Paul closed his office door and picked up the phone. "Leo, I think we've got a deal."
The voice on the other end of the line just sighed. "Paul, we've been through this before, but let's do it again. Leo is dead. Even before then, he left the company. We're Fender Musical Instruments Company now. You wouldn't call Gibson and ask to talk to Orville, would you?"
"I talked to Orville just last week!" Paul shouted. Then he muttered, "Well, I thought it was Orville. It sounded like him, but the room was kind of smoky. Anyway, that's not why I called. I've decided to take you up on your offer, if it still stands."
The voice on the other end paused. "You're aware of what this means, right? And there's no going back - so you'd better be sure."
Paul said, "I am. Let's do it. But just to be sure we're clear - the deal is Zach Meyers and Orianthi for John 5 and Eric Johnson, right?"
The voice said, "Are you sure I can't get you to throw in Davy Knowles for Yngwie Malmsteen?"
Paul said, "Positive - the way Davy talks makes my ears tingle. He insists it's just an accent, but I still think he's a leprechaun."
"I watched approximately 45 seconds of 'Rock Of Ages'. It was like getting punched in the soul." - Abby Krizner
... and with that last muttering of the unholy word "Leprechaun", the exact 666th time he had said the word, a crack in the plate tectonics under Luxor casino in Las Vegas appeared directly under the high-stakes crap table.
The entire strip felt the aftershock, two gentlemen in the "All-Nite" korean nail salon shared an alarmed glance, "Could this really be happening?" The look of panic on the gentleman named Sergio; who was getting an as-masculine-as-possible-french-tipped silver and gold pedicure with sparkles, alarmed Rango; who had opted for a classic clear-coat, of the unthinkable...... The Leprechaun hath returned!!!!!
Last edited by sergiodeblanc; 02-23-2013 at 01:23 AM.
Inside the "All Nite" nail salon there was panic, a panic that when mixed with the smell of acetone exuded a fragrance of hysteria. The lead nail technician who went by the american name of Linda remarked: "Om my gord! The regend of Red Romen is True!!! we all goring to die!!" Linda was not asian mind you, just terribly racist,. she was in fact a polish girl who thought that some eyeliner and a horrible accent would lead her to the top of her profession as a nail technician. She was sorely mistaken and would die a death befit of a racist stereotype by early next chapter, so don't get all upset yet.
Sergio, after feeling the aftershock, immediately tried to end his pedicure and see what was happening outside, "Hey misteer! You end pedicure, you no get Groupon disscount!" Linda yelled.
"Lady! There's a freakin' Red-haired leprechaun molesting a grey furry-covered Fender M-80 half-stack on the top of Circus-Circus!" Sergio yelled, "You think I care about a Groupon?!"
The termination of Rango's Groupon discount shook him to the core. Across the room a low, soulful wail passed across Rango's lips: "Mwah... Groupon?!!... No Good!?!" It had the timbre of a thousand children who had dropped their ice cream cone on a summer day and the aroma of fresh heartbreak, Rango was destroyed on the inside.
"You realize Sergio.... I had to lie to the wife and tell her that I was going to the strip-club, she only let me leave the house with a twenty dollar bill out of fear that I might put a down payment on a "Paul's Guitar"! Ain't no way I'm getting jacked over not leavin' a tip for this crazy Linda chick! Sit your a$$ down, we gettin' this here Groupon!!!" Rango said.
"But the freakin' Leprechaun is back!!" Sergio says: " I told you we should've got Lee press ons!!"
Just then the speaker cable from the molested M-80 amp flies through the front window barley scuffing Rango's freshly buffed pedicure; "Im a peaceful man" Rango exclaims; " But ain't no troll goin' to mess up ma toes!"
Linda, who was by now laying in a front window sill directly under an extremely unstable pointed glass shard with a cheesy 1980's Patrick Nagel inspired cling-on decal said: "There is onry one ting dat can kill the reprechaun...... sigh.... you must find the. (choke)...one.... the one guitar,,,, that can.(cough).. stop... him...
Immediately following her unexplained knowledge of what it will require to send the evil leprechaun back to his lair, the "All Nite" nail salon suffers another aftershock that releases the Nagel-Bomb unto her neckline....... What? It's a somewhat just end to her, she was a total jerk.
Alan and Sergio: Genius, this stuff is great!
Last edited by LSchefman; 02-23-2013 at 09:14 AM.
My name has been spoken....in vain. Were you guys wearing yarmulkes when spouting my name?
The cult of the Oyster has been aroused. Who is this Opraman that you speak of??? Beware, the wrath of Ned the Destroyer!!!!
This is how I woke up this morning, before I found this thread....
This is me, on the right, after the transformation...
Last edited by docbennett; 02-23-2013 at 09:48 AM.
Look, um, Ned, Nedster, here's the deal:
1. Being a character is a sign of affection from your fellow forum members. Few people are accorded this privilege.
2. Opraman is a name that comes from a Saturday Night Live character that bears a resemblance to your name.
2. Even if there were supernatural beings, you ain't one of them, so simmer down, no yarmulke is needed.
It's a story, names are needed and they make the whole thing more fun. Accept the honor graciously and STFU. Or better yet, participate.
Incidentally, I don't really wear a diaper. Yet. See, it's a fun story and I can make fun of myself.
Last edited by LSchefman; 02-23-2013 at 11:05 AM.
I swear I think I check in hear half the time to see what the heck you two are debating or arguing about each day!
The news of the return of "Red Omen" as one CNN reporter called him, and was thus blindly repeated by every other lazy journalist who merely fact-check their stories by watching CNN, spread across the globe like a rash you you get from using the showers at a YMCA.
The cowbell in Oppraman's office was ringing in violent short bursts, it would have alarmed him if he was within ear shot of the cowbell alarm, but instead Bennet sat in the screened-in porch of his New Jersey home smoking "Halflings' Leaf" and listening to BOC at extreme volume. After twenty minutes of spastically half-moshing to "Reaper" Oppraman left the porch to go to the kitchen for a post smoke snack of matzo and gefilte fish.
Upon passing his office he noticed the cowbell alarm now looked like a crushed DR. Pepper can; "What the?" said Bennet, "I guess ol' Ell either had indian food last night or something must be terribly wrong!" He decided to skip the matzo and give him a call.
"Squirt" answered Ell
"Squirt? What the heck do you mean by that Ell? Here I am calling to see if you're feeling alright and you immediately insult me!?" said Bennet.
"Squirt!" Ell replied, "Squirt.. Leprechaun.. Ginger... Vegas... hamburger!"
Bennet was fuming,; " Now wait just a second you old pants wetter! You can call me anything you want, but if you talk that way about my wife I will DESTROY YOU!!"
"No, Doc. The leprechaun hath returned!"
"Who the hell uses the word hath Ell!? I may have been smoking some "Halflings' Leaf" but I'm pretty sure you're the only dude left alive from the 16th century that knows what that means!" said Oppraman.
"No, I mean the leprechaun is back Ned! we gotta....... wait a second, are you telling me you have a Phd and you don't know how to use the word hath? what kind of education did you get? Did your diploma come from the bottom of the Cracker Jack that all the kids are soo into nowadays? I can't believe you don't know what hath means!"
"Of course I do! I'm not stupid, and at least I have the ability to get up and use the toilet. I don't sit in my mess all day like you!" said Bennet.
"No I don't" replied Ell
"Yes you do!" said Bennet
"No, you do!"
"No! You DO!"
"No I don't."
"Yes you do."
"Yes.. YOU DO!"
"Oh, okay.. I do!" Bennet replied sarcastically.
"Ha! See! I told you you do!" Ell quipped.
"I was being Sarcastic, you.. you.. Arrgh!" Exhausted, Bennet hung up the phone.
Last edited by sergiodeblanc; 02-23-2013 at 03:10 PM.
Doc Bill sat musing in his new basement studio. The only illumination was the soft glow from the neon and the computer screens in front of him. The urgent text from Sergio had unnerved him. Bill thought about his spat with Ell Chefman and realized it paled in comparison with Sergio's warning.
Chefman was still reeling from his nightmare. He knew that some day he actually would need diapers, but he was thankful that time had not yet come. His phone rang.
"Ruger? I thought you were pissed at me..."
"I was. You drowned my goldfish. That kind of thing just isn't an accident."
"That was years ago, and I apologized."
"It probably didn't help that you were eating him as you did so."
"But I was really hungry after arguing with Bennett," mumbled the aging studio owner. He had just taken a large bite from an angelfish sandwich.
"Well, never mind that now. Put your ongoing feud with Bennett on the back burner. We have more important things to worry about."
Doc Bill filled Chefman in on the contents of Sergio's panic text.
"Oh God! Not the Leprechauns!" wailed Chefman. "That's what Bennett just told me. I thought he was just yanking my chain. We have to get busy. Bennett can wait." Bits of angelfish, toast and lettuce spewed across the room as he spoke.
"Agreed," said Bill.
They were at once both right and both very wrong.
Paul hung up the phone. The pukes at Fender bought his story. He knew that Orianthi and Meyers would never agree to the 'deal' he made and he would still end up with Eric Johnson anyway. What Fender didn't know was about the impending desertion of another of their prized artists.
Well, 'impending' wasn't exactly right. Once Smith had gotten Gilmour to actually play the special prototype with the trio of tapped narrow 408s, it had been easy to finally bring the rock legend into the PRS fold.
The text he had gotten from Doc Bill Ruger proved that his timing could not have been better. With Davy Knowles able to slip behind the lines disguised as a leprechaun and with Gilmour's years of experience killing them, PRS was putting everything in place for the coming Pot-O-Goldtop wars. Two important aspects of war were already in place - inside information and proven killing power.
Paul returned to the wood shop and suddenly realized that the flap over 'Paul's Guitar' might be connected. With the shop still to himself, he put the finishing touches on the intricately shaped wormy mahogany in front of him.
He heard a mouse fart somewhere upstairs in the large factory. "I gotta put more traps in the wood library," he thought to himself.
Chefman, too, was a "doc" of course; a doctor of LAWS. Which didn't do him or anyone else any good right now, as the Leprechaun didn't follow any laws. This was an emergency. His first thought was to consider whether the legend of the Leprechaun being vulnerable only to the One Guitar was true.
He had a feeling it was going have to be something special. Maybe something unexpected. Maybe something...undiscovered...or hidden away by providence, only revealed at the magic moment...
"Hang on a sec," he thought. "I know of a guitar that is truly one of a kind, once cast off, only to be rediscovered in a heap of messy parts and brought back to life again...is there a chance it could be The One?"
He got on the phone and started dialing the number of Le Casanova.
Meanwhile, in Vegas, Red Romen - after pausing to extoll the virtues of smaller heeled shoes to an impressed "lady of the evening" who refused not only his advice but any and all offers of any financial compensation for an act she wouldn't perform with, as she put it, "Henry's ex-girlfriend's naughty bits" - dejectedly trudged onward to the secret meeting place. He slid down the alley, checking both ways to make sure he wasn't followed. He passed under a dumpster, reaching up to touch the bottom for luck in a superstitious gesture as ridiculous as it was impossible.
Carefully counting the bricks from the corner of the dumpster, he found the false front and slid the panel back, revealing the secure entry pad. He slowly punched in the code he had memorized, a process that would have been much quicker if not for his running commentary. "Five...thirteen...really, just a desperate attempt to attract attention...four...oh...eight...yeah, like four oh nine wouldn't have been a cleaner idea...three...oh...five...like that's not a complete ripoff..."
The entrance to the secret lair slid open. A voice, dripping with nearly lethal amounts of sarcasm, drifted out of the darkness. "So, Red Not Ramen Noodles, are you ready to proceed with our evil plan?"
Red Romen just rolled his eyes dismissively. "Are you finally going to follow my instructions? Not just veer off on your own twisted path?"
"As you wish, Red Not Ramen Noodles."
"Very good, let's proceed...Ratchet."
In Connecticut, a spine chilled.
"I watched approximately 45 seconds of 'Rock Of Ages'. It was like getting punched in the soul." - Abby Krizner
Bennett Oppraman was pissed. That old coot Chefman had bested him verbally. Again. He had installed the backup cowbell alarm to replace the crushed one, but the alarm log was corrupted so he had no idea what had literally rung the previous bell to death.
"Death," he thought to himself. "I'll show 'em death."
At his workbench Bennett carefully inserted the strand of hair into the finished voodoo doll. He had gotten the hair as a ruse he had pulled on Nutzall. Earlier that year, Shawn had visited the famous Abbey Road studios. Bennett had made an unusual request of the head of the PRS Special Forces Unit.
At the time, Shawn had thought Bennett's request for some hair from the control room of the studios weird but harmless and Shawn had overnighted a small box of various hairs he had found.
It was one of these hairs that Bennett carefully slid into a voodoo doll now. He closed the side with some superglue and then with an evil grin, picked up a 12 inch knitting needle.
In Abby Road studio 3 as David Gilmour was laying down an amazing solo for his latest track, the studio engineer clutched his chest painfully and died.