A concert tonight featuring the “alien who fell to earth” act of Madjack, real name Brian McVittie, got out of control this evening, leading to over a dozen public indecency arrests. Venue manager Robert Cooley commented “This the kind of carnal revelry the Saturnalia hasn’t seen here for almost a decade. And while it’s refreshing that people can still find the trust to let love in, some people felt the public fornication might have been a step too far.”

“It’s just love,” McVittie said, “How can that be a bad thing? Two blocks from the Saturnalia, a place called The Apple Theater was showing far worse on screen than what I witnessed from the stage tonight. Worse, there is no way the movie being screened, Naked Abandon, could purport to be representative of a loving relationship. If you knew the profound sadness and anger that permeated the air there, you would arrest the producer of that film. I swear. Some times I don’t know whether to laugh and cry at your quaint human customs.”

Either by coincidence or blind luck, nine of the twelve people arrested at tonight’s show were already wanted on outstanding warrants while one turned out to be international jewel thief Arctic Fox. “I heard the new album,” Arctic Fox said from the back of the squad car. “Something about it really spoke to me, so when I had the chance to catch Madjack live, I couldn’t pass it up. Despite how things turned out, I have no regrets.”

Madjack finished out his set and did two encores after the brief interruption, and his management has volunteered to pay for any damages. The tour continues on to a sold out show in New York tomorrow and Baltimore two days after that. “We’re bringing love all the way across the country,” McVittie said with a wink. We have no reason to suspect anything else.

The Cobalt Opera Society’s premiere of Verdi’s La forza del destino was cut short this evening when a figure wearing a “plague mask” and a voluminous black cloak appeared unexpectedly in the second act. Dropping dramatically from somewhere above the stage, he landed with “cat-like grace” according to mezzo-soprano Maria Genovese (making her operatic debut in the role of Preziosilla).

“He had an old pistol the size of my arm in his left hand,” Genovese said, “It looked like a prop, but too old. Too used. And the sabre in his right hand looked real enough.”

“All my time in the theater, I’ve never seen anything like it,” veteran stage manager Irving Lewiston stated. “Well, maybe once.”

The intruder proceeded to duel with Ignazio Bassani, the young baritone playing Don Carlo di Vargas while the rest of the cast fled the stage. Despite his skills as a singer, a surprising display of strength, and the massive, claw-like hands that sprouted from his back, Bassani was little match for his attacker, and was felled after a spirited effort. A final blow with the attacker’s sword caused the performer to dissolve into an oily, black substance described as smelling like “brackish water and sulfur.”

The attacker vanished as quickly as he appeared, leaping up into the darkness above stage to then flee from an upstairs window.

Police believe that the attacker may have been the mysterious figure known as “The Venetian,” a theory supported by Lewiston.

“It took me a few minutes to recognize him,” the stage manager stated. “After all, the only other time I saw the Venetian was over fifty years ago and I was just a kid then. But once the fight started, the memories came back. I’m positive that’s the same man I saw grappling with The Devil’s Coachman in Lafayette Park in 1871.”

A spokesman for the Cobalt Opera Society will be resuming performances next week with understudy Achille Barbot replacing Bassani.