drunk in the heart of texas, pt. IV

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CHAPTER IV

Needless to say, the Wal-Mart show was a huge success, leaving thousands of concertgoers highly satisfied... both with our performance and the store's astoundingly low prices! From our opening number, Motorhead's "Bomber," to our encore finale, KISS's "Detroit Rock City" (changed to "Austin Mariachi City" for local flavor), our mariachi covers of classic metal songs had the audience caught up in a bona fide orgiastic frenzy!

MoM Saw A Million, If Not Hundreds Of Faces At The Austin Wal-Mart, And Mari-Rocked 'Em All

Afterwards, Texas Kelly went to collect our fee from the store manager, and my bandmates and I moseyed back to the official MoM tour bus to start a well deserved post-gig celebration. But as we neared our communal ride, a strange man with a ghost puppet on his hand leapt out at us!

"Boooooooooo," he said in an eerie voice, speaking from behind his puppet. "My name is Gho-o-o-o-stie! Wo-o-o-o-n't you sto-o-o-o-o-p and talk to my friend, The Muffin Man?"

"Er, maybe," I said, sensing danger. "Where... uh, where is this Muffin Man?"

"Oh, hello," the man said again, this time in a thick -- and obviously fake -- Cockney accent. "That would be me -- The Muffin Man, at your service." He extended his non-puppeted hand, clearly expecting me to reciprocate. Which, given the way he introduced himself, is not something the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 was keen on doing. I mean, just look at this geek:

From Right: The Muffin Man And His Sidekick, Ghostie

"Let's go, Hombre muy Extraño!" Paulo urged me, tugging at my shoulder. "This guy -- he plum loco!"

"Yeah," I said, "I think you may be right, Paulo..."

"Oh, your little friend is right!" squeaked the Muffin Man, dropping the accent. "I am crazy -- crazy about your sound, baby! I have to commit it to vinyl! I wanna be your producer, baby, your producer!"

"Commit it to... Listen, no offense, but you may want to consider commiting yourself! I mean, Jesus! What's with the weird ghost puppet?"

"It's..."

"And the bowler hat?"

"I..."

"And all those freaking pens?!"

"Um..."

"'It's...I...um!' And you want to produce our record?! You are a textbook case, man -- a textbook case!"

At that point, I recalled a lesson taught to me by my former sensei, the late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski.

"Listen, Wart," he had said, reclining on his cot in a hot Vietnamese hotel room, shortly after vomiting into a nearby bucket. "Never bust a crazy guy's balls. They go nuttier than a bull goose when you do that."

"Okay, Sensei," I had said.

"Good boy," he had said back. "Now, go fetch me an ice cold beer. And a few of them local whores. Chop chop."

The Late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)

Man alive, he sure would be mad if he knew I'd forgotten that one -- not to mention its countless companions. Still, probably not as mad as the Muffin Man was now.

"You dirt-eating, flower-sniffing, city-loving son of a son of a son of a bitch's bitch!!!" he shrieked, pulling violently at his own hair. "I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you! Every last one of you bastards! Every last one of you!! Ah-haha! Hahaha! Haha-hahahaha!! Hahahahahahaha!!! Hahahahahahaha!!!"

Then, he calmed down and we all had dinner together. Just kidding -- he went nuts, pulled a giant meat cleaver out of the back of his pants, and attacked!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'DRUNK IN THE HEART OF TEXAS' PT. V---