I was Iggy Pop. But a much younger, and less scarred Iggy Pop. My band and I were performing a benefit concert for my employers. We were performing “Planet Claire” by the B-52’s, in what could best be described as what that song would sound like if Iggy Pop were to perform it.
Halfway through the set, the stage turned into a giant mattress. My band suddenly stopped what they were doing, and all walked over to a huge dresser, and started chanting “Beelzebub”, over and over again. Not in a dark, ominous way, but more like a nasal twang.