You can get anything you want...

[Gg]

Ext. day

a young man, with a guitar slung over his shoulder, leaves a small croft in Scotland, and breathes in the fresh crisp air as he makes his way down a country road.

the simply cords of a folk guitar ramble along with his footsteps

VO: Well, I was feeling a like a walk one fine afternoon, so I strapped on my guitar and made my way down the road, looking for nothing in particular but the fine scenery of the country side.

[Virgil Reality]

Suddenly..

"Oh f*^&ing hell! A cow pat. Why don't I ever look where I'm going?"

Our strolling musician strolls ever onward until he comes to a buiding at a crossroads. From the building comes the sound of arguing and above the voices, one with an unmistakable Scottish accent

(Well what do you expect - it's IN Scotland)

"Och begorrah Heree come's the wee laddie now"

Our hero enters the smoke filled gloom to encounter......

[Shars]

Oh what the hell...

Our hero enters the smoke filled gloom to encounter......


A trio of kazoo wielding wise old men pondering the universe over a pitcher or two or three. "Ah I see we have finally found our messenger boy. Come over here and let us tell you all about the adventure you are about to undertake. It will lead you to dangerous and far away places, only some of which can be found on Mapquest. Take this magic kazoo with you for it will help you on your quest." To the barkeep, our wandering minstrel calls "I'll have what they're having! As for the rest of you, that's just about enough alcohol. And just what have you been smoking? I just came in here for a little relaxation and perhaps a pick up gig. I have no intention of going on any quest." The wisest and drunkest of the three old men spoke up. "Yes, but the quest has found you instead. You do not know it yet but you have a musical purpose. You were meant to search for the lost chord for I have seen it reflected in the holy beer stein of Antioch. The reflection never lies. You are about to go on a magical mystical journey armed only with my kazoo, your guitar and an ensemble of brave backup musicians." To which our hero replies "No way. I'm strictly a solo act. I don't split my spotlight with anyone!" "You have not met your companions yet, but you will as your travels progress" says the grizzled old sage in the middle. "Each one will possess a special talent and you will find them in the most unexpected places. In the meantime, start practicing for the most important gig of your life—the search for the lost chord." (My apologies to the Moody Blues).

Our wandering minstrel, confused by the bar conversation heads out into the night and instead searches for a bus to take him back home. But to his shock and surprise, bus after bus drives right past him, leaving him to wander through dark, country streets alone and wishing for a flashlight. Not wanting to get pummeled by a speeding automobile, he makes his way over to a big tree by the side of the road, sits down, takes out his guitar and starts noodling away. Just as he figures out the chord structure to "Little Wing," he remembers the kazoo that the strange drunk had given him in the bar. He puts it to his lips, but instead of playing the tune he was humming, a strange, 20th century serialist atonal melody came from the instrument. Just as he was about to mumble to himself "Ew, I don't do John Adams music under ANY circumstances" the ground in front of him begins to glow a strange color. As he watches in disbelief, unsure if the vision is a result of the strange melody or the wacky beer, a road appears before him. But no, this was not an ordinary road for it was yellow and made of bricks. It wound around and around before spinning off beyond the horizon. The patterns made our minstrel dizzy and he no longer knew which direction was home. He put the kazoo back into his pocket, slung the guitar back over his shoulder and proceeded to make his way along the yellow brick road, skipping once in a while just for the nostalgic effect.

[Gg]

ext night yellow brick road

VO: It occurred to me suddenly that I wasn't in Scotland anymore. Feeling a bit like Alice, or maybe more like Dorothy, I considered applying some mascara, but decided instead to just keep on walking without the help of eye makeup, just in case a friendly bus, full of homophobics, did ever come by to take me home.

Our wanderer continued down the road, still pondering what those wise drunk men had said and unable to get that atonal melody out of his head.

VO: SO they said that I was looking for a secret chord -- I think Leonard Cohen wrote something about that.

He removes "Stranger Music" from his back pocket and finds what he's looking for in the Various Positions chapter...

VO: "I've heard there was a secret chord/ that David played and it pleased the Lord... it goes like this; the fourth the fifth/the minor fall, the major lift; the baffled king composing Hallelujah!"... Well hell it's right there! I can be home in time for tea!

But just as the wanderer places the book back into his pocket and begins removing his guitar to try it out, and squarny man, looking very much like Chris Marshall approaches:

"Hey, we found a envelope over there under that pile of garbage with your name on it."

"That's funny" he replied with stagnant benevolence, "I haven't even been given a name yet"

"Well, boy, is it yours?"

"I cannot tell a lie,... I put that envelope under that pile of garbage"

"Well then you'll have to come with me" said the scarecr... Chris Marshall character.

[Shars]

And together they ease on down, ease on down the road. With envelope in hand, our minstrel begins to wonder to himself where exactly they are going and why the need for all the skipping. He had been on this journey just long enough to realize that things could turn terribly, terribly wrong at any point. And all of this seemingly frivolous dancing was just highlighting the fact that he had no coordination. Sensing his companion's uneasiness, the Kris Marshall-like person speaks up. "This must all seem very strange to you so please allow me to introduce myself. I'm known around these parts as Robin Hood Esq. and I am here to help guide you on your adventure. Who knows his way around the forested areas of England better than me?" With a quizzical expression our hero replies "Hey, haven't I read about you? You seem so familiar but I don't remember from where. Do you play an instrument? Did I ever do a gig with you or something?" "No my musical friend. I was sent by the wise men of the pub to ensure that you complete your mission." "But why the mystery, why don't I have a name yet, why was I chosen to do this? I was just out for a night of fun when WHAM." "Ah you will learn everything in its proper time. For now just know that we are well on our way to assembling your entourage…I mean your band of merry men."

The sun is just beginning to rise as our minstrel, worn out from a night of unbalanced, gangly dancing, makes his way to a log laying by the yellow brick curb. He sits down on it and is about to pull the envelope out of his pocket when the log starts to move. "Harrumph!" the log seems to say as it rolls over revealing itself as a brown burlap clad man. Startled, the minstrel jumps up, grabs the guitar from its case and starts swinging it in self defense. "Knock it off will ya'! Can't a fat guy get some sleep once in a while without some hippie trying to sit on him?" Still shocked, the minstrel says "Who are you and why did you scare me like that?" To which the man formerly known as log answers "I'm Triar %^uck…that is Friar Tuck. Please forgive me for I'm still a little hung over. Too much sacrificial wine ya know." "Hung over? I thought you said you were a man of the cloth" says the minstrel, starting to calm down. The friar answers "I didn't say I was a good one. Oh the headache… Besides, you have a little explaining to do too. What's with the guitar? Is that thing loaded or is it just me?" The minstrel, laughing at the thought that he might have actually pummeled a friar and ruined his instrument at the same time, returns the guitar to its locked and upright position in the case and sits down next to his new friend. "You know I wanted to be a professional musician when I was younger but crippling stage fright prevented me. I was pretty good, but I would freeze up everytime I walked onto a stage. I didn't make much money. Nobody wants to hear a cowardly lyre player" admits the pudgy padre.

In his most encouraging tone of voice the minstrel replies "Then come with us on our journey. Mr. Hood and I are heading down this yellow brick road on a quest to find the lost chord. Please join us and our soon to be merry band. Perhaps along the way we can find a cure for your stage fright. I just know that whomever has the lost chord can fix your problems too." And with that, the minstrel begins absent-mindedly fingering the envelope in his pocket as the trio winds their way back to the glowing yellow road to resume their adventure.


And then…<br>

[Virgil Reality]

But as they stumbled along, the road became less glowing and more uneven as the men less merry.

Eventually they were peruaded to pause for rest and refreshments. Our merry minstrel was proferred a leather sac containing a brew of strangely odoured liquid.

"What is it?"

"A potion from my Chinese herbalist" said Robin. "Just the thing when the road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads...."

"Yeah Yeah, Well I've always been unaverse to sampling the odd substance,"said our hero, taking the sac and taking a huge draught of the brew.

"Now, who's for a few little Stanislawski exercises to access and expunge our inner angsts?"suggested our hero. "Let's all thing of a moment in our past when we felt ...."

But before he could organise the less-than-merry men there emerged from the bushes, a band of blue-painted women in vast quantities of eye make up and wearing only leather bondage gear and wielding flimsy arrows.

"Hey ladies,' asked our hero. "Can you tell me where you got that extra-length mascara?"

"There's a mall been set up in yonder castle. I got it at the "Best For Less" in the western wing. And if you buy three, you get a free lip gloss."

"Oh the trappings of materialism have no appeal for me" our merry minstrel mused. "But I do like the way the mascara accentuates my expressive blue eyes. Do you suppose I could just borrow some?"

So engrossed was our hero in his mascara mission that he had not noticed that all the merry men, including his so-called guide, had been bound and gagged by the warrior women.

"On second thoughts, better forget about the eye enhancement. I'm a man with a musical mission. Any of you lovely ladies want to accompany a meandering musician on a quest of great mystery?"

[Shars]

"Does your quest require us to slip into something a little more comfortable by chance?" said the leading lady. Seeing the potential for a little fun in the forest, and hoping to avoid engaging in an adventure with only a bunch of stinky men, our hero replied "Of course! You may wear whatever I….I mean you…like. This is turning out to be a very long, arduous but rewarding quest, made all the more interesting with the addition of you lovely ladies. Every entourage has to have its security detail you know" he said with a smile. "What kind of musicians would we be without bodyguards! Will you join our band of merry...umm…humans?" The answer was a resounding yes that reverberated through the forest and rattled the leaves from the trees. And with that, the minstrel and his companions were released from their restraints. Robin was a little disappointed to be freed so soon, but anxious to resume his guide duties.

After taking a moment to change out of the pseudo-Xena Warrior Princess outfit, the leading lady turned to the wanderers and asked "Exactly who are you and what kind of quest would make a bunch of musicians invade our forest?" "We are on a sacred quest to find the lost chord. Robin Hood here was sent by a bunch of drunken barflies to guide us along our journey. Right now, we're still assembling our search and rescue team, aided only by my guitar and a kazoo given to me by the head lush."

"What kind of chord are you looking for anyway? Is is major, minor, dominant, diminished, augmented, primary, secondary, triad, seventh, ninth chord, first, second inversion, what?" The minstrel and Friar Tuck looked at each other in astonishment at the realization that this was no ordinary warrior chick. She knew her chord structures! Wow—what were the chances of finding a bodyguard with a wicked aim, great skill with eye makeup applicators, AND an appreciation for music theory? The minstrel instinctively knew that his merry little band was nearly complete. Soon they would be on their way.

"May I please take a look at the kazoo…..what was your name again?" she inquired. "I don't know yet. I'm still waiting for the plot twist to find out. I hope it comes soon because I'm developing an identity crisis" he said as he handed her the magical instrument. He instantly remembered the envelope still in his front pocket and made a mental note to look at it while the others were asleep.

"Oh by the way, I'm Maid Marion—Guinivere's third cousin twice removed. Do you mind if I hum a few bars?" She put the instrument to her lips and out came not the atonal phrase from before, but a beautiful, lyrical melody. "This will go nicely with my handy dandy ukelele. I keep it with me for occasions such as these" she commented.

No sooner had she handed the kazoo back to the minstrel than the skies opened up with a torrential flood of water. "This is soooo biblical. And I would know!" shouted Friar Tuck. The band had taken shelter underneath a large tree when Robin noticed on the next hill over a small cottage with smoke curling from the chimney. "Somebody's home over there. Lets make our way to the cottage" he said.

[Shars]

The ever growing cast of this adventure made its way through the heavy rain and to the snuggly little cottage on the hill. From a distance, it looked very cozy and warm—very inviting, but as they got closer, it was apparent that something was not quite kosher here. They peered into the windows, but structure appeared to be uninhabited, despite the smoke coming from the chimney. As they approached the front door, Robin put his hand on the doorknob, turned it and realized that it was unlocked. "This way" he whispered to the others. "Lets wait out the storm in here."

The band slowly crept into the cottage and curled up on the sofa next to the nice warm fire to dry off. It was so comfortable in there that soon the adventurers falling asleep one by one. Noticing this. the minstrel remembered his promise to examine the letter. He reached into his front pocket, looked at the blank envelope, opened the flap and was about to pull out the paper inside when he was startled by Friar Tuck. "Look everybody! I found food!" The minstrel put the envelope back in the pocket, stood up and walked over to the good friar. There before them was a large table with three bowls on it. The newly awakened Robin wound his way over to the table, took out his handy Swiss army-Nottingham division sthingy and took a bite from the first bowl. "Too hot" he exclaimed and handed the sthingy to the minstrel who took a bite from the second bowl. "Too cold" he said as he turned to hand the sthingy to the friar. But the friar, forgetting his table manners, had already eaten the contents of the third bowl (which were just right) and was licking his fingers when Maid Marion stepped up to the table. The friar offered her the sthingy and asked if she might like some of the porridge from the other bowls. "No way" she cried. "Too many carbs. I've gotta fit back into that leather lederhosen get-up once this quest is over. Wait—what was that?"

In true bodyguard fashion, Maid Marion heard a rattle at the door and instantly hustled her charges to a back room to hide. In the room she found three beds. She threw Robin under the first one ("Its too soft under here" he complained), Friar Tuck under the second one ("Its too—well you get the idea), and herself and the mystery minstrel under the third (can you blame her?).

From behind the closed door they heard three voices. One said "Someone's been munching my vittles." The next one said "Someone's been munching my vittles too." The third one said "Someone's munched all my vittles and left a trail of crumbs that leads to the back bedroom. Oh, and he's dropped his sthingy. To the bedroom!" The bedroom door opened slowly, and from under the beds the adventurers saw three sets of hooves. Knowing they were busted, they crawled out from under their hiding places, stood up and introduced themselves to the three little piggies in front of them. After going through the lengthy spiel about the quest, the drunks, etc. the minstrel turned to the piggies and said "We were looking for a hotel or something to escape from the weather and saw the smoke from your chimney. Sorry to bust in on you like that, but we thought this place was closed for the season. It looked so familiar!" The first piggie spoke up. "You might have come across this cottage when a family of bears lived here. We are the three little piggies and we were their landlords. We had to evict them a while back because of the mess they made. Everything in here was so sticky—all covered in honey. Oh we'll never rent to grizzlies again. Listen here floppy locks, there's obviously no harm done, so get out of here and we'll call it even. Be careful not to trip over the saxophone and trumpet cases on your way out." The merry humans looked at each other quizzically. "What do you mean saxophone and trumpet cases? Are you by any chance musicians?" asked Robin. "Why yes we are! We are the best horn section in the entire forest, or were until the wicked witch of the metro area turned us into pigs. We couldn’t get gigs anywhere looking like this so we had to turn to real estate to make a living" chimed in the second of the three pigs. "Would you mind if we tagged along on your journey? We really miss life on the road." "Not at all" said Robin. "We need you guys to complete our ensemble. Now we've got a kazoo, a guitar, a ukelele and horn section. Hello big time!"

The pigs grabbed their instruments, locked up the cottage, and joined the minstrel and his friends on the yellow brick road. But trouble was brewing before them.

[Shars]

Don't ask me why, but I cannot edit "sthingy" out of the last post. The word is supposed to be Sthingy, but somehow, it is always replaced with "sthingy." Hmmm... must have displeased Bill Gates somehow. Please use your grammatical imaginations! Sorry!

[Shars]

SEE! Lets try this another way--its the utensil you use when eating soup. How bizarre!