Smart choice. It may not have been a creative one, but it works just like you knew it would. It only takes one beat and the crowd is locked in.
“Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine!” screams literally everyone in the room.
This IS your moment! You’ve bust out of your cage and are doing more than fine! Look at you, you’re on drugs AND you’re a DJ. You are everything you never were in college. Oh, if your friends could see you right now.
You are in total command of this crowd. If they weren’t dancing they would bow for you can do no wrong tonight. Every song you pick is perfect. You have saved the party, you are god! This reunion marks your long-anticipated second coming, and this set is nothing short of miraculous if not transcendent.
Hours pass up on that DJ stand. Hours that feel like minutes. Minutes that feel like the best time of your life until abruptly – they don’t. Satisfied with your queue, you look up from your phone and notice students hurriedly emptying the dancefloor.
Somebody yells, “COPS!!” Simultaneously, someone else flicks on the room’s abrasive fluorescent lights. “Hide the molly!” yells another.
A swift wave of disgust almost knocks you out. Molly, really? How could you have been so stupid? You get a good look of everyone around you for the first time tonight as they rush to clear the room. They look so young, so repulsively young. What are you doing here, you came here to meet up with your friends not roll your way into an aux enabled messiah complex. You are not a god, all you did was shuffle through Top 40 hits from the 2000’s. You’re disgusted with yourself now. Truly, you hate yourself at this moment. You decide to not even bother looking for your friends. You hitch a ride back to campus with some students and head to your dorm room. You lie awake in silence with a blanket pulled over your face for the remainder of the night.
So, congrats. You survived the night. You come to find out that the cops showed up not to bust the party, but because a slasher has killed multiple people in the house. Normally, you’d be grateful to have survived, but truth be told you’d rather be dead. The way you feel right now, this self-loathing and existential dread is pure horror. This is horror of the highest order.