And so the 50th blog entry came and went and there was no second MFUJ webisode to be found. Oh noes! Oh noes indeed. The MFUJ offices were full of tension and dismay as Brick, the band’s leader, had cut his hair, released a solo cover medley and just totally began making up for time lost on self-pity and pining away for a love he could never find.
The floor plan to the office began to resemble a map of warring states. The main office area was held by the faction of G Mod, the sinister though sometimes obtuse manager of MFUJ, and Slate, the libidinous front man and occasional singer (when he wasn’t busy showing off his package to unsuspecting members of the fairer sex http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/06/slate-tweets-blurry-photos-of-his.html). The basement is home camp to Shadow, the intelligent but greedy drummer with a strong guilt trip that was just waiting to burst (http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/08/shadow-saw-description-for-rock-video.html). The kitchen was the domain of Tigerman, the band’s lovesick bassist with a childlike naiveté when it comes to love i.e. he believed that a woman could actual love a 6 foot tall tiger creature whose only skills in life were playing bass and writing love letters http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/08/shadow-saw-description-for-rock-video.html). The upstairs suite was where Brick spent most of his days.
It was there, behind closed doors, that he was not only working on his guitar chops by finally learning some damn scales but also working on actual music. He had unearthed a lost treasure(?) recorded way back in 2008 during the sessions for the original MFUJ album based on lyrics that Slate had scribbled into a notebook during his long exile: Choking on Insanity (G Mod Says to listen to this song now! http://www.reverbnation.com/play_now/song_10661993 ) He was also working on a brand new song called “We are the 99!” which might possibly have been the single for his solo album if he could somehow escape the shackles of the MFUJ machine.
While Brick was busy with old punk songs and mixed metaphors, G Mod was busy plotting the band’s second webisode with Slate downstairs.
“We’ll start off with the G Mod credit sequence” the repulsive megalomaniac began.
“What about starting with a skit?” asked the tattooed singer, “You know, like last time?” http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/08/boys-are-back-in-towner-on-screen-debut.html
“And put up with your limitations as an actor? No thanks, dragon boy.”
“I don’t think it was that bad…”
“Really?”, replied the wry manager as he lowered his sunglasses.
“It was all Brick’s fault. He kept pining after…”
“No. Don’t say her name.”
“Why? It’s not like she’ll even read this.”
“It’s for legal reasons.”
“But he showed her name on his iPod during the episode. The song is named after her.”
“Enough. I don’t want any discussion of broads on my time, understand?”
“Broads? Sheesh. And Brick thinks my lingo is outdated. That was some gnarly anachronism there, chief.”
“Now after the opening credits and my little speech, I think we’ll have the tiger do some little skit to build on his ‘to my first wife’ series.”
“What?! That furball gets a segment and I don’t?”
“You blew it, kid. The cat gets his turn this time.”
“Whatever…” replies the deflated Slate.
G Mod makes a few notes on his yellow notepad:
-Open episode with the lovesick pussycat.
- Don’t let Slate hog the camera…again.
-Find the phone number for that sexy waitress from that diner I was at last night. What was her name? Trixie? Daisy? Bessie? Why am I listing cow names? Was that a diner or did I pass out in a barn again? Gotta take it easy. This job is killing me.
-Get more milk.
While Slate was being ignored, Shadow was pacing around the basement ,a drumstick in each hand. After doing twenty laps around the rugged old rug, the contemplative drummer stood in the center of the room, facing the wall of mirrors that the band used for low budget music videos.
“I’m standing in a room filled with nothing but the reverberations of my voice. No one but me can hear the sound as it bounces off the walls and back at me. If no one else hears the noise, does that mean there isn’t any? And if there isn’t any, does that mean that I am an illusion, even to myself?”
On a slightly less existential note, Tigerman made himself a pizza using a loaf of garlic bread, some spaghetti sauce and some havarti cheese from the fridge. Yes, it’s good to have the kitchen all to yourself if you’re a 6 foot tall tiger creature-thingy.
Stay tuned for more meandering updates leading up to the big season finale… we hope.
Take it away, Boston. Please…
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