The mozstory: part 4 of part 3

S

suzanne

Guest
"We have a tank full of gas. We can get out of here. Why are we still here?" Gary asked. "There isn't any Steve Lillywhite out here in the woods. Christ, I mean, think about it."

"It doesn't mean we can't take a quick look around," Boz answered without a pause as he put his coat on.

"I don't think I've ever seen Steve even go outside without shoes and not doused in insect repellant."
"So, tell us what we can do?"
"Call the police."
"And tell them that we all lost consciousness and someone ate a Snicker's bar in the bus in the meantime? Gaz, we're in a band. Police get calls like this all the time from blokes like us."
"But why would we have to tell them-Renato," he said halting his train of thought, "you're the only chap here who has a brain. You're the one who figured out it was Steve for christs' sake. What do you think?"
"Do I get a raise?"
"What?"
"You guys make more money than I do, and here I am once again stepping up to the plate? Ha!"
"Again?" Gary asked dumbfounded.
"Whatever," he corrected himself. "Look, sirs, this is not a coincidence. I don't know what THAT was," he gestured to the area indicating the past several hours, "but we're here."
"It's not @#!!!ing ninja turtle time," Gary exasperated. "I know that this is not Britain. You can outrun knuckle dusters, and some bloke with a night stick, but these people call out the bloody SWAT team for shoplifting."
"Yeah?" countered Alain, who was now stretching from his nap, "I also know we're not in Michigan, either. This is Pepperidge farm country. What are they going to do? Throw cookies in the shape of ninja stars at us?"
"Hmm. That sounds quite tasty!" smacked Boz.
But as much as Gary could argue, he just didn't realize that there was something else going on. It fell during the night like pixie dust. No Black Francis was involved with this. There was something intangible they should have all succumbed to, and sometimes, he could feel his own mind floating back and forth into that haze where it all made sense. Steve Lillywhite would indeed come onto their bus sometime in the middle of the night without rousing the sleeping passengers. Yes, and the gas take would fill itself up. We have the option of leaving. We do, but it will still be waiting for us after we make our quick walk through the edge of the Black Hills. That's all we need. One quick look through the woods. Everything will be OK. We won't stray that far. No, we won't. The answer is there. It is. It can't be that far.
"I won't be going. I'll wait and watch the bus." Gary made his reluctant verdict.
The rest looked at each other.
"The bus won't go anywhere. It is safe." Renato looked dead at him.
"I feel better*"
"I can tell you nothing will happen. Let's go Gary," he said softly. The group started unloading off of the bus.
Boz-"Does this have anything to do with the legend?"
Gary-"I don't think so."
Boz-"Gary, remember, the witch doesn't do anything until the sun is down. We have the entire day ahead of us. If that makes you feel better."
Alain-"Quit being a weiner!"

**
While the group got lost in pointless arguing, Morrissey was resting at the Omni hotel in Charleston.
"Umberto, have you heard anything? They were supposed to call from the La Quinta when they got to town."
"No, I'm sorry that they haven't."
Moz lay pool-side pondering another song.
"Umberto, what do you think of the concept for this one: It's about a boy who works at a department store, but he is very lonely and depressed because he is not like the other blokes working in cooking ware."
"Very original," he poured a bottle of Evian for the relaxed figure.
"Yeah, you think so?" he thought without really waiting for an answer, "I don't know. I feel like that theme has been done before."
"By who, sir?"
"I'm not sure," he heaved his shoulders in very mild frustration.
"It's not the stuff of MTV."
"Oh, Umberto, you just earned your pay for this week," he smiled lazily.
"Thank you."
"Oh! Take this down for me*"
Umberto grabbed for the mile high stack of postcards laying next to the chaise.
"Dear Santa*."
**
The early November deadness crunched under their feet.
It was that bleak in between the landscape suffered between the foliage and the first snow that would be arriving weeks from that day. Enough biting cold to make them retreat into their coats, and not enough for the severity that could completely desolate them. It gave the air that odor of wood burning. A chimney may have been puffing smoke away somewhere, but there was only a hint of smoky flavor hanging in the air.
The leaves had fallen away revealing the twisted arms of the hundred year old oaks underneath. The thin tips were now grabbing vainly at the light. The moon made a mid-day appearance, not quite full, but well past the quarter mark. A rushing sound which resembled cars on a distant highway provided a steady hum for the Black Hills visitors to mostly ignore.
They did make a small sweep near the bus. Were those footprints? The ground was slightly ruffled in a definite trailThey couldn't exactly tell. That would mean going in a little deeper. Were they up for it? Gary had a better idea.
"You guys go that way. FAR in that direction. I will be looking way over here. I'm still in the woods. I'm not out."
"Are you sure?" asked Renato.
"Yes, yes. I'll still be in earshot. I just want to look over here."
"Why?"
"Don't ask why. Jeez."
Gary backed up cautiously keeping an eye on where the others were. They seemed comfortable with this idea. He then drew his eyes upward and looked at the cover of tree limbs. The few which clung to their leaves swayed hypnotically overhead, shifting and revealing the sun in sporadic patterns. He turned around and noticed the woods looked a bit denser than he remembered coming in. The path below his feet was quickly being swallowed up. The leaves on the branches overhead were falling silently onto where his feet had tread, covering any evidence of where the group had entered the woods.
In front of him, the path remained clear and expectant. Boz, Renato, and Alain made their way in.
**
"It's not everyday that we have the resources of drummers who were once geneticists."
Spike drew on his cigarette and aimed the smoke carefully out one side of his mouth, away from the driver. "Mate, you don't need a geneticist."
"Sure we do."
"Whose we?"
"All of us. The planet. The good people of the US of A. Think of your home in England."
The voice was really trying to sell it.
"I'm Welsh, you know."
"But what would you do for good TV? Without the US, you have shows about sheep."
"I think we can live without Friends."
"How dare you diss this country?" the voice slipped.
**
She sat in the edit bay pondering her next entertainment piece.
"Hey, Trey," she leaned on her chair extending her voice to the nearest desk, "I'm reviewing this new movie about the Holocaust. Should I say that the story was 'neat' or 'really cool'?"
"Um," he paused for a second, "what were the special effects like?"
"I don't know. The people looked pretty bunged up and everything."
"How so?"
"They had scrapes and shaved heads and tattoos with numbers on their arms."
"But what about the experiments?"
"Which experiments?" she asked thinking he meant drugs.
"The ones with the German scientist Gobbles something or other."
"Oh yeah! That dude! You mean where he gave the jews radiation?"
"I think that's the one. Did it look like maybe the Jews were mutating, like growing another head?"
"No. I think they had cancer."
"Hmmm." He puzzled over it a bit. "I don't think that sounds like a 'very cool' type movie."
"Yeah, you're right. They didn't sprout another head and destroy the lab. I would say that this movie is more*.."
Both Julie and Trey nodded very slowly together waiting for the agreed word to pop out.
"Neat. Yes, neat. I don't remember once in the movie saying, 'oh man, that was so cool!' So, yes, neat."
"Good choice Julie."
Her momentary writer's block having been cleared, she wrote on, inspired. She was very proud to be using her skills for the Fox corporation.
She came out of the edit bay after pondering the clips she would use.
"Thanks, Trey. I was stuck on that one for several minutes."
"No problem."
"So how is your story turning out?"
"Well, Julie, I don't think it's as 'neat' as yours," he smiled at her, "but it's working well."
"Were you able to tie the holocaust in to tonight's episode of Malcolm in the Middle like Danny asked you to?"
"Brilliantly! Who knew a show about 4 young boys had so much to do with war. I mean, you've got the military academy Francis goes to. Boot camp for boys in need of discipline. After that, it basically writes itself."
Pam the news director looked over and saw that those two were shooting the breeze as usual. This was a good sign because those two needed each other to help the creative process poke along. If they were parts of a brain, Julie would be the pituitary gland and Trey would be the occular nerve. Neither being able to function separately or together, they needed the rest of the brain, Pam, to kick them into gear.
"Hey, guys." She waved them over.
"Yo!" Trey jumps up and hurdles over a desk.
"I've got word from corporate about something new that is popping up. You guys may want to do a package on it."
"We're here for ya boss!" Trey said in his lame superman impersonation.
"According to Fox News, there have been some stars from the record industry disappearing, and even reports of dead ones coming back to life.
"Whoa, hey! That sounds really cool!" Julie enthused.
"There ya go!" Trey said, interrupting her.
"No, you two, this is serious. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and there is no prescedent for this."
Pam was not mindful that she basically said the same thing twice.
"So, this is the game plan: Fox programming is producing a two hour series called 'When Zombie Musicians Attack' pre-empting their primetime programming on Wednesday night."
"But boss, have any musicians attacked anyone?"
"No, but we do have surveillance footage from an ATM showing Jarvis Cocker walking around two weeks ago."
"That sounds like a very short story. What will they do with the rest of the time?" Julie asked.
"I haven't read the fax that carefully, but from what I understand, they are going to select 8 couples of beautiful twenty-somethings whose relationships are in trouble, and send them out hunting for Jarvis live on TV. All will be scantily clad, and each person will be paired up with someone other than their dating partner. At the end of the show, they have the option of continuing their hunt for Jarvis in a tub full of jello, or returning back to their dating partner where they can be married in the Grand Canyon as Robbie Knievel does a death-defying stunt over their heads."
"Wow! That's really cool! Yeah, we should have a series of stories leading up to it! Like if we found some local musicians and Ian Zeiring's band is going to be performing live."
"Great!" enthused Julie.
"Let's get this show on the road! High Five! High Five!"




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