It started innocently enough—like all good catastrophes do.

Feral Eclipse had just wrapped a scorcher of a show the night before, still buzzing as they piled into the tour van that morning. Gabriel, ever the caffeinated optimist, convinced everyone they needed a pit stop for coffee and road snacks. Again. They pulled into a sleepy corner mini-mart in some suburb that probably had more HOA meetings than music venues.

Gabriel bounded inside, hoodie half-zipped, tail twitching lazily behind him, already headed for the cold brew cooler when a sharply dressed man intercepted him near the energy drinks.

“Excuse me,” the man said with that million-dollar-smile-and-zero-personality vibe. “You’re the guitarist from that band last night, correct? Gabriel?”

Gabriel blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“I’m throwing a private party today. I was impressed by your… stage presence.” The man handed over a sleek black business card. “Would you be interested in doing a short set for a private audience? I’m happy to pay well for a few live songs. Just a little fun for the family, you know?”

Gabriel, never one to say no to playing—and high on caffeine—lit up. “Sure! But we don’t do solo gigs. We play as a pack. You get the whole band or nothing.”

The man smiled wider. “Perfect.”

🏡Arrival at the Lair of Disappointment

An hour later, the van rolled through a gated community lined with perfect lawns and suspiciously identical mansions.

“This doesn’t feel like a venue,” Thane muttered, narrowing his eyes at the giant inflatable bounce house on the front lawn.

Gabriel squinted. “Huh. Maybe it’s a backyard BBQ thing?”

Maya groaned. “If there’s a piñata, I’m leaving.”

Mark stared at the life-size cardboard cutout of Bluey on the driveway. “I’m not emotionally equipped for this.”

The van creaked to a halt. The band climbed out and were immediately greeted by a swarm of sugar-drunk 6-year-olds wearing party hats and face paint. A bubble machine hissed somewhere in the distance. A clown juggled silently on the porch, his expression dead inside.

“Welcome to hell,” Cassie whispered.

The businessman came striding out, clapping his hands. “Wonderful! You made it! We’ve got power outlets on the patio, and I moved the balloon animal station so you can set up near the bounce house. You don’t mind playing a few covers, do you? Something the kids can dance to?”

Thane slowly turned toward Gabriel.

Gabriel gave him the most sheepish, wide-eyed, tail-curled-between-the-legs look he’d ever mustered.

“I may have misinterpreted what he meant by ‘private party.’”

Thane inhaled like he was about to commit a felony.

Mark, already pulling a light case from the van, muttered, “I hope this kid’s ready for some trauma.”

🎶Setlist of Doom

The band tried—tried—to adapt.

Cassie sang a painfully toned-down version of “Veins of Thunder” with all the growls removed. Rico tried to find a beat that didn’t inspire headbanging. Jonah wore his sunglasses the entire time and muttered under his breath, “This is how legends die.”

Maya played with her volume knob dialed so far back it was practically a lullaby.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was thriving. He handed out picks like candy, let kids touch his strings (against every bassist instinct in his body), and even led a mini mosh with inflatable guitars someone handed out.

At one point, Thane was asked if the “doggie man” could tie balloon animals.

“I will eat that clown,” he growled.

“I’m begging you not to,” Mark said flatly.

🎁A Very Special Encore

As the set mercifully wrapped, the birthday boy was handed a custom-made “Feral Eclipse” cake—complete with poorly drawn werewolf figurines on top.

“You guys were AMAZING!” the businessman beamed.

“Sir,” Jonah said, “you invited a metal band to a child’s birthday party.”

“Yes,” the man nodded. “Great exposure! All the neighborhood parents are on Instagram!”

Gabriel laughed. “Well, at least someone had fun.”

Cassie, clearly seconds from cracking, whispered, “If I hear the word ‘kidcore’ one more time, I’m setting the merch van on fire.”

As they loaded the van, Thane looked over at Gabriel, who was somehow still grinning.

“You are never allowed to talk to strangers in mini-marts again.”

Gabriel shrugged. “You gotta admit… it was kind of legendary.”

Mark slammed the back door shut and muttered, “I have seen war zones with less chaos.”