Enter G Mod

A cold wind was blowing in through the open window at the MFUJSF offices. Brick was holding a frozen steak to his eye, Shadow was reading “How to make a Lot of Money without Working Too Hard” and Tigerman was replacing the strings on his bass (an activity that is quite common since his sharp claws rip through the strings easily). No one had seen Slate since he knocked out Brick with a sucker punch. The sun was bright but the weather was deceptive like a femme fatale. Oh come on… What? That’s borderline sexist, if not sexist. Really? I was just going for an old school, hard-boiled detective style. You know where they talk about dames with legs that go on for miles. Really? Dames? And you wonder why the ladies don’t like you…I always thought that it was because I was a disembodied narrator stuck writing for this blog. You’re losing the plot here, genius! Oh, Right! Well the weather looked warm but was actually ice cold with an edge to the air like a knife made of ice. Better? Meh… *sighs*

Brick was tapping his foot nervously. He hadn’t seen G Mod since the band finished recording Notes From the Underground, the final track of their 2009 album, Love, Death, Loss & Redemption. It was a rough time for everyone involved. Slate was battling addiction problems, Brick was afflicted with insomnia, Shadow was shedding fur and Tigerman was having night terrors. With their four album contract complete, Brick declined to sign a new contract when G Mod offered it to him. MFUJ was promptly expelled from the gamespot building and thus wandered the streets for forty weeks (give or take twenty weeks). Really? You’re going to make that kind of comparison? What do you mean? You know what I mean. I don’t have time for this.

For a long time, it seemed like the band was dead. Their final song for gamespot records had basically declared in its first verse that Brick, Slate, Shadow or Tigerman were not real. How could you record something after that? After months of directionless wandering, Brick decided enough was enough and declared that even without a record company, the four of them were still a band and they were going to make music, even if it was on their own. From the ashes of Notes From the Underground came their battle cry “I Ain’t Dead Yet!”

Not sure if this was just a onetime thing or a new beginning, the band boldly declared that a new album was coming. That album would be Dead Falcon Rising. Would it be their rebirth as a band, or their last stand? I think we’ve pretty much caught you up with the band’s backstory by this point. What about Tigerman and Shadow’s histories?  Well, we need something to explore during the second half of the season. Oh ok… What’s that noise? Dammit, we’re behind schedule. The story is going on without us.

Without warning, the front door of the MFUJSF office building bursts open and G Mod struts in. With his leathery voice, slicked back hair and creepy thin facial hair, G Mod is everything the boys in MFUJ had tried to avoid in the two years since they quit working for the man. He still wears the same oversized tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his dark sunglasses pressed tightly against his eyes at all times, even while he sleeps which is a rare occurrence. Behind him is Slate dragging G Mod’s suitcases behind him.

Startled, the band members rise to their feet (or rear paws) uncertain of what to say to their estranged former taskmaster, I mean manager.

“Well, well…” G Mod says with his typical snarl. “I see that you boys aren’t doing too badly for yourselves. Mazel Tov.”

 “You’re not one of the chosen people!” Tigerman spurts out.

“Yeah, I’m not. But I’ve been dating this gorgeous woman who is. Every time we do it…”

“Ewww!” Brick shouts in protest. “We don’t want to hear about your nasty love life.”

G Mod chuckles, wiping the edge of his nose with the side of his thumb. “There’s nothing more beautiful than the love between a man and a woman, especially on all fours…”

Shadow, with his typical demure tone replies “I think what Brick meant was that the story of intercourse you were describing was repulsive because you were one of the participants in the aforementioned intercourse.”

“Oh?” G Mod asks with sleazy curiosity as he walks towards Brick, looking him up and down like a drill sergeant inspecting his troops. “Well, considering the fact that I’m the closest thing you have to a father, I’d figured you’d owe me a little respect. I did make you a star after all.”

“You’re nothing close to a father figure for me. I have a father…”

“You mean that washed up guitarist from that seventies band that no one remembers anymore? He was alright in his day but he didn’t have any staying power. That’s why he’s a hasbeen. By the way, when was the last time you saw pops?”

“…”

“Exactly.” G Mod declares with gusto. “Nice shiner you have. Having troubles keeping the morale up around here?”

Brick takes the frozen steak away from his eye and lobs it onto the table by the couch behind him.

“Why are you here?” Brick asks G Mod, getting all up in his face with that rebellious attitude he has. Oh snap! You know that’s right!

“Didn’t monkey boy tell you?  I’m here to get to work.”

“What?” Brick looks to Shadow, confused. “What’s he talking about, Shadow?”

With slumped shoulders, Shadow says “It’s true…G Mod is legally allowed to move in here with us and take over production of our current album.”

“How is this possible?” Brick asks, anxiety causing him to tremble.

“Check your lease agreement.” G Mod states with arrogance befitting a man much better looking and younger than himself.

  “Shadow?”

“Apparently one of the clauses of our lease allows him to take over whenever he wants to, as long as we occupy this space.”

“That’s bull!”

“No. It’s an ironclad contract you signed. The real estate agent who sold you this office space works for me. Ah, the Sans Full frontal…”

“That’s not the name and you know it.”

“Until the lease runs out, you all work for me. I own the rights to Mike’s F’d Up Journey. If you release anything, it needs my approval or I’ll slap you all with lawsuits. I know for a fact that you’re not good enough to make it with a change in band name after you’ve established yourselves as MFUJ for so long.” G Mod says victoriously as he plops himself down on the couch. “Don’t fight it, just accept it. Slate has, haven’t you boy?”

 The tattooed vocalist shakes his head like an obedient dog.

“Now go drop those bags off in my room, Slate. Tiger? You fix me a sandwich. My trip has left me a bit hungry. Brick…”

“No!” Brick grabs his denim jacket and runs out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Only Shadow and G Mod remain in the main room. G Mod taps the couch space next to him, signaling for the drummer to sit next to him, which he does, reluctantly.

“Are you satisfied?” Shadow asks.

“Yes, I am.” G Mod answers, cracking his greasy knuckles one at a time. “You’ve been a good little monkey, now haven’t you?”

“I feel disgusted with myself.”

“C’mon now, don’t be that way. You were always my most loyal spy. Don’t start growing a conscience now. You reported on the band’s activities to me all this time and made sure to sign the lease for this office like I told you to.”

“What are you up to, G Mod?”

“All in good time, Ape.” He says as he reaches into his pocket and gets a celebratory cigar to smoke.  “It’s good to be home.”

To Be Continued... (in June when we come back from break)