“The name’s Card. Alex Card. I don’t play bass, the bass play’s me. I’ve grown up in this little paradise we call Florida for the better part of my life,” he said as he took a long sip of his Coca-Cola flavored Slurpee.
“I enjoy long walks on the beach, but who doesn’t? And of course, narrating my own biographies like I was interrogating myself. Currently
I’m 25 years old, but that’s bound to change in this non-stop ride we call life. What’s it to you?”
It was obvious that Alex was beginning to get agitated. He was slowly becoming more and more confrontational, but why? Was it that he was starting to lose himself within the constructs of his own biography? Or was it perhaps that he had truly nothing to say? How sad. Old Al’ was all dried up. He had gone for a simple joke, thinking “wouldn’t it be funny if I wrote my whole biography like some sort of cheesy detective novel?”
What he didn’t realize was that the joke was on him. It was now becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t write this because he’s so funny he couldn’t even take his own biography seriously; he did it because he’s got nothing to say. Or did he? Case closed.
Hi! I’m Lindsay!
I like unicorns. If Harry Potter were real, I’d literally pee my pants. I love to brush my hair and sing songs with my pet Bengal Tiger. I sometimes feel like people just don’t understand my affinity for things that are not of this world. I have a secret collection of alien artifacts hidden in my closet and like to sing about those too. One time I was kidnapped and held prisoner by set of dinner plates and a candlestick. Another time, I flew to a land that never existed with nothing but my child-like innocence and a self-absorbed pixie.
My Keytar’s name is Lieutenant Sunshine because she is a decorated veteran at making people feel warm and fuzzy inside. She is also experienced in taming dragons, sleeping in meadows, pulling swords from stones, and climbing beanstalks. I have the sixth infinity gem.
“Lance is an individual, fleeting, sparkling droplet bursting from the crest of the great wave, eternally emerging as an utterly unique expression of it; then, in turn, submerging once again to be one with it.”
~ Tom Craig Kersey
“Lance hit drum.”
~ Lance Norman Cox
It all began with the first self-replicating molecule. The white hot knife of natural selection slowly carving out of earth’s biological slab, the perfect being. Era’s of domination by bird like beasts and reptilian behemoths; complete ages shrouded in the extinction of nearly all of our ancestors before us. All of this magnificent splendor leading up to a single specimen of euphorbia pulcherrima, commonly known as the poinsettia.
Locked away in a dank shed, with a dim lamp being its only source of light, for this first time in all of earth’s history, this plant felt rage. Some say what came next was a product of chance, others say it was an act of god, still more say it was the predictable outcome of the natural processes we already understand. Whatever you believe, one thing is for certain. That moment, when our infuriated heterotroph could no longer stand by and let its condition suffer further, a new creature came into being.
The spawn, terrified of its mother’s wrath and shuttering at the moral implications of its own existence, looked down into his clammy palms. There he saw the only thing that made sense. The Instrument he would use to secure his power and influence over the entire globe. The fate of man was now sealed.
Mongo found Jon on a dark and stormy night out in the sticks of North Carolina. He was cold, wet, and tightly clutching his tiny alto saxophone close to his body for warmth. Out of the kindness of our hearts we decided to give him a warm van to sleep in and dry Mongo attire to wear. It took us a while to introduce him into civilization and teach him how to speak properly without squawking like a pterodactyl at the common folk, but now he fits right in. Sort of. Now his red Viking beard is the only thing that reminds us of his torrid past, and every now and then, under extreme duress, he reverts back to his natural state of squawking like a dinosaur. #pulitzer