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“… Did I ever tell you about Woodstock?”
There was a collective groan from the gathered departed, and Trevor buried his head in his hands. Hetty, ever the dramatic, let her head fall back to demonstrate her complete frustration.
“Yes, Flower!” She snapped. “Woodstock was amazing, there was a dog, and it was all peace and love and drugs, blah blah blah! Enough already!”
Trevor snorted, lifting his head up from where it was buried. He looked over at Hetty, then Flower, and back again.
“Sass,” Trevor said with a little chuckle, “is Flower the high one, or is it Hetty?” He held his hand up for a high five, which was not returned. The room turned to look at Trevor, a collective ponder falling over them.
Flower smiled, but the awkward tilt did not look friendly. “I haven’t been alive in a while, but… Woodstock was always like that. What’re you talking about, man?”
Trevor’s usual confident grin fell, and so did his hand. He looked around, holding his hands out in bewilderment. “I’ve been listening to you drone about Woodstock for almost twenty years, and I’ve never mentioned Woodstock ‘99?”
The collective of ghosts shook their heads, and the smile akin to the grinch concocting an evil plan spread over his lips. Trevor hopped up, and bolted over to the TV room. Sam on her phone, being spied on by Thor and Issac.
“Sam!” Trevor hollered, bolting into the room. He pointed to the TV frantically, or any electronic device that was available. “Show them Woodstock ‘99! My cousin’s girlfriend went, oh, the tits on that girl…”
Sam sighed, but knew that Trevor was never going to let it go if he didn’t get his way. So, she turned the TV on and went to Netflix. The first documentary about Woodstock popped up.
Sam pressed play, and Trevor loaded onto the couch with Flower.
~Hours Later…~
Flower blinked. Fires. Feces. Fucking. It was a temple to violence, and hedonism.
Hedonism, sure, Flower could get behind. But this level of ransacking and “sticking it to the man” was never before seen. Just one artist, and the power of one man’s voice, had set the entire concert into a massive snowball of consequences.
Trevor leaned over, like a kid on Christmas Day, gauging Flower’s reaction.
“So? What did you think?”
Flower slowly turned her head towards Trevor. The room held its breath in anticipation for her reaction to watching her peaceful tradition being spat on and stomped into the ground.
“That was…”
But unfortunately for everyone, Flower never fit into expectations.
“So cool! Oh, if I was alive, this is where I would die.” Flower’s face broke out into a giddy grin, and for the first time, she remembered something important.
Flower continued on. “I mean, I haven’t even heard of these bands before! They’re so… heavy, you know? And if the water was four dollars— I’m surprised they didn’t light the place on fire earlier. God… Sam, can you play it again?”
Trevor’s smile fell, and he sighed while Flower ranted about how awesome it would be to be at Woodstock ‘99. Hopefully, she wasn’t paying attention to the plans to have a music festival close to the Woodstone grounds…