I went to a Fire and Fluff concert… and I can’t remember a single thing about it

A few weeks ago, I scored a ticket to see Fire and Fluff. Yeah, that Fire and Fluff — the duo with those weird furry/weeb albums everyone jokes about. The venue was tiny, barely bigger than a bar. I remember waiting in line, hearing people whisper that their shows “aren’t like normal gigs.”

I remember the stage lights flickering on. I remember the crowd cheering as the Master of Fire and the Master of Fluff walked out. Then—

Nothing.

It’s like someone cut a reel of film. One second they’re about to play, the next I’m outside, stumbling into the street, ears ringing. My phone says three hours passed. The only photo in my camera roll is a smear of light and fur — like a paw print burned across the lens.

Since then, weird gaps keep showing up in my memory. I’ll be brushing my teeth and suddenly realize I’ve been standing at the sink for twenty minutes, toothbrush dry. Friends say my eyes sometimes glow red in the reflection when I laugh, but I don’t see it.

I tried asking people who were there what happened. They all get cagey, or say things like, “It’s better if you don’t know.” One guy flat-out told me, “You gave something up to the Fluff. That’s why you don’t remember.”

Now when I sleep, I dream of a giant fox woman crouched at the edge of my bed, whispering lyrics I don’t recognize but wake up humming.

I don’t know what Fire and Fluff are doing at their shows, but if you ever go, just… be ready to lose more than your money.