?The Moon requires a parcel.?
?The Moon does??
?You don?t come back from that.?
Ano ?mother****ing? Mander Rake. I mean come on, this is the Summer?s Eve of deliveries, and no one wants to go there. Some things just can?t be washed away, like memories for instance, or image burned retinas. Though I digress, the Rake is bad mojo. We are all going to die, Mac, Chewie, and I. No one comes back from a delivery to the Moon. One time this guy named Jumbo Steve, the very same Jumbo Steve that owned and operated Jumbo Steve?s Delivery, he got that yellow sticky to the sky in an attempted Moon delivery. Rumor has it he didn?t even make it to the doorbell. Well, RPS Enterprises wasn?t going down like that, oh no, not only were we going to deliver that parcel, we were going to live. After that we were going to capitalize on it.
I am getting ahead of myself however, let?s go back in time you and me, to the RPS War Room where history was made and legends were born.
The transcript reads:
Sometime around midnight in the
RPS War Room, it?s smoky and ten-
sions are high along with everyone
else in the room?
Mac: We could try the Puma Two-Step.
It is said that it works nineteen percent
of the time all the time.
Chris: Oh that?s brilliant, Mac.
Just out of curiosity, can you actually
play a bagpipe with your?
Mac: Alright! Alright?I was just
throwing something out there to see if
Chewie: Nous pourrions toujours
essayer la confiture acoustique?
Chris: Chewie, ya are a genius!
Mac: What did he say?
We setup at the edge of the bottom step of the Moon, The RPS Trio at home now crowded into the empty space that spanned Grandma?s Persian rug. Chewie was percussion and drove the machine; Mac was on the lefty bass, which left me with the guitar and vocals on this particular trip. We stood huddled as if there was a biting wind, the parcel sat quietly upon the top stair with a pen and clipboard beside it. Socks had already jumped up and pawed the doorbell; he tried to get away real fast but the porch was painted wood and he couldn?t get a grip and had wolf-slip-a-phobia. It was hilarious. He got away before the door opened. If nothing else, at least we got as far as ringing the doorbell before we were too stupid to run away. Socks, is, was, and always will be the brains behind the operation.
Then he appeared, Anomander Rake, the guy is like seven feet tall with a sword six and half feet long that when you look at it, you see the darkness of your future. He is badass. Also has a habit of spreading his arms out to the side as he speaks. ?Look at me, look at me, driving and I won?t stop. Damn! It feels good to be alive and on top.? This was about the time his eyes flashed some ominous hue that spoke of famine and worlds-end, later Chewie would admit to pissing himself upon seeing it. ?My reach is global, my tower secure. My cause is noble, my power is pure!? Now he was holding up a fist, looking evil, like he was about to drop the hammer. ?I can??
So we cut him off and began to play.
?The thing that I tell ya now?
?It may not go over well
?And it may not be photo-op?
?In the way I spell it out...
?But you won?t hear from the messenger
?Don?t wanna know 'bout something that you don't understand,
?Ya got no fear of the underdog?
?That?s why ya will not survive...
Confiture Acoustique. Dead Air.
Many years have passed and no one has seen them since?