Jim Maijala's Phunk Phiction -- "Roadkill" Revenge


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Tue, 5 May 1998 12:37:39 -0700
Subject: re: roadkill revenge chapter 1

FORWARD -- I don't remember who posted about if the band would need roadkill if they became super big again, but, thank you anyway. The following story (multiple chapters) hopefully will make you laugh and cry and think (hopefully not sleep!). If you can't stand these things, delete now, or forever hold your peace!

Chapter One, Born to be Monk.

It all started a couple of years ago. There, in a back alley, huddled around a burning trash can, four middle-aged men thought about their days of glory ...

... "Like I was saying, Mark, if disco had never reared it's ugly head, we might still be on top of the rock and roll world. Hell, we might even be in the Hall of Fame!"

"Look, bean pole, I really don't want to rehash all that stuff. Hey Mel, do you still have one of those Slim Jims you stole from the drug store?" beggs Mark.

"Mark, you're such a mooch, here, take half of this one." answers Mel, with disgust, as he tears a Slim Jim in half.

"I'm really kind of hungry, do you guys think we should go roll some other bums and take their money?" offers Howard.

"Mark, did you hear someone say something? It sounded like 'roll some rum' or something like that ... OH, it was you, Howard! ... hehehee."

"You know, it's really a dark day when you can't even gain the respect of you fellow outcasts!" intones Howard.

The four continued to stand around the burning trash can, warming their hands and eyeing a group of 'street trash' who had seemingly wandered into their own personal alley. Suddenly, behind the group of newcomers, a mist started to gather. Soon it obscured the newcomers and the four former rockers began to get frightened. As they were about to skedadle (I love that word) a voice arose from the mist ...

"Don't be afraid oh members of the great band Grand Funk Railroad, for I have come from another plane of existance to take back to the promised land of Rock!"

Out of the mist strode a figure, dressed in black and red robes, his face obscured by the hood, around his neck he wore an amulet showing a circle with a pointing finger and upon his shoulder stood a magnificent bird.

"I am the Monk of Funk." announced the figure as he threw back his hood.

The four rockers watched in awe as the group that had formed behind the strange visitor had now fallen to their knees and seemed to be chanting ... "One just like the other, one just like the other ..." over and over again.

Howard was completely dumb-struck by the entire affair and also fell to his knees and started chanting also. Mel kicked Howard. "Get up, you idiot, your making a fool of yourself!"

"Wait, oh great player of bass, Howard has only answered his heart!" explained the Monk.

"What is your name, Monk?", askes Mark.

"I have no name other than the Monk of Funk." answers the Monk.

"What kind of bird is that?" asks Don, pointing to the Monk's shoulder.

"How kind of you to ask! It is a parrot, his name is William." smiles the Monk.

"Can we call him, Bill? And, does he talk?" questions Mel.

"Yes, you can call him Bill, however, as for talking, he only says one word." sighs the Monk.

"What word is that?" presses Mark.

"Grok." shrugs the Monk.

"It figures," Don continues, "Howard, you can get up now, this guy is a friend."

"Oh great Monk, show us the way back to the greatness they once had!" pleads Howard.

"In order to do that, you must not question anything that I tell you to do. I will never tell you to do anything that could put you in harm's way. All that I ask has a purpose, and it will lead to glories you have never known." lectures the Monk.

"I don't know, what do you think Don, Mel?" says Mark cautiously.

"What have we got to lose? We're just bums in an alley now, how much worse can it get?" reasons Don.

"I'm with you all the way!" says Mel confidently.

"We're not worthy, we're not worthy." chants Howard as he bows to the ground.

"Get up, MORON!, we're leaving this hole!" shouts Mark.

With that they all gather up their belongings ... two beef jerkys, an old copy of Circus Magazine, and a small satchel of bird seed.

Then, at a gesture from the Monk, the parrot, Bill, flys into the air crying "Grok, Grok" and leads the small group out of the alley.

... to be continued ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Wed, 6 May 1998 10:54:13 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 2

Chapter 2, A LONG WALK OFF A SHORT PIER

Bill, the parrot, flew out of the alley and the entire group of people followed him. That included the Monk, the band and the mysterious group of people who had gathered behind the Monk originally. Since the band was basically unemployed and had no money they had to walk for a long time. About two hours later they arrived at a nondescript brown building. It had become cloudy and it looked like it was about to start raining. Lightning flashed in the sky as distant thunder began to roll through the city. Above the door to the building was a sign that read "SPEAKEASY AND ENTER."

Bill circled the area twice and then landed on the Monk's shoulder once more. The Monk turned to the group and said, "Here is where I have led you, and here is where you will rediscover your greatness. But, first you must determine the method of entry."

"Method of entry, what are you talking about?" asked Don.

"See for yourself, go ahead, open the door." motioned the Monk.

Don strode up to the door and tried the knob. It wouldn't budge. There didn't appear to be any kind of lock on the door, yet it wouldn't open. Mark raced up to the door and tried to kick it in. He was rewarded by a sprained ankle as he hopped around the entrance like an idiot. Howard began scraping at the edge of the door trying to gnaw his way inside.

Mel looked at the others and just laughed, "You guys look like a bunch of redneck hillbillies, it is obvious how to gain entrance."

"Okay, smart guy, suppose you show us hillbillies how to get in." challenged Don.

With that Mel quietly walked up to the door and put his face right up against it. He smiled and then he whispered, barely audible to the others the word, "easy." The door glowed a bright orange for just an instant and then opened with a rusty creeeeeeek.

The party walked inside and began to look around. It was a rather large hall or gymnasium or someother kind of building. One thing they noticed right away was a raised area to one end of the hall. It looked like a stage. The other thing they noticed was that the entire building was empty. There was nothing in it. No furniture, no lights, no dust, no nothing (no phone, no lights, no motorcar, not a single luxury).

"What do you expect us to do in here?" interjected Howard.

"First you must tell me what you see." answered the Monk.

"We don't see anything, you took us for a long walk with no reason." complained Mark.

"Yeah!" shouted Don wisely.

"Well then, BEHOLD!" intoned the Monk. He then produced from under his robes a small pouch of dust. Bill the parrot picked the pouch from his hand and flew around the room and began sprinkling the dust. As he flew around the room became progressively darker until no light could be seen.

The group of Monk groupies once again fell to their knees and began chanting over and over, "bringing me down, bringing me down."

In the darkess no one saw Mel doing an eye roll on that one.

to be continued ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Thu, 7 May 1998 13:46:54 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 3

Chaper 3, Practice makes perfect?

... Mel was really getting sick of the Monk groupies by this time. Their constant chanting was really getting on his nerves. He decided to finally take action. He strode over to the group of groupies (is that a gagle?) and said, "Hey, do you people want to hold it down?"

"Spartacus!, Spartacus!", the throng sang. Mel started to turn bright red with embarassment. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the video movie he had saved for years ... you guessed it, "Spartacus". He tossed it to the groupies. LIke a bunch of starving slaves from a Lawerence of Arabia movie fighting over a piece of bread, the groupies battled for the treasured film! First one and then another had possesion of it. Finally the Monk himself had to take control. He stood among the groupies and raised his hands high into the air. Bill landed upon his outstretched palm and said ... "Grok!" The groupies imediately fell silent.

By this time the hall began to brighten up as lights, that before were unseen, began to glow. As the room filled with light the boys saw to their amazement that a complete band setup was sitting on the stage. It had been empty only a moment before! Don walked cautiously up to the drum kit and looked it over. Three cymbal set, double floor toms, all top quality Peavey. Mark noticed that there were 4 guitars sitting in stands in front of a quad stack West amp power pack, his old Messenger, the alluminum Vellano, a White Peavey and a red Parker Fly. Howard noticed a three keyboard stack by the side with a Fender Stratocaster sitting close by, he was in hog heaven. Mel had his choice of his old Fender Jazz bass, or a Zon.

The Monk motioned them to his side. "The time is near that you have wished for. But, first you must prepare yourselves." With that, the boys lept upon the stage and picked up their instruments and turned on their equipment.

At first, they sounded horrible, I guess it's not like riding a bicycle. Once you know how, you DO forget! The boys played on into the night, never resting, always practicing, trying to recapture the magic they once had. Except for Mel. He took a 10 minute break to try to find his Spartacus movie.

To be continured ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Mon, 11 May 1998 08:51:36 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 4

Chapter 4: Moe, Larry, the Cheese!

... as the band continued to practice, the Monk Groupies, who had become known as "The Stooges," were beginning to get restless. They had waited along time for the bands return and they were getting impatient. During a break in the practice Don began looking over the "Stooges". He had begun nicknaming them in his own, charming, way. One groupie, a young brown haired woman, would just sit a stare at Mark like he was some kind of love god. He had decided to name her, "Eyeball," because she was always giving Mark the eye.

Over in the corner sat a middle aged man with a lap-top computer. His constant pecking at the keys was really getting on Don's nerves. What was really pissed Don off was that he would inexplicably laugh out loud every once in a while as if he was really writing something funny. Don wanted to duct tape his mouth, so he decided to call him D.T.

But the one person that really was irritating Don the most was not even a person, it was Bill the Parrot. That dang bird kept flying around his drums bombing him with bird droppings! If only he could get his hands on that bird!

"Come here, Bill, here birdy, birdy, birdy," sang Don.

"Grok," cried Bill. And then he said, "Moe, Larry, the Cheese!" Almost immediately the entire throng of Funk Groupies took up the chant "... Moe, Larry, the Cheese! ... Moe, Larry, the Cheese! ..."

Stand by for chapter 5 ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Wed, 13 May 1998 12:04:54 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 5

Chapter 5, Obi-wan never told me ...

It had been many days of practice by this time. The band was really starting to sound good, almost like the old days. It was at this time that the Monk called the boys together ...

"The time is almost here. Almost time for you to make your triumphant return to the world of glitz and glamour . To complete this transformation, you will need a companion on the road. Someone you can trust, someone who will take care of you. No, it is not the thriving throng of the funk faithful that you see before you and have named the "Stooges." No, you need one person, one man who can do it all," lectured the Monk, with Bill perched on his shoulder.

"Who is this 'wonder boy' you're talking about?" asked Mel.

"Yeah!" said Mark, wisely.

"Ditto!" chimed in Don, creatively.

"Anybody seen my tube of Pringles?" inquired Howard intently.

At this moment there was a knock on the door. Everyone jumped, except the Monk, because no one had come to the door since they had started practicing. The Stooges gathered around the door in a protective stance, no one was going to hurt their heros.

"Open the door!" declared the Monk.

The door creaked open and there stood a man. No ordinary man, mind you, but a mighty man, the man who would take care of Grand Funk Railroad, the man of destiny. He stode into the crowd. High fives were exchanged with the stooges, shouts of glee eminated from the crowd. Finally he walked up to the band itself and introduced himself ...

"Hi, my name is Crotch, I'm your new manager!"

There was a stunned silence in the crowd. With one exception ... the man with the laptop who was always writing stuff and laughing was absolutely beside himself!

Don had had enough. He really wanted to pound that guy! He enlisted the aid of Mel and walked over to the guy ...

"What's your name, laughing boy?", asked Don.

"Yeah, and do you have my copy of Spartacus?" Added Mel.

"Have you guys seen this?" inquired the laughing stooge as he showed the pair the monitor on his computer.

Mel and Don immediately broke out in laughter at the sight of Terry Knight hanging from an oak tree with his eye bugging out!

"Hey, you're all right!" said Don.

"Yeah. Say, do want to join the band?" asked Mel.

At this moment, there was more knocking at the door. But this knocking was frantic and it was accompanied by screaming and yelling. The Monk walked over to a window and opened it. Bill flew out the window for a moment and then flew back in and landed on the Monk's shoulder. Then the Monk spoke ...

"It is a man wearing a Funkengrueven shirt. He also has a lanyard around his neck with a pass on it. He is screaming for mercy. He must see the Funk, he says."

"Stone the interloper!" cried the Stooges.

"Wait!" shouted the Monk, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone!"

Almost instantly, a young, blonde haired woman emerged from the crowd. She walked to the window and threw a small rock at the interloper. Scoring a bullseye, the man let out a yelp and then ran away cursing that they would all pay in the end.

At this Mark walked over to the Monk and said, "Monk, you never said there would be problems."

Stand by for chapter 6 ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Tue, 19 May 1998 23:36:17 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge long awaited chapter 6

chapter 6 I'm your father, crotch?

The bands new manager, Crotch, was working out great. He immediately signed them to a show in Las Vegas. The venue was the Hard Rock. As some of you know, it's not a large venue but it is very loud! It was a few days before the show and the guys were making plans to leave for Vegas.

"Hey Crotch, who's going to move all this stuff?" asks Mark, pointing to all the equipment.

"Don't sweat it Mark, the roadkillers will move it." answered Crotch, waving his arm toward the Funk groupies known as the Stooges.

A hush fell over the crowd. This did not sit well with the disciples of Phunk. The Stooges huddled together with the Monk in the middle. Shortly after, Bill the parrot let out a mighty "Grok" and flew around the stooges three times then landed back on the Monk's shoulder. The Monk then strode from the crowd and faced Crotch.

"You do not yet understand your importance, young Crotch." stated the Monk, "Search your feelings, Crotch. Mark, Don and Mel never told you what really happened to your father. By the way, have you seen Howard anywhere?"

"What are you talking about Monk?" complained Crotch, "I can't move this stuff myself, I need roadies!"

"Then behold!" cried the Monk. Bill instantly flew from the Monks shoulder and began circling around the equipment. Slowly, all the amps, guitars and drums began to get fuzzy and then dissappeared all together. Crotch blinked his eyes in disbelief. The groupies began to chant, "Had to work hard, just to make a dime." over and over again.

"Man these guys are really starting to get on my nerves!" said Crotch. "Hey Monk, you haven't told me what you meant about my father. What was that all about, anyway?"

The Monk didn't respond at first. Bill was still flying around the room. The Monk made no effort to acknowledge Crotch's question until Bill again landed on his shoulder. He then turned to Crotch and said, "You see that rather menacing looking groupie over there?" asked the Monk pointing to a stooge that the boys had dubbed *P.O.D.* "He's your father. It is your DESTINY to rule the funk kindgom together with him as father and son. You can bring this destructive conflict to an end and bring order to Rock and Roll!"

Crotch stood there stunned by this revelation. Finally he turned to the Monk and said ... "NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

Chapter 7 yet to come ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Mon, 25 May 1998 22:54:39 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge (I almost forgot) chapter 7

(for those of you that are interested, I apologize for not getting back to the story. I had a rather hectic week and I had a creative blank. For those of you who don't like the story, I sorry, but here is another chapter!)

Chapter 7 ... History lesson ...

Crotch was very interested in his heritage. He asked many questions of the Monk. Finally the Monk told him the entire sordid story ...

Back in 1969 there was a man named Terry Day. And he was the manager of a great Rock and Roll band. During this time he fathered a son. But, the mother of the son saw that Terry was changing so she hid the baby from his father. There was a dark power at work on Terry Day and slowly he was changed to the Prince of Darkness. After he became the P.O.D. the band split from Terry and had been battling ever since. Their recent travails (ie: living in a alley around trash cans) was a result of their ongoing battle with Terry.

Crotch asked the Monk who he really was. At this, Bill the parrot, "Groked" and then flew into the air. As he flew the Monk fell silent and didn't speak again until Bill landed back on his shoulder. The Monk only said that he was sent from "The other side" to fight with the band against the P.O.D. He would say no more about it.

It was almost time for the band to start their comeback at the Hard Rock. Crotch and the Monk (along with Bill) drove all the way in a truck. Crotch thought this funny but the Monk insisted on it.

Believe it or not ... chapter 8 to follow.


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Sat, 30 May 1998 20:17:25 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 8

Chapter 8 ... the battle is joined ...

All was in readiness for the first show at the Hard Rock. The Funk Groupies gathered together in a tavern near the venue for a party to celebrate the first show ...

"Remember, we must show the proper respect for the band," intoned the Monk with a knowing glance at the *Stooges*.

"What if the P.O.D. shows up?" asked a bearded member of the throng.

"Do not speak his name so freely!" cautioned the Monk, "I have a plan to deal with him if he turns up."

Grand Funk was almost ready to hit the stage. Mark was pacing and clapping his hands together. Don was unsettled and his palms were sweaty. Howard, who had never played live with them was staring glassy eyed at a picture hanging on the wall. Mel, always stoic, was calmly watching a video of the movie "Spartacus".

Crotch came from another room and said to the boys, "Okay guys, about five minutes, time to head for the stage."

"It's about time", said Don as he pushed past Mark and headed down the hall.

The guys reached the stage entrance and waited. A couple of the stooges who were acting as roadies brought them their instruments. Mark and Mel strapped on their guitars. Don twirled a pair of drumsticks in his hands. Howard adjusted his berret.

Just then the stage lights went out and the familiar strains of 2001 began playing. This was their cue. They hustled out onto the stage under cover of the darkness and took their positions ... unknown to them, a shadow, darker than the dark stage also took up position behind the Amp stack just behind Mark ... A voice from off stage cried over the P.A. system ... "HERE'S THE GROUP YOU'VE BEEN WAITING TO SEE ... GRAND ... FUNK ... RAILROAD!"


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Fri, 5 Jun 1998 23:32:04 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 9

Chapter 9 ... armageddon ...

As the band pounded through the first couple of songs the crowd was going crazy. It was really a packed house and many of the Funk Groupies were in the first few rows. Mark smiled broadly as he sang the opening verses of Paranoid. Mel was pounding on his Bass like the old days and Don was blissfully hammering the skins like never before. Howard, on the other hand, was wide eyed. He had never experienced anything like this and was hard pressed to keep up with the other guys. He was really sweating it out!

Crotch and the Monk were watching the action from off stage.

"The boys have really got it tonight, eh Monk?" said Crotch, clapping his hands in time to the music.

"Yes, they are playing very well. But, I sense another presence here. A presense I haven't felt in a long, long time." cautioned the Monk. Bill flapped his wings and figgited on the Monks shoulder.

"Huh, what are you talking about? This is going great."s argued Crotch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bill detected movement behind Mark's 4-cabinet amp stack. "GROK! GROK!" he warned.

Just then the shadow no one had noticed sprang from behind the equipment and knocked down Mark. Mark sprang to his feet and immediately attacked the unknown assilant. Mark managed to land a few blows as the identity of the stranger remained hidden behind a hood. Don, rushing from his drum kit, jumped onto the back of the stranger and tore the hood from him. Mark screameds as he saw that the attacker was none other than Terry Day!

This was too much for Mel. He hated Day and he came after him swinging his Bass like a giant battle axe! With a rebel yell (he cried more, more, more) he swung and connected with Day's head. The Bass splintered into microfragments as Day appeared uninjured. With that Day reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object and threw it to the floor. There was a loud explosion and flash and then smoke. When the smoke cleared Day was gone ... along with Mark!

Crotch had watched the entire affair from offstage, unable to react. "Monk, what has happened? Monk?" He looked in the direction where the Monk had been standing and found himself starring at air. The Monk was gone.

Howard rushed up to Mel and Don. "Where's Mark?, I saw a flash and then I ... then I ... " Howard collapsed to the floor!

Ten minutes later ...

"Howard, Howard? It's okay, he's waking up," Don said, looking up at the others as Howard began to come around.

"Howard, what happened, buddy?" questioned Mel.

Howard struggled to sit up. He felt he was changed somehow. Suddenly, a voice inside spoke to him. Now' he understood. "Boys, the spirit of the Monk has entered my body. I now have two beings inside me. The body of the Monk has gone after Day and Mark. He left his spirit inside me, in case he doesn't make it back."

"Make it back? Where did he go?" asked Crotch.

Howard looked at Crotch like he was looking right through him, "Why Crotch, don't you know?"

Chapter 10 coming tommorrow night!!!


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Sun, 7 Jun 1998 22:56:59 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 10

This is getting longer all the time! ...

Chapter 10 ... in the void ...

Mark's mind was all fuzzy. He couldn't remember what had happened. Man, did his head hurt. He looked around him, but everything was blurry ... no, it was actually foggy, or smokey. He couldn't tell. He heard a noise behind him and he turned quickly. "Who is it?"

"Don't you remember me, Mark?" asked a dark figure.

Mark DID, in fact, recognize that voice. But it was impossible! Terry Day was dead! Or was he? Mark's confusion was all over his face and this was recognized by Day.

"What's the matter Mark, never talked to a dead man before?" Day broke out in a laugh that was absolutley hiddeous.

"Well, it's obvious that you're not dead, since your standing here talking to me." answered Mark.

"Don't be so sure, Mark. I may actually be dead and you're dead too. Did you ever think of that?" baited Terry.

"Well, if you're not dead now, you soon will be!" screamed Mark as he dived headlong onto the hooded man who called himself Terry Day. But, as soon as he came into contact with him, he desolved into nothingness and Mark was left holding an empty black robe. A hollow laugh filled the air. Mark swore to himself in anger.

"Nice try, Shorty, better luck next time! But, I'm not through with you yet. I have never forgiven you and your, so called, friends for dumping me back in 1972. So, it's time for a little payback. Remember that guitar you donated to the Rock Hall of Fame? Well, look at this!" Terry shouted as the mist parted and Mark saw a vision of his Messenger guitar being burned by his own wife!

"NNNOOOOOOOOOO, leave her out of this!" cried Mark.

"Not a chance of that, Long hair, here's a little more!" with that the image changed to a wedding chapel with Marks wife marrying Ted Nugent!

"You FIEND!" snarled Mark. "You'll never get away with this, Day. If it is the last thing I do, I'll kill you!"

Day laughed out loud ... "Fool, I'm already dead!"

More to come later this week ... unless you want me to stop.


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Wed, 10 Jun 1998 00:23:47 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 11

The real chapter 11 ... still at the HardRock ...

Even though Mark had disappeared the others weren't just sitting around. A disscusion was ongoing concerning Marks whereabouts and his possible return ...

"I don't care what you say, I miss Mark and I wish he was here" Howard said, forthrightly.

"Mark Who?" asked Don.

"Did you say something, Howard?" chimed in Mel.

"Now cut it out, guys," interupted Crotch, "This is serious stuff."

"Serious? Serious? I'll tell you whats serious. World hunger, that's serious. World trade issues, that's serious. A cure for cancer, that's serious. What is NOT serious, is a short guy who can play a guitar and sing a little. Have you seen my can of Pringles anywhere? If one of you guys ate them ... well, THAT would be serious!" Lectured Don.

Crotch was disgusted by the entire conversation. He was also disturbed by the absense of the Monk. The Monk had not been seen since Mark's disappearance. He was beginning to get worried ...

"What's for dinner?" asked Mel.

"Dinner? How can you think of eating at a time like this?" Howard asked.

"I'm sorry, Howard, did you say something?" replied Mel.

MEANWHILE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF REALITY ...

"Where are you, Day, I want to get my hands on you." said Mark as he searched the gloom for Terry Day.

"If you ever find me, I would have to turn in my membership card in the Zombie Club" replied Terry with a laugh.

Just then, Mark felt a hand on his shoulder. He wheeled around, with a start, and found himself looking into the eyes of the Monk, with Bill perched on his shoulder. The Monk had his finger up to his lips mouthing "SSSHHHHHHHH." Mark nodded in understanding.

A few seconds later, Bill took flight quietly from the Monk's shoulder. Mark could still hear Day laughing somewhere in the foggy gloom. The laugh was cut short by Bill as he found Day and cried ... "Grok." Mark made a beeline for the sound ...

End of Chapter 11 ... more later ... with Greta the mule faced girl ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 10:09:13 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 12

After a case of blockage ... Chaper 12 ... fighting is bad ...

(if you will remember, Bill the bird had found Terry Day in the misty netherworld and Mark was rushing to beat the crap out of him!)

Mark raced toward the "groking" Bill as fast as he could. It was tough going as the mist was heavy and he could only see a few feet in front of him. Suddenly, out of the fog, came an onrushing Terry Day with Bill chasing him!

The two combatants crashed together and fell to the floor in a heap. Mark scrambled to his feet and lept upon the hated Day. Mark's fists pummeled Terry as Terry tried to scratch and claw his way to his feet. Finally, Day regained his footing and began to pummel Mark as well. Both men fought with a fury that few had ever witnessed. It was a fight between good and evil, at least that is what Mark thought.

The Monk watched the entire bout unfold before his eyes. He had never imagined that Mark would be able to hold his own against Day. After all, Day had powers, unnatural powers, that Mark did not possess. It was obvious that Mark was operating out of sheer hate for Day. Slowly the fight began to turn in Days favor, but not without alot of bruises, cuts and broken bones inflicted by Mark. Day got ahold of Mark and lifted him high into the air and threw him to the ground. There was a sickening crunch as Mark broke his left arm in the fall. Day broke into laugher ...

"Ha! Farner, I have beaten you again! You can never defeat me. Now you must do my bidding!"

"I will never submit to your evil ways, Day!, you can kiss my ass," challenged Mark, holding his left arm.

"Okay, have it your way." mused Terry as he approached Mark.

Just then Bill flew into the air once more and circled above Day. Terry was perplexed by this and stopped in his tracks. The Monk didn't move as Bill flew about. Then Bill landed on the Monks shoulder. The Monk strode forward and held up his hands ...

"Silence, unholy one!" he cried and then fire lept from his hands and surrounded Terry Day. "Oh evil Prince of Darkness, this will not be your victory, for I have other tasks for this mortal!"

With that, there was a blinding light and all dissappeared inside of that light. Mark lost consciousness. When he awoke he found himself lying on a cot in the dressing room of the Hard Rock. The other members of the band were sitting around looking at him. He arm was as good as new, not broken.

"Hey punk, you awake now?" asked Don, "And did you eat all my pringles, again?"

"What happened to you?" inquired Howard.

"Did you hear someone say something?" asked Mel.

Mark was confused. (and so am I)

Chapter 13 will come, I just don't know when.


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Thu, 25 Jun 1998 10:44:27 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 13

Okay, Tom Fagan, here is chapter 13 ... back to the drawing board.

It took a few days for Mark to fully recover from his experience in the Netherworld. The Monk and not been seen since that time and the boys were beginning to get worried. The "Stooges" had always remained faithfull and had been constantly chanting throughout the whole ordeal.

Crotch had tried to keep the band busy with rehearshing and scheduling new shows. Even though the show at the Hard Rock had been interrupted by the Prince of Darkness, this had only proven to give the band a big publicity lift! The phone was ringing off the hook.

A week later as the guys were practicing in their rented music hall there was a soft knock on the door. Crotch opened the door and a tattered and beaten Monk staggered through the door.

"My God, Monk, what happened to you?" asked Don.

The Monk didn't answer right away. Bill flew in through a window and landed on Monk's shoulder. Then the Monk said, "I have been places that you could not even imagine in your worst nightmares."

"Oh, you mean Detroit?" asked Mel

"What about Hoboken?" added Howard

"Did you just hear someone say something?" asked Mark as he put down his Parker Fly and joined the conversation.

"Silence! Or I will not tell you my tale." cautioned the Monk.

All of the guys now fell silent and even the stooges gathered around quietly as the Monk began his story.

The Monk cleared his throat and began, "The battle with the P.O.D. is only now just beginning. Mark, he hates you with all of his being and he wants to destroy you. Don, he wants to make you his slave to do his evil bidding. Mel, he hates your taste in Movies and thinks you're an idiot, for that alone he wants to have you silenced."

"What about me?" interrupted Howard.

"He didn't say anything about you, Howard. He has forgotten about you. You should be thankful he has. Day is a powerful foe and I barely escaped him. If it wasn't for Bill I would not have survived. It was Bill that prevented Day from impaling me on a spike, hidden below a trap door in the floor of the netherworld."

At this time the stooges gathered together and began a new chant ... "I'm gonna walk out laughin'" ...

Chapter 14 will be the next to last chapter ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 15:37:48 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 14

Roadkill Revenge Chapter 14 ... an unexpected turn ...

The boys were very concerned about Day. The Monk was always hurrying about checking the doors and windows, listening at the walls, thumping the floor boards. It was if he expected something to happen, but he didn't know what.

The band had returned to the rehearsal hall and were practicing their revised set which included "Anybody's Answer." Howard had been bothered the last couple of days by a headache. Today he was feeling a little sick to his stomach. In the middle of the quitar solo to "AA," Howard suddenly stumbled from behind his keyboard and tossed his tacos, blew chunks, drove the big white bus, prayed to the porcelain god, heaved, retched, barfed, had a case of vomitosis! (enough already) ...

Mark was quick to respond, "GEEEZ Howard, shut you're cake hole!"

"Man, your stinking up the place!" added Don.

"Howard, are you feeling alright?" asked Mel.

Mark shot a look at Mel, "Feeling alright? You gotta be kiddin' me!"

The Monk was very concerned and so was Crotch. "Howard, speak to me!" commanded the Monk.

Howard didn't say anything at first. He was just staring blankly and puking (hey, another name for barf). Suddenly he changed. He stode straight up and shouted ... "I'LL GET YOU FARNER!" and immediately started chasing Mark around the studio. The laughter died in everyone's throat as Howard started to pull his own hair out and begin convulsing on the floor.

"Stay away from him!" ordered the Monk, "It is the P.O.D., he is trying to take control of Howard's body."

The Funk groupies immediately placed themselves between the band and Howard. The P.O.D. would have to get past them to get to the band. Howard was laughing and crying and screaming all at the same time. Many different voices came out of him (including Shirley Temple) as he struggled to regain control of himself.

This was definately a turn for the worse ...

The 15th and final chapter yet to come ... tune in later ... same funk time, same funk channel ...


From: jmaijala@juno.com
Date: Mon, 6 Jul 1998 00:14:24 -0700
Subject: Re: roadkill revenge chapter 15

This is the last chapter ... I wrote it before but somehow it got deleted in the sending ... so without further ado ... Chapter 15, Full Circle ...

Howard continued to writh on the floor (he quivered and quaked and cluched at himself!) and speak in many tongues. He spewed forth a torrent of hate toward everyone connected with the band. At the same time, it was plain that Howard was trying to regain control of his own body ...

"Everyone stay back, Day is trying to gain control of Howards body!" cautioned Monk.

"Just so long as he keeps control of his bowels, ppppeeewwww!" contributed Don.

"This ain't funny, man. Look at his face ... eeeewwwwwuuuuuuu!" said Mel disgustingly.

The Monk walked over to Howard and knelt down next to him and grabbed him by the shoulder, "Howard, Howard, try to keep control ... Howard!"

Howards face cleared for just a moment and looked longinly into the Monk's face. But, just as quickly it was replaced by a sneering leer that reminded the Monk of Terry Day, "I've got your Howard, RIGHT HERE." With that Day threw the Monk aside, Bill flying from Monks shoulder, and regained his feet. As soon as he was standing he attempted to rush the band, but the "Stooges" barred the way.

One groupie in particular stood out and blocked Day's way. He was a rather large man with a red beard and a baseball bat. He warned Day off by saying "If you take one step closer, Day, I'll punk you like a jail house bitch while being hand fed tenderized beef jerky by a clean shaven midget wearing a pink tutu!"

"JERKY? you heathen!" shouted Day, "You'll pay for that" he attempted to tackle the big man.

But "Big Red," as he was known, was ready for him and he clubed him with the baseball bat. Day howled in pain as the Louisville slugger connected with his arm and broke it. The pain seemed to change Day. The crowd could see that Howard was struggling to regain control. A mist began to rise around Howard, it was tough to see through it.

Finally there was a loud shriek! The fog cleared and there lay Howard on the ground and standing over him was The P.O.D. ... "Punk me like a jail house bitch, eh?" said Day as he mearly thrust out his hand and Big Red flew backwards into a wall, knocking him out cold.

The Monk took this opportunity to confront Day. He had to distract him so others could get Howard away from the master of the Netherworld. "Day, these mear mortals may not be able to defeat you, but I am of a different sort."

Day WAS distracted by this and turned to face The Monk. "Monk, I'm finally going to put you out of your misery, and I'm going to eat that stupid parrot for lunch." Day strode toward the Monk.

At this Bill flew from the Monks shoulder. He began to circle around Day faster and faster. Soon a wind began to build up, while at the same time the hooded figure of the Monk began to diminish. It wasn't long until Day was surrounded by a small tornado like wind.

The tornado grew in intensity and Day couldn't get out of it. The twister rose into the air and took Day with it. Day screamed in anger as he was taken right off his feet and out the window by the cyclone.

The entire group of people from the band to the stooges to Crotch himself stood as one and cheered. The cheering stopped as they saw the robes lying on the floor. "What happened to the Monk?", they cried.

Bill, the parrott, landed on the end of Mark's Parker Fly and said, "He is with you still, in me, my friends."

The throng gasped in amazement at this ... "The Monk will always be with you as long as I am around, for you see the Monk is simply an extension of myself. He doesn't exist without me. I can always get more robes, so you folks should keep those (pointing to the robes on the floor with his wing) as a rememberence of me."

A brown haired young lady picked up the robes and carefully folded them and said, "Bill, I will keep these robes cleaned for you, if you ever need them again."

"Thank you! Now I will fly away. But, I will not be gone for long. Even though the P.O.D. was defeated today, he still lives on and will someday return to darken your door. Keep vigilant!!" With that Bill took off and flew out the window whistling a familiar tune. The groupies recognized it and took up the chant ...

"I'm getting closer to my home ... "

THE END!

I hope you liked the story. If you would like to hear more let me know. I don't want to bore anyone.

Jim's a good mans brother
Keeping the dream alive into the next millennium ...


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