As an all-male rock trio (bass, drums, guitar) launched into a slow, bluesy riff, a large figure squeezed into a glittering gown slinked into view, toward the spotlight that was growing brighter at center of the stage.

“Th-that’s my mommy,” gasped Marissa, involuntarily.

“Marissa’s Mommy is a band, not a person,” sneered the burly man who had somehow taken the place of Marissa’s mother at the table, “and some of us came here to listen to the music, if you know what I mean.” As he scowled at her, Marissa quickly turned her head back to the stage, muttering an apology just as her mother ceased her undulating dance and began to sing her song.

All the noise but the music disappeared from the room as the entire gathering became entranced by Marissa’s Mommy’s song, despite its repetitious structure, confusing lyrics, and staggering length. Even as the sun rose, its beams shining through the window signaling a new day, everyone remained transfixed by the odd tale of psychic powers, kidnapping, and bus schedules.