And now, for a little CLASS

This was a rendition done by Jamie Yin of my idol, Steve Miller. It was done back in 2003, and I just found it on my shelf again today. So, I decided to post it due to it being really really neat.

MACADAMIA MUFFINS!

i have set a new goal for myself, right at this instant, i will get the phrase "like a finely tuned macadamia muffin" widely used

thats pretty much it...

Danzig Blues

Chapter 2
There is a dank haze in the room. The only light is a small lamp on a desk. Someone is looking at something on this very desk and under this very light. He's smoking a small self-rolled cigarette, then puts it out. The ash tray is almost full with dozens of smokes from times unknown.
This person is looking at a map, and he's completely baffled. The phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Tube sir?"
"Yes Charlene?" Tube said curtly.
"There's a call for you on line 2."
"Damnit Charlene, I told you to hold all my calls."
"Sorry sir, but it appears to be urgent," she said, smoothly.
"Whatever. Fine."
Beep.
"Hello? Mr. Tube speaking."
"Hello there Tube."
"Yes?"
"You don't recognize me?" asked a voice in a slightly smug manner.
"Uh, no. What is this some sort of joke."
"It's not a joke Tube. At least, you won't be laughing."
"Charlene, who the hell is this guy" Tube yelled out to his secratary.
"He said his name was Chet" yelled Charlene back.
"Oh crap" said Tube, and he hung up.
Tube grabbed his coat and ran out of the building and jumped into his car, breaking the door while doing this. He slammed on the accelerator and careened out of the parking lot, smashing into three people on the way out. Tube sweared out loud, he never was good at the whole driving thing, it wasn't his job.
Thoughts were flying through his head, he had found the map, but it seemed to be some sort of coded map, almost like a riddle. Why was Chet rapped up into this? He and tube had stopped the search years ago. Tube had been sure that no one could interfere, until now. Things had changed. Things were always changing.

Danzig Blues: A Mosaic of Flavour

Tube walked out of the bank with a gun in hand, and a cigarette in the other. He quickened his pace when he heard sirens in the distance. A man on a corner was waiting nearby, and as Tube approached him, four police cars squealed in right beside them, the tires smoking.

"Ready?" asked Tube.

"Let's do this." stated the shady man.

Tube dropped the cigarette and fired three shots into the nearest officer's head. The mysterious man ran up the front of a cop car and drop kicked through the windshield, decapitating all occupants. The man threw the carcasses out of the doors, and ducked as Tube ran in, firing shots at cops trying to get closer.

"Drive."

The man floored it, and the car hit 3 police officers, breaking every bone in their body in a stupendous display of marrow explosion.

Of course, this was months ago. Things are different now.

The man, Chet, was bicycling down an alley in a sunny Mexican town. He waved to all the pretty senoritas as they passed, and high-fived all the macho compadres. Chet turned into a garage, where a greasy mechanic was underneath a car, making some adjustments on something Chet knew nothing about. Chet only knew how to drive them, and boy was he a wonder at the wheel.

"Hey Juan," Chet kicked Juan's leg.

"Man whatchoo doin, I nearly kill myself down here if choo do that again!"

"Sorry, listen, I need the payment. Or I will kill you."

"Man, man, its ok, si? I just need another day, comprendre?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Chet imitated kicking out the jack that was holding the rusted junker up.

"¡Sí muy bien está en la parte posteriora! Now just leave me alone, man!" Juan sputtered out in a hurried tone.

Chet went to the back, where there was a desk, containing a handgun and two survival knifes. But no cash.

"Where's the money?" Chet demanded, as he stepped on Juan's chest.

"Man, it's there! I swear!"

"It's not there."

"Ok man I'll level with choo, some guy, really tall and German lookin', a real natsi came in, asked for this map I had on the back wall, choo remember it?"

"Yeah. But I'm losing patience Juan, make with the cash."

"The German guy took the map and all the cash I had...man, he hit me on the head with some weird device...I must've been out for hours..."

"I don't care. Where did this guy go?"

"I dunno idiota, I was knocked out!"

"I wouldn't complain. You'll be out for a much longer time now." Chet kicked the jack. He then got into the car, and started it up. Juan obviously wasn't that good of a mechanic, because motor oil and gasoline started spilling out all over him. Chet decided he couldn't stand the man's screams of anguish of being crushed and drowned at the same time, so he decided to ease the pain. Or at least finalize it.

Chet took out a lighter, flicked it on, and threw it under the car, and dove. The car exploded in an inferno of Mexican body parts and soiled carseats. Chet dusted himself off and rode away on his bicycle.