It was no use trying to continue. Every time I started to strum my guitar, my astragalocalcaneum would jolt, and I would fall down. Chuck howled as the crystal structure of his minerals constricted. Groves caterwauled as only a catfish can. We all looked bemoaningly at the balloons filled with watermelon seeds that we had prepared for our grand finale- knowing that this grand finale would never come. I cried like a ladylux ergonomically designed soft touch dual spray faucet with fingertip controls.
The audience stared at us as we contorted under the burden of the trains that were running over our photographs, which had been tied to the tracks by Adamantine, Thrum-Cap, and Coil-the three brutish rock club owners who would/will stop at nothing to undermine the career of Evil Wiener.
Mr. Mouse, the owner of the cave in which we played, turned to the Indian Flying Fox who had delivered the news of Thrum-Cap, Coil, and Adamantine’s latest dastardly deed.
“Is there nothing we can do to help bring an end to this tragedy?” asked Mr. Mouse.
“Probably not in time for them to finish their gig” said the Indian Flying Fox.
“Dogone it.” said a Peahen who was sitting at the bar, “I really wanted to get my Rock on”.
“Oh well. I guess we’d better head back to Vermont” said the captain of the University of Vermont Equestrian Team.
Just then, one of the equestrian team’s horses piped up; “Wait a second. I think I know how we can help.”
We all looked at the horse, and then to the Captain of the Equestrian team, who said; “Burgoo King Jr. here is one of our best horses, if he says he can help, then we should hear him out.”
Burgoo King Jr. didn’t wait for any response, but instead turned to another horse and said; “Dust Commander III, is your cousin still up in Whitehorse?”
“Yup” said Dust Commander III.
“And Kauai Queen, do you have your laptop on you?” said Burgoo King Jr.
“Yup” said Kauai Queen, pulling a G-4 power book out of her saddlebag.
“Mr. Mouse. What kind of internet connection do you have?” asked Burgoo King Jr.
“DSL Light” responded Mr. Mouse.
The horses all whinnied in disapproval.
“Hey, Man. I live in a cave!!! Whattaya expect?” said Mr. Mouse.
“Don’t fret lil’ pal” said Burgoo King Jr. “We’ll make due. Do you have faxing capabilities?”
Mr. Mouse shook his head from side to side in a sheepish manner.
“No worries, Lucky Dancer, are you packin’?” Another horse, whose mane had been trimmed in a manner that resembled a mohawk, winked as he whipped out a very sophisticated looking fax machine.
We all looked at each other, wondering what the horses had up their saddle bags.