Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Phonobaloon Song

It was Pennybags. MUSIC MAKES ME GROW! he cackled disturbingly between laughs. MUSIC MAKES ME GROW! And he was large. It seemed to be true.

The lead singer of Kraftpark saw him, but unafraid, he said drolly in the badly faked German accent that was a part of his act, "Isn't your plan a bit stoo-pid?"

I AM NOT THAT SIMPLE, P-bags cackled and chuckled again.

"Yah, vee'll see. Zee Phonobaloon Song, guyss!"

Pennybags, fortunately, had not had time to think his plan through. He was unused to his newfound size and undextrous within it, was too clumsy to be all that destructive, though not for lack of trying. He lumbered towards the stage. Menacingly at first, but -

The marshmallow-cuckoo-clock tones of the Phonobaloon Song rapidly worsened his weakness. It inflated him much more rapidly than Milk Rock had. He swelled and ballooned. He floated into the air. The concert hall transformed into a stadium, and nobody felt it was strange. Pennybags floated higher and higher. Everyone present accepted that reality was malleable that day, and would have looked at you funny if you called it funny.

Pennybags floated higher still. He finally remembered to shoot lasers from his eyes, but it was too late. They danced colorfully across the stadium, and the crowd roared in psychedelic delight.

"Bye, George... I think I've got it..." Pennybags sighed as he floated off south over the Canadian-US border. Pilots that evening reported that the giant floating man seemed resigned, and defeated, but healthy. (Most of those pilots were then promptly fired for suspected mental illness or drug use.)

Not much later, Glenn Danzig sighed in relief and addressed our other protagonists in his best "you know I'm a protagonist too, right?" voice, cutting straight to the point:

"Uhh... where's Lemmy?"

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Pennybags Gets Mad Now

At Mama Brain's Arcade, there had been a dark haired biker looking dude with his back turned playing a game of Galaga II through the entire conversation.  As the number by The Organization drew to an end, he stopped playing, and turned and looked what must have been almost seventy five yards, at Lemmy, who gazed at him from the audience at the front of the stage.  Lemmy walked towards the arcade, weaving in a trance, meandering between drunken and stoned concert goers, ("Hey, buddy, you wanna hit?" a long haired kid shoves a joint in his face), "Nah!!" Lemmy pushes it away, instead feeling in his back left pocket, and pulling out his half pint bottle of Jack.  He keeps walking towards them but he never gets any closer.  He is lost in a crowd of ecstatic revelers who'd just had their minds blown.
The arcade seems to stretch away further than before from the stage, like the door in a hallway in that one horror movie, when the poor protagonist can never get to the end of the hall to safety and get away from what was coming behind--

Something ripped in space time and the dark haired biker turned toward Mama Brain and Lemtata.

It was Glenn Danzig.   He looked truly frightened.

"He's coming." He said, looking further away from the stage and behind the ladies.
"I think he's mad now."

Then they heard the laughing.