“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”― Albert Einstein
Malcolm stopped in front of the door when he approached the top of the stairs. It was a delicate process to balance the coffee with one arm as he turned the hinge with Connor the other arm.
They came bursting through the door. Upon seeing Malcolm with their son, Meryl immediately dropped a copy of ‘Starship Troopers’ and lifted the sheets over her chest.
“Oh come on!” she exacerbated.
“What? You told me to get him.” Malcolm set Connor on the bed and the newborn began to crawl; Malcolm held a coffee mug in the air. “And I come bearing gifts.”
“That’s not what I meant!” She laughed. “Did you even check his diaper?”
“Eh. He smells clean. Just wanted to see us.” Malcolm brought the mug over and Meryl grasped it while holding the sheets up.
“Well as long as he’s quiet…”
Malcolm circled back to the opposite side to lie with her. Meryl’s breakfast platter had been cleaned off and set to the end of the bed. He huddled into her before she could resume the book, Malcolm wedged little Connor between them. Meryl finally relented and extended a free arm to share the cradle-hold with Malcolm. He crossed legs with her, and they were the sight of a beating heart.
A ringing came from his phone on the bedside table to his left. Malcolm reached over to see a familiar caller ID and pressed the answer button.
“What’s up A-hole!?” Fuckaroo Jack bellowed.
“Kenneth? Why do you have Javi’s phone?” Malcolm politely demanded.
Malcolm could hear a ruffle and the sound of ‘give me that!’. A more welcome voice greeted him. “Sorry about that.” Javier said.
“Why are you two hanging so early?” Malcolm asked.
‘We’re getting the shit we need to Tailgate!”
Meryl took the baby in both arms, and Malcolm sat up with glee. “Are you about to tell me-”
“You’re goddamn right!” Javier happily shouted. “Kenny got the tickets!”
Malcolm’s heart raced. “How many?”
“Enough for the four of us to bring our women!”
“Well shit! What time!?”
“Seven!”
“We’ll be there!” Malcolm hung up the phone.
“How’s Javi?” Meryl inquired. “You sound like he just made you his best man.”
Malcolm pretended to wince. “Oh please! I’d rather lose a nut.”
Meryl laughed. “I’ll remember you said that when my little sis gets married. Now what did Javier say?”
“Fuckaroo got us the concert tickets!” Malcolm told her.
Meryl elevated herself with pleasant dismay. “How?! I thought it was sold out?”
Malcolm thought to himself. “Trust me…It’s better we don’t know.”
“Yea, with a name like that.” Meryl nodded.
“We’re on at seven this evening!”
“Well then!” She reached for her phone. “Let me bother my parents!”
“I’m gonna wolf something down and run some shit out to the dump.”
“It’s about fucking time!” Meryl laughed. “You’re taking a shower first?”
“Before I go to the dump? That’s retarded honey.”
“Well good.” Meryl said. “I can take one when I put this sucker in his crib.”
“You first…” Malcolm grinned.
“You have errands! Get going!”
“Hmph. Very well...I think I’ll get a workout in while I’m out.”
“What? Is this you pregaming for the mosh pit?”
“Maybe…” Malcolm smugly grinned. “I haven’t had so much as a half-hour to run since I took time for you two.”
“It’s not like you’re getting flabby.” Meryl reached and squeezed his right bicep. Malcolm returned the affection by cupping her hand.
“You work wonders but I gotta take the edge off.”
Meryl squinted. “Isn’t that how your idol justified his substance abuse?”
“Uhh…" Malcolm changed the subject. "Why don’t you come running with me one day? Don’t you remember the athlete’s high you got back in the gym?”
She squinted. “You just want to get me in a skimpy sports bra!”
“Well, I did put on that speedo for your birthday…”
She laughed, “Oh you little- Go get changed!”
***
The time was ten o-seven when Malcolm emerged in his backyard dressed in his black athletic pants matched with a red tank top. The old family shed had become the shelter for Malcolm’s hoarding tendencies. It took Malcolm three trips to load all the junk from the shed to his newly purchased, Pale Sierra. He was taking a final look inside the shed, where he discovered a duffle bag containing rusty rifle parts; it was in front of a warped scratching near the wall’s corner. Meryl opened the backdoor and Malcolm spun his head like a grazing herbivore.
She was clad in a black robe and her phone rested in her hand. “Mal!”
“What is it?”
“My parents are a no-go! They’ve been planning their own date night.”
“Well shit!” Malcolm nearly dropped the duffle bag in frustration. “What about David?”
“Well, we already know he’s gonna say ‘no’. Plus, I’d rather Connor not get too much of him until he’s older.”
“He’s a baby!”
Meryl nodded. “Yes, they both are.”
Malcolm batted his eyes. “…Your sis?”
“Mal, she’s a college kid…Fuck no.”
“Alright,” Malcolm was dejected, “I’ll call Javi back and let him know-“
“Mal.” She started to walk towards him. “I can take care of Connor by myself for a night.”
He was touched. “You’ve been looking forward to this concert way more than me.”
“It’s okay.” She assured him. “I’ve had my share of concerts when I was younger.”
“This is our time though…” Malcolm told her. “We don’t have to be back at work for at least another week.”
Meryl leaned in. “Go do something for yourself.”
Malcom stammered. “You gave in nine months for Connor; you deserve to go.”
“The only of your friends I know is Javier.” She spoke. “They’re your friends. Go have a good time, you’ll make it up to me later.”
“You sure?”
“Mal. Go do your thing.”
He kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Malcolm had pulled out of the driveway after 10 in the morning with a loaded truck bed. It was once he left the neighborhood that he was hard pressed to decide whether he was to venture to the park first or the dump. He mulled it over as the News reported on ethnic cleansings in Pakistan, Obama’s deportation policies, and the appalling dismemberment of two Jehovah’s Witnesses last month; it was June, 2014.
“I don’t think the city park is an option…” He said to only himself. Having had nothing to eat except a protein bar and milkshake. Malcolm thought to carbo-load before finally picking back up on his routine. To that end, he stopped to pick up some generic fast food with a large order of fries and a Powerade to drink.
Having consumed the equivalent of two meals inside of an hour, Malcolm felt the burning to use that spare energy. It was eleven fifty-one when he pulled into the Jean Lafitte National Park and Preserve.
Malcolm already knew the trails by heart since his youth and found the tour guides a useless distraction. He commenced with the pre-exercise stretches on a patch of grass next to the parking lot. The June sun had set the temperature to the high nineties and when Malcolm completed the final pop in his spine, his brow was already glistening. Upon completion, he went back to his Pale Sierra, retrieving his smartphone and earbuds. He left his wallet and locked the door behind him. Malcolm decided to initiate a new readthrough of Hunter S. Thompson’s ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ and started his jog from the entrance of the Visitor Center Trail.
The sun was past its peak in the sky when Malcolm began his second lap around the park. Malcolm tested his muscles by scaling a tree at the end of each trail, he also tested his balance by walking across the edges of the boardwalks. It occurred to him that he was losing focus on his audiobook. The first time he had to stop to rewind, he knew that it was time to switch to music. After completing his second lap, he doubled back to the Sierra to retrieve coconut water from the center console. As Malcolm felt his system rehydrate, he continued to satisfy his lust with a slower lap.
Malcolm was upon the apex of another tree at the height of the Palmetto Trail, and he took the resting time to spot birds, of which two hundred breeds could be spotted in this area. He took a seat on a thick branch and delicately wrapped his legs around it while resting his back against the trunk. The chorus to an Avenged Sevenfold song was starting to crescendo.
“…I’ve known it from the start….
…These good ideas will tear your brain apart….
…Scared but you can follow me…
…I’m too weird to live but much too rare to die…”
“Um? Hello?”
Malcolm could hear the voice calling from below. He immediately pressed pause and took a deep breath as he withdrew the earpieces.
“Are you okay up there?!” a female’s voice called out.
“I’m just catching my breath!” Malcolm responded.
“Up there?!”
“I’m not suicidal if that’s what you’re asking!” He looked down to see a noticeably attractive redhead standing in awe.
“Are you even allowed up there?!” she bellowed.
“There’s not a sign telling me I can’t!” He answered.
“Does there have to be?”
“Do you work here?” Malcolm asked.
“No.”
Malcolm cocked his head at her. It was then that he decided to dangle himself from the branch like he was a monkey. The redhead’s eyes gasped and she nearly halted her pacing. She seemed ready to stick her arms out if Malcolm fell. As he continued to stare at her, he did a pull up on the sturdy branch.
“Okay…” She laughed. “I don’t feel like I should walk away with this!”
“Is this a formal request for me to come down?” Malcolm joked.
“Well could you?”
“Very well then!” It was then that he guided himself to the left until he was able to hug the trunk with his legs. After which, he grabbed the base of the branch and found his footing on a branch beneath it. Malcolm finally dropped the last five feet; he faced her and held his hands out, smiling as if he were a magician.
The woman was simply flawless in all her features. She sported a blue athletic tank-top that matched her grey athletic shorts. Her freckled complexion was hardly noticeable, and it was buried beneath a layer of sweat. A set of earpieces were safely wrapped around her neck for stability and an old iPod was tapped to her shoulder. “Should I applaud?” she asked.
“Please don’t” Malcolm said. “You gonna introduce yourself?”
“I already spoke first.”
He held his hand out. “Technically, my name is Malcolm…”
She shook his hand. “In the Middle?” she smirked.
It was just funny enough for him to puff air out his nose. “Between two parents. Both deceased.” He kicked himself for opening with that.
“Same.”
Malcolm was surprised. “You’re an only child too?”
“No…About my parents…”
“Oh!” Malcolm tried to appease. “My bad!”
“It’s okay, really. I only told you cause it’s mutual.”
“Yea, I kind of figured people don’t open with that.” Malcolm scratched the back of his head.
She shrugged. “Typically, not.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I-I never got your name?” He pressed the conversation forward as they started to walk towards an intersection in the trails.
“Sally.” She cocked her head with just a tilt.
“Do you usually stare into the trees when you run?”
“Is that coming from the guy sitting up there for no reason?” She joked.
“Just think it’s kind of funny.” Malcolm imitated a runner with his neck craned all the way facing the sky.
She seemed to find it amusing enough. “Well, if I wasn’t gonna enjoy the scenery then I’d just sign up for a gym.”
“Oh God no! Don’t do that!” Malcolm laughed. “Treadmills are for fat people who want to feel like they’re having an adventure.”
That she found funny. “You’re an amusing singer by the way.”
“…I was singing?” Malcolm was embarrassed.
“Not loudly. But trust me, anyone would’ve heard.”
“Oh!”
“I thought I recognized the song.”
“It was Avenged Sevenfold.” Malcolm answered.
“That, sir,” she poked his shoulder, “Is a band.”
“It’s the one about a wacky author, ‘Bat County.”
She blinked. “I think I know it.”
“You’re a fan?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that, but Dad certainly was.”
Malcolm was curious. “He ever take you to concerts growing up?”
“Here and there.” She nodded. “You?”
Malcolm almost stammered. “He…never took the time. Honestly? I’m going to my first concert tonight.”
She raised a brow. “Seriously?”
Malcolm nodded.
“Hang on…” She raised her finger. “Is it the one across from the stadium?”
“That’s it!”
“Oh wow!”
Malcolm thought she was being sarcastic. “Really?”
“Yea!” She applauded. “For a first-time concert goer, they’re a good one!”
“Oh!” Malcolm figured it was best to continue with the topic. “…It honestly wasn’t our first choice. But we had to settle on a venue, weeks in advance, so we hashed it out…”
“So, who did you want to see?”
Malcolm hesitated. “…Sum Forty-One...”
“I see!”
Malcolm laughed. “Yea, the guys called me emo for it.”
“And they wanted to see?”
Malcolm cocked his head as he droned on. “…Well, my battle-buddy wanted to see Metallica but he got outvoted."
“You called him your what?”
“My ‘battle-buddy.” Malcolm answered. “It’s an army thing.”
“Oh wow!” She spoke. “I can see why you’re staying in shape!”
“Thank you…” Malcolm was fighting the stammering.
“So does ‘battle-buddy’ mean you’re on the front lines?”
“Sure thing!”
“What are you exactly?”
“Second Division, First Battalion. I’m a Sergeant with November Company.” Malcolm scratched his head. “The ugh…‘Fuckleheads’ as we’re loosely called.”
That made her laugh. “Who came up with that!?”
“Name stuck long before I showed up…”
“Do these wacky nicknames permeate the ranks?”
“Not if you’re a high officer.” Malcolm answered. “You’re liable to get your ass chewed out by them.” Malcolm internally kicked himself over the debauched analogy.
She laughed regardless. They had long since entered a trail into a small bayou and the gators could be seen in the swamps adjacent to them. She had taken notice and shifted herself rightward, close to Malcolm’s shoulder. “And you’re called?”
“M-Malcolm. My sir name is Nelson, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, what do your buddies call you? You said you’re not an officer so you must have one.”
“Are we playing Twenty Questions?”
She fluttered her eyes. “I suppose I’m not giving you a fair shot. What would you like to ask me?”
“…Well…What do you do?”
She seemed to hesitate. “…I’m a dancer…”
Malcolm gasped. “Oh! Ballet?”
“When I was little.”
“But not anymore?”
She shook her head. “Not since I turned sixteen.”
“But you still dance though. That what you stay in shape for?”
“My turn for questions!” She deflected.
Malcolm nodded. “Very well...”
“Where did you serve?”
“I did a little of this and a little of that in both wars.” Malcolm answered.
“You’ve seen the Middle East?”
“Sure have. I’ve even seen the original film sites for Star Wars.” He chose to boast.
“They filmed on location?”
“The original trilogy? Yea.”
“Did you see the pyramids too?”
“Those are in Egypt.” Malcolm corrected. “I haven’t been.”
Her embarrassment was apparent with a shrug. “I guess I got my countries confused. I could swear we were involved with North Africa.”
Malcolm kept on talking. “Well, we regime-changed Egypt just before Ghaddafi in Libya but those weren’t invasions.”
She didn’t seem interested in Politics. “The reason I brought them up, the pyramids, I mean…I used to think Aliens helped build them…”
Malcolm guffawed. “Oh, good Lord! You watch the modern History Channel!”
Sarah raised her hands and smiled. “I used to think that…”
Malcolm was only half paying attention. “I remember when we were growing up, they used to air stuff like ‘Decisive Battles’ and ‘Dogfights’. You know? Shit that was more entertaining than the cartoons!”
She rolled her eyes to the top of her head as she grinned. She then returned eye contact. “…Ask me something.”
Malcolm’s eyes darted around. “What are you doing?”
“That doesn’t count. I’ll let you try again.”
“…Okay…You never told me what you’re staying in shape for. What kind of dancer are you?”
“Hmmm. I was worried you’d ask that.”
“Touchy subject?”
“No…I just should’ve been prepared.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. I only bring it on myself.”
“I can just…” Malcolm kept stammering. “Is this your favorite park or is there another you frequent? Not that I wish you were there instead of here!”
Her head dropped to her feet as she laughed. “Your already sweeter than my clients…”
“Wait a minute, I thought you said you were a dancer? You get clients?”
“Well yes...That’s the business.”
“So, you’re into real estate or something like that?” Malcolm laughed. “I guess I wasn’t specific enough. I was asking about your job, not your hobby!”
“...You asked what I stay in shape for…”
“…I did.” Malcolm fluttered.
She parted a strand of hair from her eyes. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”
Malcolm shrugged. “It can’t be more awkward than what I’ve done.”
Her eyes pleasantly rolled. “Well, the people that ask for me, tip better when I’m fit.”
Malcolm almost gasped. “Wait a minute…Oh…”
“Yep.” She nodded. “Night Dancing tends to be demanding.”
Malcolm made himself nod in solidarity. “Yea, I’m not one to judge at face value.”
She blinked twice. “Really.”
Malcolm shrugged. “I mean, as a soldier you get called ‘Hero’ or a ‘Motherfucker’ so often that I don’t believe in these as a constant.”
She pursed her lips before beginning to nod. “That’s interesting…”
Malcolm nodded back. “Human Nature is too convoluted for that bullshit; morality all relative to time and conditions.”
She grinned harder. “My baby-daddy has it in him to be good…when he’s off the meth of course!”
“Exactly-…” Malcolm almost gasped. “You’re a mother?”
She nodded. “I’ve got a set of twins.”
Malcolm almost reeled. “Holy shit, you look great!”
“Thanks…” She responded, then halted. “Your eyes look like hazelnuts.”
Malcolm cocked his head as he paused. “Thanks…”
“I’m not being cliché here…” She laughed. “It’s like you’ve got Nutella in your head!”
“Oh…” Malcolm was flustered. “…Your shoulders are pronounced. I can tell you’re not all-cardio.” He thought he could stop his face from flushing.
She laughed again. “Are you trying to compliment my muscles?”
“Yes…”
“…Yours are built like a basketball star…” Her eyes fluttered. “Maybe…We could meet up where I go to lift?”
Malcolm’s head cocked again. “You want me as your spotter?”
Her head shook. “I could spot you a drink afterward…”
Malcolm thought for a moment. “What about your kids? How many drinks are we talking here?”
“…My baby-daddy and I are on open terms. He can keep an eye on them.” She kept smiling.
Malcolm almost winced. “You’d leave your kids with that meth head?”
She shook her head. “They don’t know…A girl’s gotta have a night to herself.”
“Don’t I interrupt that?” Malcolm asked.
She closed in on him. “You’d enhance it.” She kissed Malcolm without warning as a hand grabbed his ass.
Malcolm yanked her around him as he slamed into the ground. He broke her neck and the only sound that could be heard was the liquidating snap of her Cervical Plexus, a sound which sent Malcolm's heart cold. He turned over and looked at the woman's neck, bent at a ninety-degree angle, and her face was paralyzed with surprise. Malcolm wiped the sweat from his brow and the breathing exercises Meryl taught him returned to his mind. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and now the path was all a blur. Moments later, the thought of people happening across nearly sent Malcolm’s heart rate through the roof all over again.
His sensations were finally returning to him, as was his vision; he was alone for now. He stood up and looking at his work for a brief second, Malcolm grabbed one arm, one leg, and hoisted the body over his shoulders. He moved just slow enough to spot snakes in the grass as he walked to the swamp that was behind them. He simply tossed the carcass far enough for the crocodiles. Malcolm returned to the scene and scuffed the patterns with his shoe. After one more surveyance to confirm that he was still alone, he broke into the sprint of his life.
Malcolm emerged into the parking lot with sweat dripping from his head and fingers like a saturated vine. When his feet skid to a halt, he found himself having to look for his Sierra.
His thirst hit him so hard that he nearly collapsed. He fought through another head rush, hoping that no one would ask him how he felt. The sight of his Sierra was occupying the blur in his vision. He scrambled for an additional coconut water as he climbed into the Sierra; Malcolm chugged it as he used the key in the ignition. He finally realized that the time was one-fifteen thanks to the dashboard, it also blared the same news reports; Malcolm shut the radio off.
As Malcolm blinked, he was ten minutes away from the Waste Connection and the time was nearly four. There was still the afterglow of his Carnal Beast.
...You shouldn’t have done that...You made a mistake, and you fucking know it!
…That bitch let an active Meth head raise her child! She didn’t once ask about my marriage!
You’re not wearing your ring, JACKASS!
…I was trying to vent before she showed up…She shouldn’t have interrupted me!
You can’t pick up on a social que to save your life, so you KILL someone over it?!
…I-It was just a slip up! I snapped-
Oh, you snapped alright!
…I’m saying, ‘That’s it!'
That’s exactly what you said to yourself after the Jehovah boys!
…THAT was the last! THIS was a fluke!
So, we must factor out the ‘accidentals’ right? That’s at least a quarter of your spree right there!
…I have a reason to stop it…after this last time…
Ahh yes, the Junkie’s Dilemma! Otherwise known as the Definition of Insanity! ‘Oh, I’ll be fine after this next fix. Never mind, one more will do me in. I’m sorry, this NEXT time things will change.’
…I know myself better than you…
...You realize that you’re talking to yourself, right?
…I’m not insane…I can’t be if I’m thinking it…can I?
Which would mean you’re completely sane and you just snapped a poor woman’s neck in two. Why?
…Why am I treating myself like we’re in armchair therapy?
You’re the one who doesn’t want to admit he’s a fucking lunatic. So, how’re you gonna respond to the Victim Statements?
…It’s not gonna come to that…
Yes, no matter what goes wrong, nothing will go wrong. I believe Ted Bundy said something about falling under that spell…
…We are not comparing ourselves to that freak.
Why not? Because you don’t keep heads in the fridge anymore?
WE don’t!
Oh, believe me…I had nothing to do with any of that.
Are you supposed to be my conscience? Because you’re doing a shitty job!
You’ve got that wife you haven’t bludgeoned…Don’t you? How is it you think that you think you even won her to begin with? That’s because of your trusted translator! You think you can keep them if you don't stop these fucking murders. You think it’s you operating the wheel right now? Look at the sign…
It was the Harahan Suburbs and he arrived at the stroke of five.
Malcolm, in a near panic, reached into the passenger’s seat. When he looked over the duffle bag was gone. He looked over his shoulder to see an empty truck bed. To his front, the right turn to the cul-de-sac was upon him. Malcolm nearly missed it, taking the turn at a sharp angle, and there was his house at the center.
There was still silence as he pulled into the driveway and set the truck to park. It was by now Malcolm noticed that he was still perspiring. He had nothing to wipe his brow and was positively dripping. He exited the Sierra and sauntered his way over to the front door.
He stepped into a living room where Meryl sat on the couch wearing a matching set of black and red pajamas for her lazy day with Connor, who was snuggled into her.
“Hey Mal,” She looked over and spoke. “I can tell you got your run in.”
Malcolm stepped into the living room to see she was watching John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing.’ He paused and motioned to the newborn, “Really?”
She waved him down. “He’s not gonna pay attention.”
Malcolm nodded sarcastically. “So this is okay but-“
“Don’t you have to get ready for a concert? Go shower!”
“I-…Okay.” Malcolm did an about face and went down the hall.
Malcolm stood dissociated until he saw Meryl moving into the kitchen while Connor cooed at a paused TV. Slowly, Malcolm entered the kitchen undetected. He shocked Meryl when his trembling hands wrapped around her waist, and he voraciously began to kiss her neck.
“The boy is around the corner Mal!”
“He don’t know...” Malcolm moaned as he unzipped his pants. “He won’t see...” He was already caressing her breasts by the time she gave in.
***
After leaving the house at six-ten, Malcolm expected the traffic to be egregious and he had been kicking himself for not leaving the house sooner. To his pleasant surprise, he was three turns away from the parking garage for the concert at Six Forty-Five. It was immediately that Malcolm withdrew his phone and dialed Javier.
“Where are you, asshat?” Javier demanded.
“I’m pulling into the garage now.” Malcolm answered. “Where are you?”
“We had to put the grill up, so we took our seats early.”
“Shit. I’m coming.”
“You’re only missing the opening act.” Javier assured. “It ain’t much.”
“You better applaud for the underdog.” Malcolm demanded. “I’ll be in soon.”
“I’ll be waiting at the door for you.”
And it was not soon enough, especially since Malcolm had struggled to find a parking space. He found himself rushing to the front of the building at after Seven. Javier honored his promise and awaited Malcolm with eager anticipation.
“Dude! Where’s Meryl?” He asked.
“We couldn’t get a babysitter.”
“Well damn!!” They met, locking forearms before they slid across and shook hands. Javier snapped his fingers for an encore. “So, what you been doing?”
“Uh, fucking.” Malcolm crudely responded.
“Still? With a baby in the house?” Javier wrapped his arm around Malcolm’s neck.
They were in the middle of a relatively empty entrance lobby and Malcolm could hear the first set of songs through the walls. They approached the greeter and Javier flashed both tickets. The employee ripped the stub of Malcolm’s ticket and Javier thanked the teenager with a gracious tip of five dollars. They passed into the theatre, between the left and center columns of packed seats and proceeded down the row. The only illumination to the room packed with hundreds, was the colored LEDs that shined from both the tech booth and onstage.
The singer was filling the center of the stage with his presence and Malcolm was struck with a wonderous awe. As Malcolm and Javier moved to the front of the row, they could see Rosie sitting to the left of Kenneth and his mystery woman, who was also sitting to the left of Harvey Daniels and his wife, Sandra. And as Malcolm sat down with an empty chair to his left, he could see the singer had taken notice of him. Malcolm froze in his seat as he shared a moment with him. There the man was, using Malcolm’s presence to direct his movements instead of distracting from them. He anticipated a hand to hold out, to which Malcolm would have certainly jumped on stage. Linkin Park was in its breakdown leading into the chorus.
“…I’m Breaking the Habit…
…Tonight!!!”