Ramble On BassPlyr Randy

[BassPlyr Randy]

It was one of those hot August nights "actually it was in the middle of September so that makes my opening statement a little misleading, however I believe it was the best and most discriptive way to describe this particular night, so..." in our nameless and and nondescript little town. The town was called Frenchglen, not because it bore any resemblence to anywhere in France, but rather because the first man to settle the area was a Frenchmen named Glen. In its day it was a booming logging community full of life, shops of every kind, several saloons and a brothel that featured the most beautiful and sought after whore for 1000 miles, Danish Deb, who wasn't really Danish, she was French. She was actually the youngest daughter of French Glen, who didn't seem to mind his daughter being a famous whore for although he founded the area and they named the town after him, French Glen was lazy and did nothing but spend the day sitting in the local saloon smoking cigarettes, sipping his coffee and saying, "I spit on you dirty Americans" and spitting on the floor, so he was always broke and needed the income she was bringing in. But today the town is but a shadow of its former glory. Like most boom towns, when the boom is over, people move away and the town slowly dies. In the case of Frenchglen, this happened in the mid 90's after some ecofreak had observed a spotted owl living in the forest that surrounded Frenchglen and once word of this spread, our trusty ole cigar smoking, feel your pain President Bill Clinton quickly passed legistration to protect that one bird, thus devestating logging, put 1000s of people out of work, and killed off the once striving community of Frenchglen. This was all prior to President Clinton putting a whole new meaning to the phrase Free Willy, so at least the people of Frenchglen got a little pleasure getting to watch Ole Slick Willy squirm in his seat, while he lied to the entire country about getting a BJ. But none-the-less, Frenchglen is dying, the shops are all boarded up, the people have mostly all moved away and only one saloon is still open. On the floor, next to a table by the door is a stain; a sole reminder of better days when some old Frenchman named Glen used to sit here day in and out cursing Americans and spitting on the floor. Upstairs is French Glen's other remaining legacy, his great granddaughter English Betty,
who has taken the family business of being the town whore. Like her grandmother, Danish Deb, English Betty is actually French but her first trick was with a bass player from Great Britian, so the name English Betty has just kind of stuck with her ever since. But unlike her grandmother, English Betty was not beautiful, in fact she was ugly, some might even go as far as saying she was a pig, and she wasn't sought after at all. In fact, she had resorted to paying strangers that happened to travel through town to have sex with her because she was lonely. And Freinds let me tell you, there is nothing quite so pathetic as an unwanted lonely whore that has been reduced to having to pay people to have sex with her. "it appears my previous statement about the town being nameless and nondescript was in error and no makes no sense at all since you all know the town was called Frenchglen and I have gone to some length to describe it and some of its most colorful people. But I am going to let the previous and erroronious sentance stand because, frankly, I am too lazy to scroll back up to the top to fix it. Oh and now, while I am once again interrupting the story, would be a good time to tell you all an interesting and little known side note. The ecofreak that initally caused all of Frenchglen's woes came back to Frenchglen to spend a month living out in the woods in search of any other endangered species that required his protection. Toward the end of the month there was a flash flood that washed away all the ecofreaks supplies and left him cold, wet and hungry. Not accustomed to being hungry, the entrepid brave ecofreak knew he had to find food before he starved to death. Not being able to find any eatable vegitation nor any small game he could trap, he remembered his previous trip and the spotted owl, so he headed off to the area in which he knew it lived. The going was hard because now that there wasn't any logging at all, the forest was becoming dangerously overgrown. But the ecofreak found what he was looking for; he trapped and ate that lone spotted owl that caused 1000s of people thier livelihoods and ruined a thriving town. But in the end, the people and the town of Frenchglen got their revenge on the ecofreak. English Betty gave him an incurable and extremely painful case of herpies which she had gotten off that Brittish bass player." As with any area that becomes depressed, property values begin to plument, and with the town of Frenchglen, the value of property in the area was at rock bottom. And although the area was extremely beautiful, is was rather remote so there was very little interest in the property. But it was that very remoteness that caught the attention of world renown bassist Florin Barbu who had been searching for a beautiful yet remote mountain location in which to build a studio and start a community dedicated to musicians. One of Florin's truest and closest friends is a brittish bass player, "name withheld due to embarrasing medical condition" who once had the misfortune to having been stuck in Frenchglen years ago when his bands tour bus broke down. Callum "oppss sorry" told Florin all about Frenchglen and how remote and beautiful the area was. So Florin, wasting no time, made plans to visit Frenchglen with the intention, if it met his needs, of purchasing the property on which he would build his music community. So it was on this uncommonly hot night in September in the town of Frenchglen that our story begins ...

To Be Continued....




Hmmmm When I first started this topic, my only thought was to start rambling on about nothing in particular and being as weird about it as possible, just to see where it led me. The next thing I know a story starts to emerge. Granted, its in my off-the-wall rambling style but I think this may turn out to be fun. I will end it here for now because, one I am tired and need sleep, and two and most importantly, I actually have an idea where to take it next which goes against the whole point of this thread.

 

[Callum]

Haha i don't know whether to be shocked or honored at a mention in your story! Great read as always, i'm looking forward to the next installment!

 

[jester]

Ramble On You BassPlyr Randy...

 

[golem]

IIRC it was Randy who initiated the "never
ending story" thread, and if you read that
thread you can see why Randy has come to
realize that such a story really hasta be a
DIY project. Yugo Randy !


​

 

[Florin]

Aaaand?

 

[MaxOnBass]

tl;dr
just kidding, hearing other people's rants is a nice change

 

[golem]

Do they actually have hot
August nites in Oregon ?

​

 

[flipper_gv]

great read, looking for the rest.

But just one thing I need to ask: More paragraphs please.

 

[Pedro]

great read, looking for the rest.

But just one thing I need to ask: More paragraphs please.

yeah man think my eyes are ♣♣♣♣ed now, i'm seeing lines of text when i blink lol.

Lets keep it going, and make sure you give every1 on the forum a mention

 

[BassPlyr Randy]

It was about 6:30 in the evening when the beat up looking Green and Yellow Scion XB, containing Florin and his possee, rounded that last bend in the highway that led them straight into the town of Frenchglen. "To me, the Scion XB looks more like a large cardboard box with wheels than it does a car, and the green and yellow paint makes this Scion look particularly hideous. It should also be pointed out that this vehicle was not Florin's first choice, but he had little to say about it because it was the only vehicle the car rental agency had left. Which by the way, was a lie, but Florin didn't know that. Appearently the agent at the Rental Car agency was having one of those bad hair days and just thought it would be funny to make Florin and his possee take the most hideously ugly car on the lot." As the car pulls into town it heads straight for and pulls up in front of the saloon, for this is not only the only remaining saloon in town, but also is the location of the only remaining hotel in town.

As Florin and his possee entered the saloon, the first thing they noticed, other then the spit stain on the floor where French Glen used to spit his curses at the Americans, which they all carefully avoided not knowing what it was, was a giant portrait of Callum on the wall over the bar. What intriged them all about this so much was according to the engraved brass plate attached to the frame, the portrait was not here as memorabillia of a famous bass player that once stayed at the saloon, in fact there was no mention of that, but rather was a memorial to English Betty's first trick and name sake. In fact, the $2.50 that Callum had payed her for that little romp was on display in another frame hanging next to Callum's portrait which also displayed the original picture the portrait had been created from. Everyone got such a big laugh at having seen the portrait; everyone but Callum that is. Callum didn't really mind that his friends had found out about English Betty or that there was a portrait on the wall commenorating it. What really was bothering Callum is that he was stark naked in the portrait, and what was worse, judging by the portrait, it must have been really cold that day, or .... "for the sake of this story, we will give Callum the benefit of the doubt and just say it must have been a cold day... a really cold day" The group got all checked in and headed with their luggage up to their rooms.

Back at the airport Florin had thought that his bag felt heavier than before but just wrote it off thinking he just must be tired from the flight, but now having to lug it up the flight of stairs to his room, he was sure of it. Wanting to get to the bottom of this, he went straight to his room, and threw the bag down on the floor so he could investigate. But poor Florin nearly jumped out of his skin as his bag moaned loudly when he dropped it on the floor. He quickly looked around for something to use as a weapon to defend himself and grabed the first thing he saw. So now armed with a wooden coat hanger and holding it out in front of him as if it was somekind of magic wand, Florin bravely approached his bag, which was once again lying there quietly on the floor. He stepped forward, kicked his bag and retreated towards the door as he bag moaned again, but this time it didn't stop. This time the bag began murmuring loudly and wildly as if it was trying to talk but somehow its voice was being stiffled. But a bag can't talk thought Florin so he concluded that someone must be in his bag. But that's impossible he thought, my bag is too small for that. But try as he might, Florin couldn't come up with any other possible conclusions; there has to be someone in my bag. And just then, the murmuring suddenly stopped and once again the bag fell silent. This actually startled Florin more than the murmuring had for now his thoughts were full of wondering why the bag would suddenly fall silent and not wanting a dead body in his luggage, he moved forward to open the bag and get to the bottom of this once and for all. As he crept forward he branished his wooden coat hanger as though it was a samuri sword ready to deliver a death blow and he slowly began unzipping his bag. At first it was too dark and he couldn't see much, but slowly a darken face started to take shape.

"PEDRO?" Florin yelled. "Yea, get me out of here" Pedro gasped in reply. Florin quickly finished unzipping his bag and threw the top of his bag open to reveal Pedro laying in his bag, body all bent over and contorted. "Quick, help me out of here" Pedro said, and Florin done as he was asked carefully helped Pedro uncontort his body and stand up from the bag. "Thanks" Pedro said and without another word of explanation or anything, made a mad dash for the bathroom and slamed the door behind him. "What the .." Florin started, but was interupted by the loudest and most unmistakeable sound of flatulence that he had ever heard, followend by the sound of running water and the most euforic sounding ooo's and ahhhh's he ever heard anyone utter. Florin walked back over to take another look at his bag and found it littered with empty cans of Irn Bru and equally empty tins of kippers and devoid of any clothing except a single Warwick Community T-Shirt that was balled up and looked as though it was being used as a pillow. Finally, after twenty minutes, Pedro reemerges from the bathroom looking very relieved indeed.

"Ok talk, what are you doing here, how'd you get in my bag, and most importantly, where are my cloths?" Florin actually looked more amused then upset, but he was concerned about his clothing. Pedro sat at the edge of the bed to relate the whole story to Florin. "Remember back home when you gave me that ride?" Pedro started. "Back in England while Florin was on his way to pickup Callum for the trip, he spotted a young man on the side of the road hitchhiking. Being the kind of person Florin is, he picked the young man up and that's how Florin met Pedro." Pedro continues, "Well you told me about this community you were planning to start and being a musician myself, I knew I had to be a part of it. So after you dropped me off I took the bus to the airport and after you and your friends checked in, I snuck into your bag in the baggage area and here I am." Florin, still looking a bit bewildered said, "But how did you get in my bag like that?" "oh" said Pedro, "I was raised in a circus by the circus performers and have been trained to perform in many acts. At one point I was a contortionist, so slipping into your suitcase was actually pretty easy for me." "It is true that Pedro was raised in the circus by the performers just like he told Florin. However, Pedro neglected to tell Florin the circumstances that lead to his being raised in the circus. Pedro was the second to youngest boy of a family of 15 children who lived just outside Winchester England. His parents had taken the whole family to see The Great British Circus when he was still just an infant and somehow in all the excitement and the chaos of having so many children running around, Pedro was overlooked and his family accidently left without him. He was found laying in his blanket in the lions cage. Luckily he was spotted by the bearded woman before the Lion was returned to his cage. After several days in which his family didn't return to get him, it was time for the circus to pack up and move to their next location, so they just took him with them and began raising him as one of their own. It could be said that he was raised by everyone in the circus, but when it came right down to it, the bearded lady was the closest thing he had to a mother and father."

"What about my cloths?" Florin demanded. "I am sorry" Pedro said. "But there wasn't room for me a few supplies and your cloths, so your cloths are still at Heathrow Airport." "Oh great" Florin began, "Now I will have to buy new cloths. Well since your here, you might as well join us." And as simple as that, Pedro became part of Florin's community of musicians. Florin and Pedro made thier way downstairs to join Callum and the rest of the group in the saloon for some dinner and possibly some liquid refreshment before calling it a night. Tomorrow they are scheduled to meet the real estate man and look over some properties.

To Be Continued....

 

[Pedro]

lol cheers for that

(shouldn't of asked to be in the story :lol