Jesse: Luckily, enough of the Potters’ music is backed up on digital media that the audience probably doesn't notice anything amiss. The song-a-day song that commemorates this night begins with the DeGeorge brothers singing the phrase “How did we get so stupid?”
Paul: I’m in the middle of playing our “Tonsil Hockey” song. I think I’m probably going to get herpes from being to close to this microphone.
Joe: I’m playing on James’s Mini-Korg. The keys are smaller so I have to be a lot more meticulous with my finger placement. I hit a C instead of D with my left hand! Crap. I think I just ruined the show.
Marty Allen: To retrieve our gear, we have to go back to our gracious hosts of Athens-gone-by, Lori and Marty. Which is actually a bonus, because we like them bunches.
Paul: We just had an insanely awesome show at the Masquerade. Despite the tiny keys, we tore this place up! The sing-a-longs were amazing. Atlanta rocked it out hardcore! We’re now in the car leaving Atlanta to head back to Athens. I convince everyone that we should stop at the Varsity (a legendary hot dog establishment) for a frosted orange. I couldn’t resist and I also ordered a chili dog. This was a bad idea. Their chili dogs are lousy. I won’t make this mistake again.
Joe: We get back to Athens to claim the missing elements of our band. Marty and Lori have been super awesome to us. They deserve three million points. Each. They are watching The Office when we arrive. It is funny. I am tired. I get directions for the rest of our journey. Everyone goes to sleep.
From the sockpuppet journal of the Earclops: It is with the heaviest of hearts that I must report the loss of a dear comrade and true friend. I heard her sweet cries as she passed from this world and into the belly of the beasts alone in the night. Oh my sweet
Pannetone cake, I barely knew you, did you know how much you really meant to
me?
Yours was a siren song none could deny, with a graceful lilt and undying soul, you held our (metaphorical) puppet hands through the thick and the thin. It seems so long ago that we first met, that fateful day, I with my bravest blushing face, leaping towards the breech. With a look, you took my (metaphorical) hand, and let us each know that all would be well. And in your grace, it always was.
And now, in a brown smear of loathsome secrecy, our dark masters have consumed you, as they will surely consume all of us. Know my pledge, my dear, that if it is within an inch of my powers I will wreak a vengeance upon them so pure that their cries will be heard throughout the ages, their limbs strewn upon every shore known to man, and their eyes beholden to a wrath so true they will weep tears of broken glass for all time and beyond.
This I pledge to you with all that I am, my sweet Pannetone cake.
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