal clawing its way out of him. He tightened his hold on the microphone stand and his black nails dug crescents into his palms, familiar crescents many people would have recognized - Mike had them up his sides, Tre had them on his back. His scream echoed off the walls of the venue but it wasn't alone; he could hear the magnitude of people in the audience screaming at the top of their lungs, some on key and some off, some just screaming without abandon, like they had their own wild animals escaping through their vocal chords. He haphazardly strummed his guitar, feeling rather than hearing the strings twang and dig into the skin of his knuckles.

His scream ended, but theirs didn't. They screamed and screamed and screamed and for a moment all the noise - their screams, the music, reverberation, his own thoughts - seemed to utterly surround and swallow him, like there was nothing else in the world but noise. As the crowd screamed and Billie kept hitting the guitar, he felt like every sound he had heard in the past 38 years were coming back and streaming through his mind, kicking and biting and punching every inch of his brain. He didn't have the room for all of them! There wasn't enough space!

"Get out of my head, you fuckers!" he howled into the microphone, and the crowd just kept cheering, jumping, dancing, screaming. They didn't know what the fuck he was talking about but it didn't matter, nothing mattered. Not right now, not with adrenaline secreting from every part of them and the harsh grating of strings and deep banging of drums invading their eardrums.

"Now shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Billie's eyes snapped open and he looked to his left, where Mike was waving his arms above his head, speaking to the crowd. Billie stopped madly strumming and stepped back to his beer, concentrating so hard on hydrating and trying to return his thoughts and heart beat back to normal that he missed what Mike was saying.

"... so everyone, when I count to five, we sing real big and real loud, just like he's done for you the past couple decades, alright?!"

Billie furrowed his eyebrows at Mike, about to run up to him and stop him from counting down when Tre veritably flew down from his platform onto Billie's back, breaking his guitar strap. It fell to the floor with a loud clang! but nobody noticed - they were all getting ready to sing and Billie was too preoccupied with the little fucker currently hanging on his back like a baby ape.

"Tre, you cockmaster!" Billie shouted, only loud enough for Tre and the first few rows to hear, and their laughter was enough to finally stop Mike, who turned around and immediately burst into loud, deep laughter.

"Got a monkey on your back, Billie?" That got the rest of the crowd laughing, including Billie himself, who was now endangering the life of said monkey by bending over in mirth.
In all the commotion, no one noticed Jason, who Billie later said should have received a medal for managing to be as unseen as a ninja in front of a crowd of a thousand. He crept up behind Billie and Tre and somehow managed to reach in between to two moving bodies to secure a plastic 'happy birthday' crown in Billie's spiky hair and a fluffy pink boa around Tre's neck.

"Go Freese!" Mike yelled, alerting the crowd to the ninja, who started to hoot and holler and then laugh even harder when they finally understood what he had done to Billie and Tre, who were now an eight limbed, pink feathered, princess crowned monster running around stage. Freese bowed and tipped his invisible top hat.

"Now, for real this time... sing Billie Joe a happy birthday, on my count!" Mike yelled, waving his arms to get the crowd's attention again.

Billie stopped, straightening up into a meerkat like position so fast that Tre fell off him and landed on his ass. "Mike! No!" he whined, dragging out the 'i' in Mike.

"5!" Mike yelled, winking at Billie.

Billie ran to his microphone and made his best attempt at damage control. "Don't you guys listen to him! If you shut the hell up, I'll... I'll take my pants off!"

"3!"

"AND MY SHIRT! AND MY SHIRT!"

"2!"

Billie screamed again, apparently giving up. "Fuck you all!"

But Billie's curse was lost in a rousing rendition of the traditionally sung hundred year old song. Different keys and rhythms and voices were rising all around him, filling his ears again and taking over his mind. Billie smiled and bent his head down a little, swallowing against the tears rising up in his throat. He never did know how you were supposed to act during this thing.

“Happy birthday, Billie Joe!” Mike said, his booming voice jacked up by the microphone but still unable to quite top the amazing volume of the adoring, singing fans.

“Thanks, everyone,” Billie said into his microphone, his hand gripping it tight, his nails fitting into their familiar crescents. He blinked more against the tears, fighting them, but as he looked into everyone’s faces - the sweaty faces of the crowd, the intimate faces of Mike and Tre and Jason - he knew he was going to lose.