A Symphony unto Oneself

Chapter 6

The Story The Authors

"Oooooooooh," he squealed, beside himself, sporting a woody beneath his scratchy woolen Army pants as the band launched into 'Watch Your Step' complete with electric sitars and a bank of those honey-blonde nubile cage-dancers for which southern California is so rightly famoso. Philip

On the left side of the stage Bob Markley his face lined with the years smacked his tambourine randomly in front of his dead mic. It didn't matter. He'd just rented the band anyways, a way to pick up horny groupie chicks. He leered at the tasty creatures frigging and frugging and gyrating in the golden cages ten feet to his right, his mouth watering. It was all going according to plan. And the five hits of Sandoz Laboratory's finest Lysergic Diathylamide was just beginning to cause his pudgy belly little spasms. god, how he loved being a rock star. Lanark

Back at Control Central, Mr. Tickles, after a monumental snort of raw, uncut Di-Methyl-Triptamine, began to bounce off the walls in histrionic imitation of the Cocoa Puffs bird. Looking up, the hallucinating dwarf saw Injun Joe, sponging off in his dressing-room after a hot lard bath, beckoning him from within the confines of the screens of monitors #45 through #48. "Come, old friend," intoned the treacherous halfbreed. "Come with me. COme away from all this. Come to me and we shall fly away, straight into the Mystery."
An offer like that he couldn't refuse. The dwarf took one last peek at the concert, brained Tommy with a single stroke of a 23" diam. cast iron skillet, and stepped through the screen of Monitor #45 into the dressing room. Philip

Knocked off balance by the force of the blow, Tommy sprawled forward into Monitor #113 currently showing a hidden cam shot of Carmen Electra's bathroom. Gene Simmons gave him a swirly. Lester

As he stepped into the cramped confines of the dressing room, through the tattered burlap meant to hide his shame from the world, he spied the silver space suit hanging on the hook by the mirror. "Hmm?" intoned the voice from behind the burlap. "Is it your size?" "It might be if I add the skillet in my pants," quipped the dwarf. And with a quickness untarnished by a giant's slothful ways, the dwarf zipped up the silver suit. The air hissed as the helmet sealed around the collar of the suit. Ryan Somerville

"Fire up the Vaseline oscillators!" boomed a familiar but not-quite identifiable voice over the P.A.
"Check."
"Measure density of Readi-Whip in tank A --"
"Approaching terminal density at 0.88659."
" -- Tank B --"
"Mustard, ketchup, slaw?"
"The works."
"Then all abooooooard for Cupcaaaaaaake Islaaaaaaand!!!!"
A steam whistle split the air. Philip

Meanwhile, back in the "Badlands of South Dakota"... Valetroie tucked the postcard from Caitlin into the bosom of her Oktoberfest dirndl and apron get-up. Although she had been able to decipher most of the ancient Dextroid script, and had gotten some indication Caitlin and Pencillthinmoustache had unearthed a stash of genuine Ousley acid in gallon jugs, it did not occur to her that the card itself might have been dipped in LSD. Ivar KrŸger, the new manager, and Harvard MBA, hired in Caitlin's prolonged absence, had, step-by-step, been taking the tavern away from its original concept. She knew he was right. But she couldn't help wishing that that urbane stranger had never stumbled in and changed things forever. As her pulse increased, and her bosom and face began to flush, she couldn't help but think what a long stange trip it had been! Jake's Place, around the corner, HAD been taking away a lot of traffic! Especially with their new gimmick of abducting New York police rookies and leaving them in the front window duct-taped to a chair until Tuesdays, when a topless Indian wench would cut off one ear with a straight razor, drinks 1/2 price until 7:00! She couldn't argue with Ivar's cold-blooded assessment that "In der long run, 'charm' vill get you no place in zis town!" Tom L.

Nonetheless it had been a shortlived promotion. The Indian wench was good for only two ears and then she had to be replaced. There were no volunteers and the supply of feckless police recruits had dried up when Dunkin Donuts opened six blocks away. Half price drinks were so common that she decided to go with full price drinks but with complementary cocktail weiners. The toothpicks with the colourful plastic tassels were extra. Even with this creative solution Ivar thought it, "Too charming by far!" Ignacious

The Story	The Authors
"Oooooooooh," he squealed, beside himself, sporting a woody beneath his scratchy woolen Army pants as the band launched into 'Watch Your Step' complete with electric sitars and a bank of those honey-blonde nubile cage-dancers for which southern California is so rightly famoso.	Philip
On the left side of the stage Bob Markley his face lined with the years smacked his tambourine randomly in front of his dead mic. It didn't matter. He'd just rented the band anyways, a way to pick up horny groupie chicks. He leered at the tasty creatures frigging and frugging and gyrating in the golden cages ten feet to his right, his mouth watering. It was all going according to plan. And the five hits of Sandoz Laboratory's finest Lysergic Diathylamide was just beginning to cause his pudgy belly little spasms. god, how he loved being a rock star.	Lanark
Back at Control Central, Mr. Tickles, after a monumental snort of raw, uncut Di-Methyl-Triptamine, began to bounce off the walls in histrionic imitation of the Cocoa Puffs bird. Looking up, the hallucinating dwarf saw Injun Joe, sponging off in his dressing-room after a hot lard bath, beckoning him from within the confines of the screens of monitors #45 through #48. "Come, old friend," intoned the treacherous halfbreed. "Come with me. COme away from all this. Come to me and we shall fly away, straight into the Mystery." An offer like that he couldn't refuse. The dwarf took one last peek at the concert, brained Tommy with a single stroke of a 23" diam. cast iron skillet, and stepped through the screen of Monitor #45 into the dressing room.	Philip
Knocked off balance by the force of the blow, Tommy sprawled forward into Monitor #113 currently showing a hidden cam shot of Carmen Electra's bathroom. Gene Simmons gave him a swirly.	Lester
As he stepped into the cramped confines of the dressing room, through the tattered burlap meant to hide his shame from the world, he spied the silver space suit hanging on the hook by the mirror. "Hmm?" intoned the voice from behind the burlap. "Is it your size?" "It might be if I add the skillet in my pants," quipped the dwarf. And with a quickness untarnished by a giant's slothful ways, the dwarf zipped up the silver suit. The air hissed as the helmet sealed around the collar of the suit.	Ryan Somerville
"Fire up the Vaseline oscillators!" boomed a familiar but not-quite identifiable voice over the P.A. "Check." "Measure density of Readi-Whip in tank A --" "Approaching terminal density at 0.88659." " -- Tank B --" "Mustard, ketchup, slaw?" "The works." "Then all abooooooard for Cupcaaaaaaake Islaaaaaaand!!!!" A steam whistle split the air.	Philip
Meanwhile, back in the "Badlands of South Dakota"... Valetroie tucked the postcard from Caitlin into the bosom of her Oktoberfest dirndl and apron get-up. Although she had been able to decipher most of the ancient Dextroid script, and had gotten some indication Caitlin and Pencillthinmoustache had unearthed a stash of genuine Ousley acid in gallon jugs, it did not occur to her that the card itself might have been dipped in LSD. Ivar KrŸger, the new manager, and Harvard MBA, hired in Caitlin's prolonged absence, had, step-by-step, been taking the tavern away from its original concept. She knew he was right. But she couldn't help wishing that that urbane stranger had never stumbled in and changed things forever. As her pulse increased, and her bosom and face began to flush, she couldn't help but think what a long stange trip it had been! Jake's Place, around the corner, HAD been taking away a lot of traffic! Especially with their new gimmick of abducting New York police rookies and leaving them in the front window duct-taped to a chair until Tuesdays, when a topless Indian wench would cut off one ear with a straight razor, drinks 1/2 price until 7:00! She couldn't argue with Ivar's cold-blooded assessment that "In der long run, 'charm' vill get you no place in zis town!"	Tom L.
Nonetheless it had been a shortlived promotion. The Indian wench was good for only two ears and then she had to be replaced. There were no volunteers and the supply of feckless police recruits had dried up when Dunkin Donuts opened six blocks away. Half price drinks were so common that she decided to go with full price drinks but with complementary cocktail weiners. The toothpicks with the colourful plastic tassels were extra. Even with this creative solution Ivar thought it, "Too charming by far!"	Ignacious

Library | Contents | Next Page