West of Mars -- the Meet and Greet

For this week's Poetry Train, Rhian asked us to come up with scary stuff. This situation, based on real-life happenings, has been giving me nightmares. Pretty scary.

Now listen up, girls and boys. We got a problem on our hands and it's up to us music lovers to solve it.

Most of you know 'bout that chain of live music joints called Castle of Tunes. It's a good chain; they ain't the problem here, so don't go burn them down. Good people work for them. They open their doors to bands you probably ain't heard of yet, and they make sure the bands come from all walks of life and on one night or another, they try to suit the music fix for every single person on the planet. Castle of Tunes just might take over the world but that ain't the problem here.

The problem starts with the people who own the land some Castles sit on. Those people decided that certain bands -- like Hammerhead or Deadly Metal Hatchet, Carrion or Bitterness -- don't have the family values that the big, land-owning corporations like. That those bands I just mentioned, they aren't good enough for people who spend money at the big corporation's theme parks, movies, books, and all the other things they try to make us buy.

You see, music lovers. I know you do. They've crossed the line. They've gone from suggesting what we should buy to telling us what we can't buy. Which in this case, that be music. Live music. The kind that feels good and is loud and ugly and noisy and some of it's Satanic and some of it's violent and Lord knows that in the case of Hammerhead, it's sexual, too. Some of it's the sort you wouldn't be caught dead listening to. And some of it, you can't get enough of.

That scares the big corporation people. So much that they won't let these bands play in the places built on land they own. Because, you know, someone might have fun or find some sort of inner peace or something from music they don't approve of. God forbid.

Music lovers, it's time for us to stand up and put an end to this. Unless you're under eighteen, no one's got a right to tell you what you can and can't listen to, and if you're under eighteen, take a few minutes and educate those people who think they're your dictators. You never know where a new fan will come from.

The big corporation's gonna refuse to be educated. We gotta deal with them the way our parents dealt with us when we were kids and we were bad: ignore 'em. Ignore their movies, their theme parks, their cute cartoons and those stuffed animals you guys like to give us girls. Spend your money on the bands. Buy t-shirts. See if the boys in Deadly Metal Hatchet will stuff a Hatchet, and give that to your girl. It'll hurt less when she uses it on you.

Take yourself to the other clubs. If you hear a band's been thrown out of Castle of Tunes, go see 'em at the place that's got the nerve to take 'em in. Make sure that place earns lots of bucks from that show. Let the corporation see how much green stuff they lost. Make 'em understand that they can't control us music fans.

We got the power on this one, boys and girls. Let's use it. And once you do, be sure to lobby for ol' Chelle here. She might be out of a job once the big bosses at the Trumpet read this piece. That's okay. Chelle's got to fight. 'Cause once people stop bands from comin' 'round town, Chelle's gonna be out of a job anyway.


Want more Chelle?

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The first Chelle piece: Jock La Feet
Bitty Bands

Labels: Chelle LaFleur, creative writing, fiction, Poetry Train, Rhian/Crowwoman