So... it once happened, in The Magical Land of Music and Moon, that 4 mistreated animals, each hummed lonesome tunes. The animals loved the land under the moon, but were held captive by their owners, facing certain extinction and doom. Then in one common moment and in houses all separate, a turn for the truly bizarre did happen. A Cock, A Quack, An Ass and A Pig all were, at once, kicked out of their digs. Left to fend for themselves and somehow survive, a story unfolded of fantastical size. In the hind site of things, it's easily said, their exile was a blessing, not a curse instead. For they knew from the onset that abandon's bereft and banishment's bitter, still the 4 misfit minstrels had always longed for something better. The Cock kicked out of his warm hay strewn lair because he was obstinate and nasty and no longer welcome there. The Quack, it was said, was born with a wrong colored head: mistaken for female, not mallard instead. The Ass's knees always trembled and he could bare no load, so he was soon to be killed, eaten or sold. The pig was a pig and ate up all the food. His hungry owners put their foot down, "This Pig is No Good!" Outcast and isolated, they happened upon each other on a long windy road. All decided they could make pace quicker if together, not alone. And so they banded together, brothered and bound, and by surprise they discovered they could all make one sound! The Ass beat the drums, The Quack plucked the Guitar, The Pig played the bass & The Cock, loud and lurid, manned the axe and the mic. And so quacked the Quack, "We're lost! Where should we go? Will it be to or will it be throw?" The Ass hee -hawed, "Hee - Haw, I do not know!" The Pig snorted, "Snort, let's find a trough on the quick; I need something to eat or soon I'll start licking the shit off my feet." Then the Cock crowed out, "You dimwitted drolls, you're missing the beat. Being lost is not our problem! It's straight-up sweet! Lets be glad to be lost and neither found nor confined. It's better to be bumbling and losing our way than trapped by convention and minding owner's say. Lets NOT be found, let's be free instead. If we're discovered and directed, we're better off dead. Our doodle-do is decided. Our destination is Nowhere. Nowhere is our goal. Besides, I can kick up some scratch where ever we go" The Ass Ee-ah'ed, "Okee Dokee, we're set. We'll be lost, like in love and in thought and creative peak, not lost like in traffic jams waiting to take a leak." "That's right," Oinked the pig who ate up a worm, "We'll take every exit and welcome each turn." From that time forth The Refugees set off happily enroute, hunting for nothing of the expected, prescribed or suggested. Expectations abandoned, thoughts not of wrong, full of gay and glee; they carried on with a new song. Then in a gast a devil dropped in o'er their heads - he breathed out fire, branded irons and said, "Oh musical minstrels, I know where you should go: Follow this map and it will surely reward you." "What have you in hand?" asked the Cock as he hardened his head. "It's the answer to your questions." The Devil firmly said. "It's a map to a place where all will know your songs, where you can be rich, adorned and do no wrong." The Cock looked closer, and saw that the map clearly read "The Menagerie to Dumbassery." And shouted out-loud, "This is no place for me!" In response the devil howled and roared, "It will save you from this aimless place where your songs have no name. Now, follow it by the number and you will find your fame." So he threw it at the misfits and it burned at their touch. And they all threw it down into a gully or gulch. The devil was pissed, and his flame flickered out. And the band nodded in agreeance and continued enroute. They carried on with a new song. Then a Big White Rat appeared, holding a magic eight ball under his wiry whiskers. He shook the shiny sphere and said, "You're to follow this map! No question, no bickers. It says on my ball that it's certain, it's true. Don't ask again, The Menagerie of Dumbassery is the place for you!" The Ass kicked the rat and The Pig licked his beard. And the band felt stronger and traveled on without fear. They carried on with a new song. All of a sudden a stench wrapped 'round them and grew. The Pig Oinked out, "I know stank but fucking P-U!" The Quack quacked in, "For Stink' sake it's true! I've been pinned up in barnyards and squeaked out a few. But if I know one thing for certain, this smell is FOWL!" The Cock and The Ass smelled it too. They winced, and plugged their noses and then heard a horrible growl. From behind a juniper a Bigfoot appeared. He was as scary in sight as his smell had foretold. He gnashed his terrible teeth, and showed terrible claws, and the band cringed in confusion, in horror and awe. Bigfoot pound his hairy chest and bellowed, "Follow this map, you miserable minstrels. If you don't go to the Menagerie of Dumbassery, then I'll eat you all up, your lips, toes and assholes." The Cock & The Quack looked up in an instance and saw a pack of Eagles flying in from the distance. The Eagles landed in unison and pecked at the Bigfoot. They shat on his fur and fuzzied his vision. The Bigfoot lost his footing and fell down on the path, and the flurry of Eagles laughed and played with the band. "But wait," interrupted the Ass, "What if that Beast, that Monster wakes up? And comes looking, finds and make dinner of us?" The Cock reassured, as he usually did, "We'd smell him coming, make a plan and of him we'd rid." They carried on with a new song. A Fun Machine came spinning and crossed their way. And hooted and hollered at the minstrels, "Hip Pop- Hop Hooray! Take this map! Follow the way! In fact, my little minstrels hop on board, I'll take you there, with potions and poisons and not a worry or care!!" The Quack bobbed his head and asked his band, "Maybe a good idea? Should we take a ride?" But before they could answer, the Fun Machine took a shit and died. They carried on with a new song. Then a bitch and a wolf crossed the lane, and they looked friendly, if a slight bit insane. A trace of foam was still round their mouths, but the minstrels saw the froth was in the shape of a smile. The Bitch spoke up, as she usually did, and the Cock ruffled his feathers in kinship bid, "We're too wise to fight," she said and continued, "Everyone already knows that our bark is worse than our bite. So we've settled on kindness in wicked's wake. But, Be Warned! Dear misfits, don't discount us quick, we both keep our teeth sharp for safety's sake." "Where are you going?" asked the Wolf. "And what do you do?" "We're going Nowhere answered the Cock. "And we've written a song or two." The Pig explained, "But Beasts and Monsters keep getting in our way. And we are defending ourselves both night and day." The Ass snorted out, "T'is true what Pig Said. The Menagerie of Dumbasserie, keeps rearing its head." "We know of this place," said the Bitch, we've left it ourselves. And know for certain it's best avoided, full of bloodsuckers and snails, leeches and witches and trouble galore, if you go there you'll leave with a mountain of sores. So, let us hear these songs," said the Wolf and the Bitch. "Eee- Awlright," said the Ass, scratching an itch. The band played their songs and the moonlight grew brighter. And the sounds of the desert got quiet and quieter. And the Beasts and The Monsters were all held at bay as the music rang out they'd written along the way. "You have no worries no more," said the Bitch and Wolf did summarize, "for what you have here are Lullabies to Paralyze." Do you hear the silence of the evil around us? Your songs have conquered all the vicious and venomous. Neither Beasts nor Monsters can bar your path. Hear now, Misfit Minstrels, your music has freed you at last! You can stay here safely in the land of music and the moon, or travel about freely as long as you play your tunes!" They Carried On with A new song. But all the while, The Ass staid afraid. What would happen, he wondered, if Bigfoot showered and shaved? How would they smell him coming while they were tucked in their beds? And might they wake up, not as musicians but as carcass instead? Soon they forgot, immersed in their song, until a harsh realm came 'round. The stank of the Big, the putrid, the foul, messed with their gig. But The Monster, oh no, rather an old lady they knew not as friend or foe. Approaching The Cock, The Quack, The Ass and The Pig, one whiff enough to rattled their digs. "Why not?" said The Cock, and spoke to hag: "Don't bother real minstrels with a path, we've been through it and t'is fully daft." "Eeeeaaaaaawwwhhphhhht" she puffed and she pissed, her tongue forked but sagged - oh how the 4 gagged. On this tongue's end stuck the sad map, and antacid reflux tossed it upon this hag's lap. Whew the stank from that scroll - traces of Bigfoot, the Rat and the Toad. The creatures appeared and looked weird, exposed as dumbasses unable the 4 to harass. Old lady rose up and swallowed dumbasses whole, scampering off in search of another soul Until she tripped. And she died. Cuz as we said she was old. THE END.