I was at an art show. I knew this much.
I was bored, or didn't like it and had wandered off to the back room where they kept all the books. I was thumbing through them and found a book called something like "The Necrovisions of...", I couldn't remember the author. I looked through it, it was an art book full of glossy pages full of black and white and red photos, mostly of bits of anonymous lumps of meat hanging on lines, siting on the floor looking rather sad. Then I got to a picture of a mans face, he was pure white skinned and had chewed away his lips. They hung down in taters.
I hated this. It was the last straw and I decided to leave, I didn't want to be there anyway.
The problem was, I had to go through the show room to get out. I went in and people were seated on the a kind of baseball layout seating, barely a scaffold. They were waiting and watching the other side of the room where it had been covered in plastic sheeting with a plastic curtain in a kind of mockery of the theatre. They wouldn't let me leave because I had paid for the show so I might as well stay and get my money's worth.
The artists came out. He was a decadently fat man (from good living, not laziness) and was wearing a golden dressing gown. He was powdered up like Elizabeth I, all pure white. There was another man with him, he was dressed like a mortician, black rubber apron and gloves, white overalls, and a mask that hid all of his face; you couldn't see his skin.
The artist took off his robe and he was naked, entirely white. He laid on the nearby table and the other man took out a delicatessens' meat shaving thing and started shaving him down, spraying blood everywhere (it was most up his white body). He moaned in agony and ecstasy.
The show ended with him eviscerated up to his ribs, splayed everywhere. He moaned quietly and the audience clapped.