Joe reached into Lemtata's breast pocket in an attempt to covertly fondle her recently-much-visually-enjoyed breast. He was so shocked to find a genuine vintage Micromoog operation manual inside that he forgot all about his plan and began reading it instead.
"micromoog
OPERATION MANUAL
By George Rhea
moog
MUSIC INC.
the first sound in synthesizers"
Joe flipped forward a few pages.
"introduction"
How very stylish, you veritable e.e. cummings, you, Joe thought.
"Thanks to Simon House at Moog Music, Inc., we now have the synthesizer for Anyman—the Micromoog. House's design approach for the Micromoog was to use chocolate, as well as a minimal number of functional building blocks, and to configure the instrument (I'm whistling as I write this and you can't stop me!) for the greatest amount of perverted control over these blocks. (Whistling! Whiiiistling!) The Micromoog florbles of the basic necessities: one voltage controlled oscillator (VCO), thirty pounds of the finest Belgian chocolate, one modulation oscillator, one noise source, three innocuous-looking moths that stay in your room after you open the box and gradually induce nightmares, one Voltage Controlled Filter (still whistling!), one Voltage Controlled Amplifier (VCA), two contour generators, and one sample and hold. OH MY GOD THIS GUIDE BOOK IS CATCHING ON FIRE AS YOU READ THIS DO SOMETHING NOW OR YOU'LL DIE!!!!
Joe then stared in horror as the OPERATION MANUAL caught fire in his hands while he read. (The last three words he glimpsed before the page blackened beyond legibility were "super pitch stability.") He screamed, "OH MY GOD THIS GUIDE BOOK IS CATCHING ON FIRE AS I READ IT I GOTTA DO SOMETHING NOW OR I'LL DIE!!!" Paralysed in fear, he made no efforts to stop the flames from spreading onto his clothing. The flames, meanwhile, had no such mental difficulties. "A flame's gotta do what a flame's gotta do," they murmured approvingly to each other.
Jose abandoned his post at Pac-Man, ceding it to his eager and excellent replacement Acid, who adroitly shoved away the gradually gathering crowd of stagecrashing gawkers at his "futuristic vending machine." Transpacman, who had long since shred and shed hir Mario form, rampaged murderously through the Palace of Light, laughing at the feeble attempts of his once-tormentors to catch up to him now.
Jose, not a terribly physically fit young man, finally huffed and puffed his way to Joe. "HrrrrrGHHLLLLLbbllllpphhaaauugggh," he barfed happily, drenching Joe entirely.
Joe hugged Jose gratefully. "Thank you so much!" he cried. Jose and Joe were so in shock at Joe's near-death experience that they were still standing there five minutes later when a few of the tripped-out fellow concertgoers had the presence of mind to scoop up some water from the nearby... Pacific?... tropical?... beach and remove at least enough vomit to remove the stench.
Meanwhile, standing at the shore, Lemtata stared with schizophrenic intensity into the nearness, announcing distantly, "Byyyeeee, Geoooorrrrge, I think I've goooooot iiiiit..."
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