Author: mikeladano

Metal, hard rock, rock and roll! Record Store Tales & Reviews! Grab A Stack of Rock and more. Poking the bear since 2010.

Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures: Chapter 2 – Train of Consequences Part One – A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story (by Harrison Kopp)

Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures
Chapter 2:  Train of Consequence – Part One

A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story

By Harrison Kopp

Continued from Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures Chapter 1: Farao Way From Home

 

A lightning strike illuminated the bridge of the Kashmir, with the thunderous crash immediately after shaking the very foundations of the lead zeppelin.

That was too close. Harriet de Havilland thought to herself as she brought the massive airship portside. Knuckles white, she wrenched the wheel to the left in an attempt to keep the unwieldy aircraft out of the crosshairs of the fighter planes harrying it. A series of metal shrieks from aft informed her she had room to improve in this endeavour.

“Talk to me, people. What’s going on out there.”, she yelled over her shoulder into the airship’s intercom. A second later she added a second question to the first one.

“Jex, que se passe-t-il!” (“Jex, what’s going on!”)

“Nous avons de gros problèmes!” (“We have big problems!”), came the reply from Jex Cousteau. The Canadian soldier was about as skilled as they came, but even he was up against the odds trying to hit the small fighter planes with the large bulky guns the Kashmir had. Not to mention the almost complete lack of visibility that came from flying in a storm at night.

In the other gun turret things were a little better though.

“At least two fighters down and at least two more to go!” Jane “Sandy” Quartz cried from the port gun emplacement. The tough old woman was always a force to be reckoned with. In fact, she would have much rather been out there in her own plane taking them on head-to-head, but the stormy conditions would rip her biplane apart.

And as luck would have it, two of the searchlight operators on the Kashmir’s left bank had managed to locate one of the enemy planes and stick with it as it tried to roll out of sight. Sandy brought her guns around to line it up as it made on last futile attack run on the Kashmir. One squeeze of the trigger later and it was plummeting in pieces towards the ground below at high velocity.

“One left!”, she cried out.

“I don’t see him!” cried one of the searchlight operators.

A scream came from the right side of the airship and the accompanying searchlight dropped down limp and remained there.

“Merde!” (You should really know this one already :) ), the Frenchman in the gun turret cursed, now having only the lights of his own gun to help him pierce the darkness.

Bullets battered the hull of the Kashmir over the next minute as the final fighter assailed the airship uncontested. The aircraft was well-armoured, but it couldn’t withstand this attack forever. But there was one thing the Kashmir still had that the fighter pilot didn’t: a vexed Frenchman.

Fuel by the frustration of losing his searchlight operators, Jex decided to play by misfortune’s rules and cut the lights on his own gun. Still as a statue, he peered out into the murky darkness, scanning for one very specific sight.

Then he saw it: the muzzle flash.

“Je t’ai” (“I have you”), he confidently said, right before pulling the trigger.

The cannons hit true and split the plane into a myriad of pieces. Unfortunately for the zeppelin though, the plane had been on an attack run in very close proximity to the airship when it had been hit.

Bits of aeroplane ripped their way through the outer fuselage, striking several vital systems and causing untold destruction to the mechanical components of the airship. The craft lurched and began to sink down towards the ground.

“Why is my ship falling out of the sky!?” Harriet yelled into the intercom.

“Both engines are down!” cried Michelle LeCerveau from engineering. Hot steam was filling room up rapidly, and the inventor was forced to leave the chamber and seal off all vents to the interior. There was nothing more her or her team could do now. With both engines inoperative the chances of the Kashmir ever flying again after it hit the ground were miniscule, but if she survived the crash, she was as sure as hell going to try her best to make sure it happened

Back in the bridge Harriet was cursing up a storm, not that the one outside needed any encouragement. The rain-soaked front vieport had been difficult to see out of at the best of times, but a brief flash of lightning further away outside gave a glimpse of the surroundings.

Harriet’s eyes went wide. A massive mountain was right in the path of the airship. With nowhere to go and only the memory of a glimpse to go on she guided the nose as best she could towards what looked like a bit of flat ground by a cliffside.

“Brace for impact!” she yelled out, throwing her back against the wheel and putting her head between her knees.

Meanwhile, at approximately the imminent point of impact, one El Moustachio stood, looking out at the oncoming zeppelin. Though visibility was obscured, he had been able to see that the giant aircraft was coming right for him.

Turning on his heels, he sprinted to the side in an attempt to get out of the way of the falling zeppelin. He spied a ridge not far away that he could take cover behind and ran as fast as he could.

Almost there.

The thundering of the falling metal got louder.

Just a few more meters.

He jumped the ridge just as the aircraft hit the mountain, metal shrieking as parts contorted into unnatural shapes they were never meant to be in. The airship tore a deep gouge in the rock as it slowed to a stop just before the edge of the cliffside.

The zeppelin had barely come to a stop before Moustachio began sprinting back towards it. If there was a chance of survivors, he was going to do everything he could to help them. Luckily there didn’t appear to be any fire anywhere.

Reaching one of the doors, he just about wrenched it off its hinges getting it open.

“Is anyone alive in there! There’s an exit here!”, he yelled into the hatch.

A minute later a small number of people exited. It was fewer people than he would have liked to see, but it was better than nothing. He was helping carry the wounded away as the last few people exited the Kashmir. 

Harriet was among them, in conversation with one of the crew members. The instant she spotted a man she didn’t recognise (Moustachio) she drew her pistol in an instant and levelled it at his chest.

“Who are you!? How did you get here!?”, she yelled.

“Woah woah woah.” Moustachio replied, raising his hands and backing up slowly. “I’m not from around here. I just got here and I just want to help.”

“Like hell you do. Talk now.”

“My name is Harrison Holden. I’m not from around here. I’m only just got here and I’m just looking for a way to get home.”

“Not from around here?”, Harriet asked. “Then where are you from and why are you here?”

“Look.”, Moustachio calmly said “This is going to sound crazy, but I’m from…another universe.”

Most of the people around looked at Moustachio like he had just sprouted a second head from his left knee.

“What! You expect us to believe that?”, Harriet scoffed. “Sandy, do you buy this crock?”

“I don’t think he’s a spy.” Sandy mused. “I don’t think a spy wouldn’t risk everything on such a ridiculous cover story. But then again, maybe he knows that.”

“Fair points.”, Harriet replied. “Et vous Jex, tu penses qu’il pourrait être un espion?” (“And you Jex, do you think he might be a spy?”)

“Non. Cette moustache est très digne de confiance” (No, that moustache is very trustworthy.”), the Frenchman replied.

“Alright then.”, she said, addressing Moustachio and holstering the pistol. “It seems there might be a place for you with us if you want. I can’t guarantee we’ll ever be able to get you home, but we’ll certainly help people.”

“That will be enough for now.”, Moustachio replied, happy to be in the presence of people who weren’t trying to kill him anymore.

Harriet gestured to her compatriots nearby.

“This is Sandy. She’s our repository of wisdom.”

“I’m not that old!”, Sandy replied. “Don’t listen to her. I ‘m still a better fighter than her anyway.”

“Yeah well, we never got to finish that one now did we? I’d have had you in the second half.”

Sandy rolled her eyes.

“And this is Jex.” Harriet continued. “He’s a Canadian soldier giving us a hand. He’s technically on an “extended” shore leave so don’t go shouting his name out to all and sundry. Oh, and one more thing, you don’t happen to speak any French, do you?”

“Je parle en peu de français. (“I speak a bit of French”)”, Moustachio replied. “Mais je pense que j’ai oublié la plupart de mes connaissances de la langue, malheureusement” (“But I think I have forgotten the majority of my knowledge of the language, unfortunately”).

“I think you’ll manage alright.” She said with a smile. “Now let’s get a move on. We’re going to fall behind schedule any minute now.”

“Right.” Sandy said. “Jex and I will get everything we can carry from the aft cargo hold and then help get the horses saddled up.”

“Good idea.” Harriet replied. “Harrison, you’re with me. I need to fill you in on a few more things.”

 

“We’re called The Rovers”, Harriet explained as she and Moustachio walked through the innards of the airship. “We’re a group of mercenaries, misfits and Canadians dedicated to stopping the unchecked rampages of those who abuse their positions and power. Our current target is a vile business magnate called Tiberious Crawford who has been assembling himself a monopolous conglomerate of the entirety of Canadian industry through some very hostile takeovers.”

“I presume it was him that shot you down?”

“Yes, he has a bit of a private army of his own, including now, apparently, an airbase too. Anyway, this way, there’s someone you need to meet.”

The two had reached the engineering room, which in the time since the crash had been vented and now had several engineers climbing around the room with a variety of tools in hand.

“Harrison, this is Michelle LeCerveau, our resident brainiac.”, Harriet said gesturing to a woman who had taken a wrench to a very large pipe.

“A pleasure to meet you.”, she said, standing up and extending a grease-covered hand forward.

“Harrison Holden, at your service.”, replied the Australian.

“Good. Hold this.”, Michelle said, dumping a sooty pressure valve into his hands.

“How bad’s the damage?”, Harriet asked softly.

Michelle’s face fell.

“I’m so sorry but it just won’t ever be feasible to even try to repair it. We’re just salvaging the most valuable components now.”

In an instant Harriet’s demeanour changed. With a tortured cry she punched a nearby pipe, cracking it open and receiving a faceful of steam for her trouble.

Wordlessly she turned on her heels and stalked back up the hallway. After a brief pause, Moustachio followed behind her.

The two moved towards the front of the airship in a silence only occasionally punctuated by the hissing discharge of steam from one of the many pipes running under and overhead.

“I need a minute alone in my cabin.”, Harriet said weakly when they came upon a certain door. “The bridge is just up there. There are a few things we need to grab from it.”

Moustachio nodded and continued on through the hallway. Half a minute later he walked onto the bridge of the zeppelin. It was housed in the very front section, with the massive forward viewport looking out onto the valley behind where he had entered the universe. The sun had just begun to rise and light up the sky in a spectacular orange showcase.

Moustachio slowly walked up to the window and looked out. While it had only been a day or two since he had last been at home in Australia, it had felt like an eternity. He took a moment to take in and enjoy the peace.

“They’re so beautiful aren’t they”, came Sandy’s voice from behind Moustachio.

“Yes, it’s been too long since I’ve seen a sunrise.”, Moustachio replied as she came up alongside him. “Sometimes I wish I could just fly high, like a bird in the sky. Like an eagle. All your problems seem so small from up here”, Moustachio continued, his voice trailing off slightly.

“But they’re still there, you just don’t notice them until they’re bigger.” Sandy replied with a weak smile. “But don’t worry, I know that feeling. We’ll get you flying in a jiffy.”

Harriet had caught up with the two and had entered the bridge with a box of assorted items under her arm.

“Not in this ship anymore, I’m afraid.”

The two turned around to face her.

“Oh no.”, Sandy cried. “Is it that bad?”

“Yes, I’m afraid.” Harriet sadly replied. “Your plane survived with only a few snapped strings though. They’re fixing it up now as we speak.”

“That’s a relief, but it’s a small consolation in the grand scheme of things.”, Sandy said.

“Well, we have to take the small victories when they come. Anyway, they’ll be ready to set off any minute now so we’d better get going.”

Apparently there had been an entire stable somewhere on the airship, because there were now four horses hitched to a couple of carts outside The Kashmir. The surviving crew members had loaded everything they could fit onto them and were now perched atop them awaiting the green light to set off.

Harriet was the last person to need to get on. She was leaning against Sandy’s biplane as the latter woman conducted her pre-flight checks.

“Is there going to be enough room to take off?”, Harriet asked concerningly.

“Oh yeah. The cliff face drops straight down. I can throw this thing off the edge and have enough lift long before I hit the ground.”

“Alright”, Harriet said. “We’ll meet you there then.”

“You can count on it”, Sandy replied, pulling her goggles down over her eyes and firing up the engine.

Harriet jogged back to the carts and mounted one of the horses.

“Alright people, let’s move out!”

And so The Rovers began their slow descent down the rocky mountain path and into the valley.

The trip through the countryside took most of the day but was largely uneventful. Moustachio enjoyed the chance to slow down a bit and enjoy the trek through nature.

“So what is your universe like then?”, Harriet asked Harrison when the company stopped for lunch.

“Much like this one. A lot of the countries are same. A lot of the people too. I think I knew you guys in my home universe.”

“Wow, really!”, Harriet said. “What are we like?”

“Well, you guys are…well.. guys to be honest.”, Moustachio replied. “. Michelle’s guy is really smart. We call him The Brainiac. Jane goes by the name John Snow.”

Harriet snickered. Sandy hated winter.

“And what about me?”, she continued.

“I think we’re actually counterparts to be honest.”, Moustachio stated. It would make sense.

“Good thing I didn’t shoot you then.”, Harriet chuckled.

“I agree, though I may have a vested interest in that regard. I haven’t met anyone who I could say Jex is though. But he makes me excited to see who I’ll have in my universe to call Jex and to call my friend.”

“And what sort of technology do you have back in your home?”, Michelle asked.

“Oh, you’d love it. We’ve advanced about 80 years past where you are now. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff we have. We’ve even had people walk on the moon”, Moustachio said.

Michelle’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

“Tell me tell me tell me!”, she begged Moustachio.

“All in good time.”, Harriet said. “We’ve got a mission to focus on here first. Which reminds me- Harrison, how good are you with a gun?”

“I’ve shot them a few times. I’d say I’m probably a little better than the next man, but by no means an expert.”, Moustachio replied.

“That’s a good start.”, Harriet said, passing Moustachio a silver revolver. “We’ll give you a little refresher when we get to our destination.”

Moustachio rolled the weapon around in his hand. It was weighty but fit in his hand well. He hadn’t made a habit of using guns as part of his arsenal, but he wasn’t going to pass one up.

When in Rome. He thought to himself as he holstered the pistol and the group set off again. No sense in handicapping oneself if you didn’t have to.

After a few more enquiries about Moustachio’s universe of origin, the group set off again.

It was early evening, and the sun was setting as The Rovers arrived at their destination. It was a sizable homestead on a large plot of land. Sandy’s biplane could be seen parked in one of the nearby fields.

As they group got closer the door to the building was thrown open and out ran a very anxious Deryn Williamson, shortly followed by a similarly agitated Tracy Erikson and more relaxed Sandy.

“Oh thank god.”, Deryn said. “When Sandy said you’d crashed in the mountains I was so worried. Plus you could have missed the rendezvous.”

“We made good time thankfully.”, Harriet replied, shaking Deryn’s hand. “We just won’t have that extra day to rest and plan.”

“When have any of our plans ever gone to plan anyway?”, Sandy asked from behind Derryn.

“Quiet you.”, Harriet said with a smirk. “This one’s a good one.”

“If by ‘good’ you mean ‘crazy’, then yes.”, Tracy chimed in.

“Well fortune does favour the bold.”, Deryn said. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready and there’s plenty to go around.”

Moustachio and the others gathered inside the old house and sat down in an old dining room. It had been a little while since he’d sat down inside for a proper meal and he was starving. The banquet before him was the best thing he’d seen in a long time.

As the group ate, they regaled each other with stories of their latest exploits. Tales of betrayal and of love. Of victory and tragedy. Of history and dreams. By the time Moustachio turned in for the night he had a pretty good grasp of the recent history of his new home.

As he settled into a bed for the night, he thought of his friends back home. How he wished he could see them again. They would have loved to meet The Rovers.

Later that night, Sandy and Harriet were speaking in hushed whispers at the bottom of one of the staircases.

“Are you sure about this? I thought you didn’t trust him. Now you’ve given him a gun and told him our plan.”, Sandy said.

“I thought about it. There’s no way anyone could have predicted where we were going to be shot down and on what day. He has to be telling the truth. And if a spy’s good enough predict all that and gamble it on such an outlandish story, then they’re going to get us no matter what we try.”

Sandy was somewhat mollified by this. It was the same as her reasoning earlier anyway.

“Alright. Then we’d better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

To be continued…

 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

 

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

THREE-VIEW: Eric Carr – Rockology (2000/2023 RSD reissue)

ERIC CARR – Rockology (2000 EMI/2023 Culture Factory RSD CD release)

This release provoked a bit of controversy early in 2023.  Vinyl fans and collectors were pleased that Eric Carr’s collection of unfinished tracks, Rockology, was being reissued on LP.  They were doubly elated by the retro-1970s cover art that fit in with the original 1978 Kiss solo albums.  It even came with a poster to match the original four solo albums, and the CD was printed on a disc replicating a vinyl look.  The packaging, with obi-strip and brilliant black and orange coloration, looks sharp.  They even threw on five extra bonus tracks that weren’t on the 2000 release or 2011’s Unfinished Business.

Unfortunately, much like 2011’s Unfinished Business, the bonus tracks are hardly-listenable throwaways and castoffs that were never meant for public consumption.  What’s more, like all RSD releases, the LP and CD copies were so poorly distributed that fans were soon paying ridiculous amounts of cash on the second-hand market.  Music should be accessible and affordable to everyone, but this reissue was hardly worth it for what amounts to fancy packaging and five ragged unreleased tracks.

We’ll start this review by discussing the five bonus tracks.

Part One – the five bonus tracks

First up is a “long demo” of “Tiara”, a ballad from the original Rockology.  The original track was 4:28 and this “long” version is 23 seconds longer, but it is a completely different demo version.  It is much rougher and laden with occasional noise.  The lyrics are incomplete, as Eric improvises “do-do-do” vocals over  the instrumental opening.  Bruce Kulick provides overdubbed lead guitars, but sadly it sounds like a poor quality cassette.  This is the kind of thing we got too much of on the Unfinished Business CD.

Another “alternate demo” is next, of “Can You Feel It”, a song that Eric hoped Bryan Adams would cover.  Like “Tiara”, this demo is earlier and much rougher.  Similarly incomplete lyrics over a drum machine.  The liner notes claim it’s Eric Carr playing drums, but it’s obviously a drum machine.  Shoddy liner notes.

An “accapella” version of “Eyes of Love” is just a rough multitrack vocal take with no backing music.  It’s not the exact same vocal take used on the other demo version.  It is of limited enjoyment.  It doesn’t sound like there’s a pop guard on the microphone, therefore, lots of noise.

Finally, something we’ve really never heard before:  A 1967 version of the Beatles’ “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”.  This is a very rough sounding tape with lots of noise, but due to its age, we’ll allow.  It’s a fairly faithful take of the Beatles classic, with Eric on lead vocals and drums.  It features his band The Cellarmen and is the earliest Eric Carr recording yet to be released.  A difficult listen, but at least something of value.  You’d think they could have used AI noise reduction to get rid of that crackling sound.

The last of the five bonus tracks is a 1974 original called “Stranger” by his band Creation.  Eric is on drums alone this time, with bandmates John Henderson and Sarita Squires (also the songwriters) singing lead.  It is a decent soul-rock song and one of the better sounding recordings.  Though the drums are not the main feature of the song, and buried back in the mix, you can hear Eric’s personality shine through his fills.

Part Two – the original album (review posted 2018/06/19)

The late Kiss drummer Eric Carr was frustrated towards the end.  He was writing good material, but it was always being rejected by Paul and Gene.  In the press, Eric would tow the company line and explain that everybody else had such good songs, that there was no room for his.  In his heart, he was hurt and felt shunned.

Eric Carr wasn’t just a drummer.  He could sing lead, and he could write.  Kiss’ single “All Hell’s Breaking Loose” was an Eric idea.  He co-wrote “Don’t Leave Me Lonely” with Bryan Adams.  Although his writing credits on Kiss albums were sparse, he had plenty of material in the can.  2000’s Rockology is a series of those demos, some in a near-finished state and some left incomplete.  Much of this material was intended for a cartoon Eric was working on called The Rockheads.  10 years later, Bruce Kulick finished recording some guitar parts and mixed it for release.  He also wrote liner notes explaining the origins and Eric’s intentions for each track.

Eric didn’t have a particularly commercial voice, falling somewhere south of a Gene Simmons growl.  There’s no reason why Gene couldn’t have sung “Eyes of Love” from 1989, which has more balls than a lot of Hot in the Shade.  This demo has Eric on drums and bass, and Bruce Kulick on guitar with a solo overdubbed in 1999.  It doesn’t sound like a finished Kiss song, but it could have been tightened up to become one.  Same with the ballad “Everybody’s Waiting”.  It sounds custom written for Paul Stanley.  But it was 1989, and nothing was going to displace “Forever” from the album, nor should it have.

Many of the demos have no words.  “Heavy Metal Baby” features Eric scatting out a loose melody.  This heavy and chunky riff would have been perfect for the later Revenge album, had Eric lived.  In a strange twist, several of the best songs are instrumentals.  The hidden gem on this CD is the unfinished “Just Can’t Wait”.  It could have given Journey and Bon Jovi a run for their money.   Eric, Bruce and Adam Mitchell wrote it for Crazy Nights, and you can almost hear a killer chorus just waiting to leap out at you.  This potential hit could have been the best song on Crazy Nights, had it been finished.

“Mad Dog” has nothing to do with the Anvil song of the same name.  The chorus is there but the verses are a work in progress.  This hard rocker from 1987 was probably too heavy for what Kiss were doing, though it would have added some much needed groove.  “You Make Me Crazy” is in a similar state of completion and boasts a tap-tastic solo by Bruce.  Apparently this demo was originally called “Van Halen” and you can hear why.  Two versions of a song called “Nightmare” exist, including a really rough one without drums.  This incomplete song could have really been something special.  It has a dramatic feel and different moods, and was probably too sophisticated for Kiss, though any number of 80s rock bands would have been lucky to have such good material.

The last batch of tracks show off the Rockheads material.  Whether Eric’s cartoon idea ever would have happened or not, the advent of bobble-heads and Pops would have made marketing easy.   The songs are virtually complete though the drums are programmed.  “Too Cool For School” is a little cartoony, which is the point, right?  For keyboard ballads, “Tiara” showed promise.  It’s not the equal of “Reason to Live” but it demonstrates a side to Eric unheard before.  Next, Bruce says that they always wanted Bryan Adams to cover “Can You Feel It”.  It would have fit Adams like a nice jean jacket.  Not that Adams really needed the help, it would have been awesome on Waking Up the Neighbors.  The set closes with “Nasty Boys”, nothing exceptional.  It sounds like a song called “Nasty Boys” would sound…or anything by 80s Kiss really.

Part Three – the packaging and remastering

The selling point for the majority of fans for this reissue was the packaging.  The original cover featured Eric in 1989 or 1990, obviously without makeup.  The new version is designed to look like an Eraldo Caragati portrait matching the first four Kiss solo albums.  It does, after a fashion.  It doesn’t have the depth or realism of a Caragati, but it matches.  The aura colour is orange.  Inside, there is a poster that similar recalls the original four from 1978.

The liner notes from the original CD release are missing.  This is unfortunate.  As such you don’t get the stories or context or knowledge from Bruce Kulick about the background of these songs.  Instead you get a CD that looks like a record.  This is pressed in black plastic, and has actual ridges on the face side that look like record grooves.  The play of the CD is inhibited in no way by this.

The remastering is much louder.  It does sound like somebody messed with the tapes.  “Eyes of Love” sounds like it has more echo on the drums compared to the original.  Is this due to more echo being applied, or more being audible due to the raised volume?  Possibly just a listener-induced effect, but it does sound different.

If you want but don’t have Rockology yet, seek out the reissue.  If you’re dying to make a display of the five lookalike solo albums, get the reissue.  If you don’t feel like listening to rough demos with tape crackle bonus tracks, run away like a fox.

 

Original score: 3/5 stars

Reissue value:  1/5 stars

Original mikeladano.com review:  2014/04/24

#1105: Happy Winter Stories Vol. 2 – Snowforts With Bob

RECORD STORE TALES #1105: Happy Winter Stories Vol. 2 – Snowforts With Bob

A sequel to #972:  Snowfort Hippies

There is a saying that the indigenous peoples of the North have umpteen words for “snow”.  While there may be a kernal of truth to that, kids living in Canada know that there are in fact lots and lots and lots of different kinds of snow.

There’s wet globby snow that melts as soon as you pick it up.  There’s packing snow, perfect for snowballs.  There is light powdery snow that won’t clump together.  On one particular winter day in the early 80s, we had hard brick-like snow that allowed us to build an awesome snowfort.

Together with my sister, Bob Schipper and I ventured out one weekend morning with the intent to turn this snow into an igloo.  An igloo of sorts.  We didn’t have the snow or skill to do the roof properly, so we cheated a little.  My sister had a “Mr. Turtle Pool” — a green plastic pool about four or five feet wide.  Flipped upside down, that would make a perfect roof for our igloo.

Side note:  I keep thinking about how good our parents were to us.  We had everything we needed.  Turtle pools, bikes, video games, and most of all, freedom.  Freedom to make a mess of their yard and build this igloo right in the middle of the front lawn.

Snowpants on!  Boots, gloves, scarves, hats, and we were ready.  We had kiddie shovels at the ready.  The three of us started in the morning, and kept going for what seemed like the whole day.  Kids lose track of time, and moments become frozen.  We didn’t wear watches, and I rarely knew what time it was.  We just went out and didn’t come back in until we were bored.

Bob and I began collecting large brick-shaped clumps of snow, and assembling them in a circle – the rough outline of our igloo.  Then we began stacking them, and packing the gaps with more snow.  The snow was not easy to work with that day, and we frequently had to rebuild what we had started, but eventually, layer by layer, our igloo began taking shape.  We left a gap for the door and tested our construction to make sure there was room for three.  Time for a break.  We had a little shelf on one of the inner walls, perfect to hold a couple soda pop cans or drink boxes.   Up and up we built.  Good snow was in short supply as we got higher and higher, and we eventually capped it off with the turtle pool.

We were so proud of our little igloo!  We called mom and dad outside to look.  Unfortunately, they didn’t take any pictures.  It wasn’t like today.

The three of us huddled inside the igloo and relaxed after a day of hard work!  Soon it would be dark and we would have to go inside, but there was always tomorrow!  In the meantime, we sipped our drinks and enjoyed our fort.  We’d pretend there was a roaring storm outside and we were taking shelter from the elements.

The best kind of fun was the kind we made on our own.  We let our creativity flow, we burned our energy up, and we let our imaginations take us wherever it could.  Winter offered opportunities different from summers.  You could build a fort in the summer.  That was the exclusive property of the cold months.  It enabled us to use a different side of our creativity.  Later on, Bob studied architecture.  Take from that what you will.

 

Tim’s Vinyl Confessions: Ep. 490: Top 10 Least-Favoured KISS Songs – with Tim, Mike, Jex and Will

Says Tim:

This is exactly the type of episode I’ve long shied away from, something that could be seen as negative. However, we sure had a lot of fun putting this together, and filming it.

Here, Will sits in TVC Headquarters with me, and Jex and Ladano join us (with some written help from Matt) to cover our personal least favourite Kiss songs. I feel it is worth repeating: we are ALL massive Kiss fans, these are our opinions and no one else’s.

Your comments are welcome but please no personal attacks. None of what we say is meant as an affront to anyone’s personal tastes. Having said that, it was unquestionably fun to have a little dig at those Kiss songs that as fans, have always rubbed us the wrong way (which sounds like a discarded Gene Simmons lyric from the 80s).

 

MOVIE REVIEW: Mystique – Standing On the Firing Line (2022)

Note:  This review is of the new 96 minute cut of Mystique – Standing On the Firing Line. 

A collaboration with Jex!  For Jex Russell’s review, click here!

MYSTIQUE: STANDING ON THE FIRING LINE (2022, 2023 edition)

Directed by Marco D’Auria

“EPIC METAL” – Martin Popoff

They had the raw talent to make it.  They just needed a break.  They didn’t get it, but what they achieved instead was a legendary status with a handful of priceless releases left behind.  They were Mystique, a progressive heavy metal band from Hamilton Ontario.

Standing On the Firing Line is a 2022 documentary film by Marco D’Auria, finally shedding light on the history and music of this lesser-known band.  They always deserved more attention, and hopefully the film brings them that.  From the first shots of the band, the music of “No Return” assaults the senses with chopping riffs and unholy screams.  Why didn’t they make it?

The main driving force of Mystique from their beginnings to their demise were opera-trained singer Ray D’Auria (originally from Naples Italy), and perfectionist drummer John Davies, who had spent time in a few hard rock bands before Mystique.  Many other talented members joined and enhanced them along the way, but it was Ray and John who were there ’til the end.  The two met up when John auditioned for Ray’s band, Orion.  A friendship was formed, but the band wasn’t paying them the money they were owed.  They split as a pair and didn’t waste time starting their own thing.  15 year old Dave Dragos was a shredder – rated 2nd best in Canada at the time – and was first on board.  He introduced them to bassist Mark Arbour (a mixture of Geddy Lee and Chris Squire), and a solid band was formed.  A 1984 basement tape of “Black Rider” shows the nameless band had the goods.  It was Ray who blurted out “Mystique”, which felt right.

They found a rehearsal space, and added keyboardist Victor Barreiro.  The band practiced hard, and pushed each other to improve as musicians.  Davies tended to handle the business side, but they were attracting attention to themselves.  They found a manager (Ted Smirnios), money was borrowed, and songs were improved upon, until they were finally in shape to record.  Primitive but technically inventive tracks were recorded on 1/2″ tape, on a 16-track desk.  Not the best for sound quality, but good enough to get the songs down.  They went as far as to butcher a classic Leslie speaker to get a driving keyboard sound.

A stoned viewing of the animated Lord of the Rings movie captured John Davies, and inspired the song “Black Rider”.  The band had a sort of gothic bent in the mid-80s, but Ray D’Auria’s voice was appropriate for this progressive style of metal.  Journalist Martin Popoff remarks that the keyboards brought them into that progressive world.  Melodic guitar/keyboard solos took time to work out.  They were unafraid to play ballads, which Martin compares to a vintage Judas Priest dirge.  Mystique were a serious band!  The Black Rider EP impressed their peers for the playing if not the sound.  Popoff heard a strong Maiden influence, but compares more to Armored Saint and Odin with elements of power metal.  1000 copies were sold, an impressive amount.  Their manager got it as far away as Greece, and even accidentally set himself on fire as part of their stage show!

The band were doing well but dreams were not exceeded, and eventually members left for greener pastures, leaving Ray and John to rebuild.  Bizarrely, they met a talented French guitarist named Eric Nicolas in Jackson Square, and went to France to record their next demo:  1987’s I Am the King.  They struggled with the language barrier, and were recording digitally for the first time.  Ray blew everyone away with the “God note” that he held in “I Am the King”.  They were offered a record contract with Elektra in France, which didn’t pan out.  They brought the tapes home to Canada for release.

They added a new bassist, Les Wheeler, and evolved from metal to “hair”.  “The explosion in the costume factory look,” as described by Popoff, of their new extreme look that didn’t match their music.  “It looked good, from a distance,” jokes Ray.  Teenage girls loved their posters though!  Unfortunately having a guitar playing living in France was a barrier.  Wheeler broke his wrist in an accident.  A new lineup formed.  They felt forced to go more commercial, which resulted in the 1988 Poison-esque single “Rock and Roll Party Tonight”.  It was vastly different from “Black Rider”, but they went straight from that to recording a proper album, funded by EMI.  They taped 11 to 12 songs…but the album was never released and is partly lost today.  The masters tapes were sold and erased.  There were some good songs on that tape.  Ray, however, looks back at their change of direction as a mistake.  More shuffles in band members caused long breaks in activity, and the writing was on the wall.  Ray no longer identified with the music, and was the one to leave.  By 1989, their music was out of date anyway.

Manager Ted Smirnios is given a tremendous amount of credit for making Mystique happen.  It’s a touching part of the film.  The band members went their separate and sometimes surprising ways, but the story never really ends so long as people keep discovering the music.  Their releases are now valuable collectables today, worth a small fortune on the second-hand market.

Rare live clips and candid photos really bring an intimate look at Mystique.  You feel like you get to know the personalities.  This new edit of the film cut a substantial amount of footage, mostly interview footage with people who were there at the time.  The movie gains better pacing from this, as it just flies by in no time.  A new ending to the film brings us to the present day, and the movie’s theatrical premiere in front of a cheering audience.  The original cut might be considered for more hard-core viewers who want that “feels like being there” experience, but the current 96 minute edit is better for the enjoyment of Mystique.  It’s a much tighter and more direct story.  There is still plenty of unreleased music and vintage images.

Stay tuned for the mid-credit scene!

4.5/5 stars

The Writer’s Room: Snowman’s Gambit

Continued from Return of the Snowman

There he stood, in the flesh! John T. Snow had returned from whence he came, through a bright orange multiversal portal. He looked exactly the same as the day he vanished. Meanwhile, his friends in the Writer’s Room all had dark circles under their eyes from sheer worry. But worry no more, now that the Snowman was back! All their troubles were now over.

“Snowman!” shouted Mike as he ran in for an embrace. “What happened?”

Everyone crowded around John Snow. Harrison, Aaron and the 80s Metal Man all bore down for hugs.

“Easy guys! I haven’t been gone that long!” laughed the Snowman amidst the hugs.

“You were gone three weeks man!” answered Aaron. “We were worried sick!”

“That we were,” continued the 80s Metal Man. “We were having a meeting about it just now. The police considered us all suspects in your disappearance.”

“And I’m already on the phone with them,” concluded Harrison. “I’m glad I’m not going to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“You’re from a colony of prisoners!” joked Holen from his Zoom monitor. “I’m just kidding. Welcome back Snowman!”

“Thanks Holen! What did I miss?” said Snow as he took his corner seat at the Writer’s Table.

“You missed a lot…you’re just going to sit and continue where you left off?” asked Mike incredulously.

“I’ve only been gone 10 minutes,” said Snow. “By my time, anyway. See?” Snow showed his phone to everyone. Indeed, the time and date were only 10 minutes off from when he disappeared. “Now hand me some Simmons cola! Let’s get writing!”

“Not yet!” said the first cop entering the room. “We have some questions here for Mr. Houdini! How the hell did you get back in this room?”

“Officers, we will let you have the room to complete your investigation. We’ll be waiting outside.” Mike, Aaron, Harrison and Metal Man all filed out of the room and waited patiently for the police to finish their investigation and clear them of any wrongdoing.

It was several hours, and the writers were all tired when the police finally emerged from the room. The head cop went to talk to Mike.

“He’s not talking,” said the cop. “Nothing but gibberish about a portal, and having drinks with Elvis Presley, Bruce Lee and Liberace before returning. That’s all we can get out of him. Fortunately for you, the missing persons case is now closed. You are in the clear…but we will be keeping a close eye on the Writer’s Room. Good day sir.”

With that, the police were on their way out while the writers returned to the table. Snowman was sitting there sipping on a Simmons cola, with a huge smile on his face.

“John…” asked Mike as he took his seat. “Are you going to tell us what happened?”

“What did the cops tell you?” asked John as he sipped. “That I had drinks with Elvis, Liberace and Bruce Lee on a beach somewhere?”

“That’s exactly what they told us,” answered Aaron, “Which I don’t need to tell you is impossible.”

“Well, that’s where I was! The multiverse is great!” answered John. “And it’s all real!”

Harrison harrumphed. “I return to my point from our last meeting. It’s time to shut the Adventures of Tee Bone Man down. This is getting out of hand.”

80s Metal Man urged caution. “I advise we continue,” he said. “We have no evidence that anything bad has happened to anyone.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Holen from his monitor. “The reports I’m reading on the Dark Web indicate these portals are still opening all over the world.”

“But there’s no evidence that anything is connected to us,” countered the Metal Man.

“I’d say it’s too big to be a coincidence. Orange portals, just like in our stories? What harm can come from us stopping?” asked Aaron.

“Oh, we can’t stop!” said John Snow. “It’s too much fun to stop! We have to keep writing, and writing, and writing until the very end!”

“I call a vote,” said Mike as he stood. “There are six of us. In the case of a tie, I will be the deciding vote.” He then turned to look at the stoic Harrison. “Your vote, Harrison?”

“Shut it down,” he answered.

“I vote to shut it down as well,” answered Aaron.

“I still advise caution,” said the Metal Man. “Let’s keep going, I don’t believe there is any harm in us continuing.”

“I say shut it down,” said Holen from the monitors. “The portal reports worldwide are growing.”

“And I say let’s goooooooo!” screamed the Snowman. “I have so many ideas! We should be writing right now, not debating!”

Mike placed his head in his hands. He was hoping to avoid deciding this vote himself.

“I guess it’s my call. I really…I guess I don’t see any harm in continuing the story. It’s just words. I can’t explain what happened, but I also don’t think it’s connected to Tee Bone Man. If anything it’s a coincidence. Let’s continue.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Harrison, “but very well. Who has the next story idea?”

“I do!!” screamed John T. Snow. “I have the best idea!”

“OK, well, out with it Snowman,” said Mike. “Let’s change the mood at this table and start getting creative.”

“Here’s my idea!” screamed John. “Remember how we killed off Brainiac and Edie Van Heelin’ last year?”

“Yeah…” said Mike cautiously. “Best story arc from the Squirrel Saga was killing off those two characters. But we did that, due to California Girl quitting our story, and my feelings towards her. We had a reason to kill them both, to get that mess behind us.”

“Right!” said Snow. “And you yourself told me you think the current Multiverse Saga is getting messy and hard to follow, right?”

“I did say that once or twice,” answered Mike. “But I think we have a handle on it now.”

“Here’s my idea,” continued an enthusiastic Snow. “I say…we kill off Tee Bone Man next!”

Harrison stood. “We can’t! He’s our main character!”

“We have plenty of main characters!” screamed Snow. “You have a whole team of them, and you already killed off two of the biggest ones! Let’s kill Tee Bone Man! Let’s do it! Nobody can stop us from doing it!”

80s Metal Man responded. “I honestly don’t know why you want to kill our main character. Are you feeling OK, John? You seem different since returning.”

John T. Snow reacted with a huge laugh. “Of course I seem different! I just met Elvis! And loads of other characters too!” He scratched a spot on the back of his head repeatedly. “I just know it’s a great idea! Sales will go up double per issue, I guarantee it! It’s a comic book classic gimmick! Kill Tee Bone Man! Let’s do it!”

Aaron looked befuddled next to John. He couldn’t help but notice Snowman scratching the spot on his head. He stood to speak.

“I know some of us are bursting with creative energy right now,” said Aaron. “And that’s great. But I think we should call it a day, and re-convene another day. The rest of us here are clearly exhausted. Let’s not do anything until we’re all feeling rested.”

“I agree,” said Mike. “John, head home to your family. The rest of us will do the same. We’ll talk later.”

Everyone stood and hugged John. They filed out of the room one by one, each on his way back home. Everyone but Mike. He sat alone in the silent room.

“I have a bad feeling about this too,” he sighed. “Why does he want us to kill off Tee Bone Man? I don’t understand. It’s almost as if…” he paused. The next thought was too ridiculous to entertain. “It’s almost as if…someone wants Tee Bone Man to lose.”

Mike stood to leave.

“But who would want that?”

Somewhere out in the vast multiverse, a mechanical planet glowed in the cosmic background. A planet made of metal.

“But who would want Tee Bone Man to lose?”

Mike’s words echoed through the portals of time, down to the mechanical planet below.

“I would…” came a deep, throbbing voice. “I would like that very much…”

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

 

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

Noirison: Chapter Two – A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story (by Holen)

NOIRISON: Chapter One

A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story

By Holen

 

I woke up to a piercing brightness. Artificial brightness. I sat up slowly, but felt cold steel tug me back down at the wrist. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, and everything started to focus. I was in a hospital room, handcuffed to the bed. My old boss, Captain Mike Ladano, was sitting by the bed casually sipping a cup of what smelled like third rate coffee.

“Harrison. About damn time,” Ladano exclaimed, “happy to see me?” He rose from his chair and stood over me.

“Yeah. Seeing you in the morning gives me warm and fuzzy feelings. Like the good old days.”

“Morning?” he said incredulously. “You’ve been out for about fourteen hours, sport. It’s eight at night.”

A cursory glance at the clock, and the darkness out the window told me he wasn’t yanking my chain. I tugged at the handcuffs.

“Some new law about getting assaulted that I don’t know about?” I quipped.

“You’re a private dick now, Healey. Shouldn’t you know if there was some law like that on the books?”

“Cut the shit, Ladano. It’s been a long day or two.”

Mike displayed a twisted grin. He always got a kick out of me breaking his balls, because he knew that he was the one that ultimately held all the power in our relationship. He took a perverse pleasure in it.

“There’s no law about getting assaulted, but there’s an old one about being an accomplice to kidnapping. It’s typically frowned upon by polite society,” he revealed.

“Kidnapping? What are you going on about?”

He picked up a manilla envelope from the chair, pulled out a photo, and tossed it on my stomach. It was the picture of Savannah that Snow had given me back at his office.

“Savannah Severny. 18 years old. Of course you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Get to the point,” I urged.

“A witness saw her being dragged into a van by some brute around 4 am this morning. No one’s seen her or heard anything since. We showed up and found you lying in the parking lot with a busted head, and a picture that fits the witness’ description of the victim in your jacket.”

“You searched me while I was out?” I asked indignantly.

“Just doin’ my job, Healey. It was suspicious looking, you have to admit. I did a thorough search of your body. Mine’s bigger by the way.”

“What?” I was taken aback.

He pulled out my .45 and threw it on the bed.

“My gun. It’s bigger. More firepower,” he taunted. He reached into his pocket and came up with a key. He freed me of the handcuffs, and I rubbed my sore wrist instinctively.

Cutting to the chase, he blurted, “Look, I didn’t come here to compare pricks. We both know who would come out on top anyway. I know you didn’t have nothin’ to do with that kidnapping, but I needed to keep you here so I could ask you something. What the fuck is going on?”

“If I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Mike grew impatient, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Harrison. You did the best investigative police work on the force. I don’t buy for a second you don’t know shit about this girl, you Aussie bastard!”

“Look, I just got hired to find her last night,” I stated.

“You get hired to find her and then she really disappears? Ironic. Who’s the client?” he asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. You know I’m bound by confidentiality,” I reminded him. Clearly not what he wanted to hear, he hastily charged over to the bed and grabbed me by the shirt.

“Fuck confidentiality you dingo dicked dickhead! There’s an 18 year old out there missing! Her family hasn’t heard from her in months, and the first news they get is that she’s missing! What do you know you koala humping fuck bag? Who the fuck wanted you to find her, and why?”

“For Christ’s sake, Mike. She’s just two-bit a whore!” I yelled.

Bang. A swift smack upside the head. I saw stars. That’d be the third time I had my bell rung in under twenty four hours. My skull had to resemble the Liberty Bell at this point. I looked up at Mike, and saw the fire in his eyes dissipate. He looked down at his hand, appearing ashamed. He gently let go of me.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He turned away.

“Me too,” I assured him. I had spoken out of turn. I’d forgotten about his first case as head detective years ago. It concerned a blonde that looked a lot like Savannah. She ran out on her folks at 17, got mixed up with the wrong people, and OD’d on horse at age 19. He called in to respond to her overdose. The years hadn’t jaded him enough to be completely numb to such a thing yet. He roughed up the paramedics at the scene, kept injecting adrenaline into her, but it was too late. He almost lost his badge that day for behavior unbecoming of an officer, but the Chief cut him some slack considering the circumstances. Ladano had never been the same since. These days he looked like something that had been rode hard and put away wet. This Savannah case had to hit close to home for him. He slowly turned back to me.

“You really don’t know anything?” he sighed.

“She was in the middle of shooting a movie,” I offered. “That’s all I can really say at this point.”

“Skin flick?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so. It was for a big production company. Now that’s really all I can say. I shouldn’t even be telling you that, and you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Gotcha. Thanks for your cooperation.”

“Next time don’t cuff me to the bed like street scum if you wanna talk,” I said sarcastically, “just stop by the office. Why do people seem to be so averse to that?”

Ladano half-heartedly chuckled. He walked over to the door, but turned back around for one more wisecrack.

“What the hell happened to you, Healey? If you’d have kept your nose clean, you’d be in my position now. Now look at you.”

“I think I’m doin’ alright, all things considered,” I retorted, “I never was good at respecting the pecking order. Being my own boss was the only way to go.”

“Is that so?” he replied.

“Gives me the freedom to do what I need to for justice without the accountability,” I admitted.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” he grinned. “Take care, Harrison.” He walked out as I saw his silhouette disappear down the hall. Just as soon as he left, a voluptuous nurse strutted in the door carrying a tray of pills. She was a stunningly beautiful Hispanic woman, effortlessly iridescent.

“Ah, Mr. Healey. How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to hope those pills could put a horse out. I’ve got a high tolerance,” I confessed.

“Do you have a history of drug or alcohol abuse?” she asked with concern.

“Not if it keeps you from giving me those pain pills,” I joked. I winced in pain as a sharp sensation shot through my brain. “Come on, lady. My head feels like someone’s driving a spike through it.”

She gave me a glance like a stern librarian, the naughty kind. I flashed her a facetious pleading look of helplessness. With my face, it was irresistible. She grinned, rolled her eyes, and handed me the pills.

“Thank you,” I gratefully said. I popped the two pills into my mouth, downed the small cup of water, and stood up from the bed. “You got anything that will keep me awake on these things? I need to be sharp.” She sensually placed her hands on my chest, motioning for me to lie back down.

“I’m not a dealer, Mr. Healey. Now please, lie down.”

“I have a job to do. A young girl’s life may be in jeopardy,” I said stoically. “Guess I’ll have to get some uppers on the street.”

“That’s not funny,” she said, retracting her hands.

“You’re right. I guess I’ve used up all my good will here. I’ll be checking out now.”

“That’s inadvisable in your condition, Mr. Healey,” she warned.

“I’ve been worse. Trust me,” I assured her.

I began to leave the room, each step making all my muscles ache in tandem. I hoped those pills would kick in soon. Just as I was about to reach the hall, I turned around to look at the nurse one last time.

“I’ll look you up sometime,” I wryly promised. Her disappointed expression turned to one of erotic amusement.

“What makes you think I want you to?” she teased.

“What makes you think I care if you do?” I jested. The air seemed to moisten almost instantly. The woman had become a human humidifier.

She ripped off a piece of paper from my chart, produced a pen, scribbled on it, and then seductively strolled over to me, placing her body centimeters from mine, her feminine pheromones massaging my nostrils. She slowly placed the piece of paper in the front pocket of my pants, brushing her hand slowly against my inner leg as she pulled out.

“My name’s Milena. Call me sometime, Mr. Healey,” she whispered.

“Call me Harrison, and I’ll give you a ring when I’m free,” I cooly replied.

I winked and left the room. I heard her try to hide a groan when I had made some distance down the hall. I’d have to remember to call her when I was finished with the case. The way business had been before it, I figured I’d have plenty of time to do so. Of course, the way business had been during this case, it was more likely I’d be her patient again before I had the chance. That wasn’t important though. Savannah was out there somewhere, afraid, having who knows what done to her.

The lady at the desk stopped me and gave me a message. Someone had called for me here. There was no name, just a number. I had a pretty good idea who it was, but how did he know where I was?

I headed downstairs to a payphone and dialed the number. It rang once, and before I had a chance to say anything, Snow was already asking questions.

“Mr. Healey. Have you made any progress?”

“I got another concussion,” I joked.

“Most unfortunate, but I mean in Savannah’s case,” he said, unamused.

“She’s been kidnapped,” I informed him.

“What? That’s horrible! When?” he panicked.

“Last night. She was working at some strip joint, and a big guy threw her in a van when she got off. Nobody’s heard anything since,” I relayed.

“Is there a ransom demand? If there’s a ransom demand, tell them I’ll pay it. Whatever it takes to get her back, I’ll do it!” he exclaimed.

“Take a breath, Snow. I said nobody’s heard anything. And you don’t kidnap a stripper for ransom money. Unless somehow they knew she was connected with you,” I realized as I spoke. “What’s the nature of your relationship with Savannah? Clearly she’s not just another actress to you. What’s going on?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant to your case, Mr. Healey,” Snow curtly rebutted.

“That’s for me to decide, Snow. I’m the P.I., remember?” I reminded him.

“Call me when you have something, Healey,” he spat, hanging up. Rich bastard. This case was starting to stink worse than closing time at a 12 hour fish market. I needed to find Savannah, fast. Problem being, I was fresh out of leads. I decided to head back to the strip joint for a chat with the owner and a few of her pole dancing companions. This time, I was going to be extra vigilant. I wasn’t sure how much more pressure my noggin could sustain in such a short period of time. Luckily, my .45 usually kept even the most violence prone individuals civil enough for a brief discussion. I signed out of the hospital, walked out the doors, felt the cool January air on my skin, and began my walk to the strip joint. My muscles didn’t ache with my steps anymore. Pills must be kickin’ in. Hallelujah.

TO BE CONTINUED…

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

 

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

Thanks Bop! Receiver working again!

A big thanks to Boppin, who got my 7.1 surround sound receiver working again.

“What’s the make and model?” he asked.

I squinted and shone a light with my phone.

“Denon AVR-1910,” I emailed back.

He responded with two possible solutions.  One of which was simple:  a reset back to factory settings.

I asked what good that would do?  I was sure it wasn’t a settings issue.  Bop said that sometimes these things go into a “protected mode” after a power surge.  OK, that’s reasonable.

After returning home, I did a factory reset, and reconnected everything.  (I also replaced the cables in the troubleshooting process.)

Suddenly, everything came back to life!  Audio, video – all working again.

THANK YOU BOP FOR SAVING ME A LOT OF MONEY!

The Writer’s Room: Return of the Snowman

Continued from The Writer’s Room:  New Year’s Grieve!

 

“Hey guys,” said Mike as he entered the Writer’s Room.  The sullen faces of Harrison, Aaron, and the Metal Man looked back at him.  Missing, however, was their companion John Snow.  How should Mike begin?

“How should I begin?” he asked rhetorically.  “Last time we all met up, our friend John T. Snow was kidnapped through a multiversal portal.  You all saw it.  It was like our stories come to life.”

There was muttering around the table.  Troubled muttering from the smaller group of friends.  It was Harrison who brought the table to order.

“I don’t understand,” he said with unusual worry in his voice.  “It was as if my own Lego art had come to life.  The orange portal.  It opened right behind John.  Then I saw a pair of hands snatch him away as he screamed for help.”

“I saw it too,” said Aaron.  “I still can’t believe my eyes.”

“Nor I mine,” agreed the Metal Man.  “I am worried about the fabric of our reality.”

“What’s the latest report from the police?” asked Harrison of Mike.

“Where do I begin…again?” signed Mike.  “Both Canadian and American police forces are still looking at all of us as suspects.  They have the video footage from Holen’s webcam.  They all saw what happened.  They just don’t believe it.  And I can’t blame them.  To them, all they know is an American citizen walked into this room and never walked out.  And we were the only people to witness it.”

As if on cue, Holen’s monitor came to life.  As usual, his image was distorted and noisy, but that only added to his sense of mystique.

“Hey guys,” he greeted the table.  “Sorry I’m late.  I’ve been working and I have news.”

“Holen, thank goodness, please, tell us,” said Mike to the screen.

“Well,” began Holen, “I have done some digging around the Dark Web, and I can tell you something very interesting.  These orange portals…it was not an isolated incident.  There are 14 reports from 11 different countries, of similar phenomenon.  A bright, orange, circular portal opens and someone or something emerges from the other side.  Now, this is where the reports start to differ wildly and we must be scrutinous.  Some people reported robots coming through.  Others saw Satan himself.  One guy claimed that Elvis, Bruce Lee and Liberace were on the other side, drinking margaritas.  I think we can discount that one.  But here’s the thing guys.  Five of the reports could be interpreted to include characters from our stories.  I’m not kidding.”

There were gasps.  A few jaws on the floor.

“Go on Holen.  Which characters?” asked Metal Man.

“Satan is one.  The robot is two – relating to a story that Harrison and Mike are writing.  Tommy Lee appears in one report, that’s three.  A monster resembling our parademons was sketched by another witness.  And finally…finally…”  Holen paused.  “Well, see for yourself.”  Holen put the image from the report on the screen.

“That’s…that’s…” said Mike in awe.

“Yes.  It is.  A clean-shaven Harrison Kopp,” finished Holen.  “Just like our character of Shinzon.  A character we invented.  Or rather, a character Mike invented.  And now here he is in a portal report from, you guessed it, Australia.”

“Impossible!” said Mike, pounding his fist on the table in frustration.  “Impossible!”

“But there it is,” said a solemn Holen.

The usual stoic Harrison was rattled.  He was clearly shaken by the image before him.  He hadn’t seen himself clean shaven since he was a child.  He hardly recognized himself…but he did.

“I elect we shut down the Adventures of Tee Bone Man immediately,” said Harrison, very quietly.  “This has gotten out of hand.  We are meddling with powers greater than that dreamed of in our philosophy.  If what we are writing becomes real…well, it’s all over.”

Mike turned white as a ghost.

“Harrison…it’s not real.  He’s not real.  The Eater of Worlds.  He’s not real,” cautioned Mike.

“But what if he is?” asked Harrison without a hint of rhetoric.  “We have to consider the possible.”

Aaron raised his hands.  “Excuse me.  Who’s the Eater of Worlds?”

“He’s the Big Bad at the end of the Multiverse Saga of Tee Bone Man,” answered Mike.  “We stole a character from another franchise to be our villain behind everything.”

“Like Galactus?” asked Aaron.

“Like Galactus, yes,” answered Mike.  “But he’s not real.  He’s a character they invented back in the mid-80’s to sell toys to kids.  He’s not real!”

“But if he was…” said Harrison in the most ominous voice anyone had ever heard from him, “…he would be our ultimate doom.”

Mike got a shiver up his back.  But it was impossible.  They were just a group of friends, making up a story.  None of it was real.  In real life, Tee Bone was just a guy, a nice guy who didn’t fly or battle dragons.  John T. Snow…was just a guy who collected music; he wasn’t an eccentric billionaire.  How could these characters they were writing about be appearing in real life places?

Metal Man spoke in a calm, rational voice.  “It could be these are all just coincidences.  I think for now, we should discount them, and return our focus to the search for John Snow.  Has anyone resembling him or Richard Dreyfuss appeared in your searches, Holen?”

“I hadn’t thought of searching for Dreyfuss sightings.  Let me run a few keywords,” said the image on the monitor.

Aaron sat silent, solemnly waiting.  Not a single “Wahoo!” or “Give’r!” from him this time.  He then spoke.  “I have to be honest, I’m more worried about John than I am of the suspicious cops, thinking we did it.  We didn’t, and there’s no evidence.  We’ll be fine.  But John…I saw him disappear!  Before my eyes!  I’ve never seen anything like it and I hope he’s OK.”

Suddenly Holen spoke.  “Guys…we just had a Dreyfuss sighting.”  Holen pointed from his screen, to a point behind the men sitting at the table.  They all turned, and looked.

“Hi guys,” said a voice as a man stepped out of an orange portal.  “I’m back!”

The Richard Dreyfuss lookalike waved and smiled.  The orange portal closed behind.  John T. Snow was back!

TO BE CONTINUED…

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

 

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM