The first concert I ever saw was KISS. I went with my aunt and was so freaked out by how loud the Gods of Rock were, that she had to stuff cigarette butts in my ears. The blood, the tongue, the boots, Paul Stanley’s chest hair and spandex clad arse! It was all too much. I was hooked.
I immediately joined the KISS Army and was obsessed…
Fast forward to many years later and I found myself at a nightclub watching a KISS tribute band rock out on a small wooden stage. The ‘Gene-lookalike’ was sporting tiny batwings what wouldn’t even allow a chihauhua to take flight. Flashpots went off and I couldn’t help but jump out of my skin. I didn’t need to stuff Marlboro butts into my earcanals this time so that was an improvement over my last brush with KISSness.
Your Turn