The Buffaloring Blog

First Chapter “Nerds and Specters”

buffaloringfan — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 21:04:19 +0000

Nerds and Specters

By:

L Bradford Knowles

Part I:

Entrance

Ice In April

Policemen Doing Their Duty

A Few Calls

Oblivious Entry

At First Sight

Irishman’s Ire

Beyond Belief

Entrance

A ring of fire, made blue by a combination of herbs and goat’s blood, encircled the group of chanting, hooded women. A second ring was centered within their midst. Its flames rose higher than those of the outer one and a sound like a thunder and a hiss emanated from it. One of the chanting women paused and looked to the moon.

“As bright and clear and full as it will ever be,” she commented to the witch immediately to her left. The second witch nodded and raised her hands to signal the group for silence.

“This is the moment that all of us have worked and waited for. Some of us have labored for years and some of us, perhaps even many have labored for entire decades,” the sinister congregation nodded in agreement. “But I would also like to thank someone who you may not have known or even heard of before.”

All but the speaker looked to each other in surprise and then to their leader for an explanation.

“Yes, we have great cause to thank someone who is not even here tonight. In fact he doesn’t have a clue what we’re planning or doing.”

“He?” Several witches asked almost simultaneously.

Their leader milked the curiosity of her colleagues to the greatest extent possible and then let forward with a revelation which puzzled the others. To say they were puzzled is only one description.

“We have David Harold Pinckney and his virtually unknown blog to thank for the final incantations and information for tonight to be a success… as I know it will be.”

Some of the witches whispered to the ones next to them but most remained in silent shock. One witch timidly raised her hand with a question.

“What is it now?” The leader responded briskly. “This isn’t a Q&A session, Madeline.”

“What’s a blog?”

“Are you serious, Madeline. Do you know anything about the internet?”

“Actually, I’m one hundred and two years old and I’ve lived in a cave in the deep woods for the last seventy five of those years. I think I can be excused for not knowing about young whippersnapper technology.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll accept that,” the leader protested.

“I’m afraid I have to back Madeline up here, Helga,” another witch stated.

“Why?”

“They don’t have much technology in Vermont anyway.”

Helga considered this point intently.

“Fine,” was all that she ultimately said in response. “Now if there will be no more interruptions, we can begin.”

“But wait,” the witch who had defended Madeline spoke up again. “Who is this David Harold Pinkey and why are we thanking him?”

“His name is Pinckney,” Helga corrected. “And as I already said, he wrote the blog which contained the final information we needed to bring tonight to a successful end. Didn’t you hear anything I said, Florence?”

“I did hear you, Helga but… is he a warlock?”

“No.”

“Is he a demon worshiper?”

“Actually, no.”

“Then why…?”

“Because he’s a nerd. He probably has posters of Ghostbusters all over his bedroom wall and quite likely has Dan Akroyd action figures.”

All of the witches except Florence looked to Helga with puzzled expressions.

“Dan Akroyd…you know? Ghostbusters? It was a great movie… Sigourney…” Here Helga paused and sighed in frustration. “Geez… it’s like talking to a bunch of zombies or something.”

“Alright, everybody. You’re upsetting our queen. Please, let’s just get started,” Florence spoke up.

“Yes, my sisters,” Helga said as she composed herself. “Let the dark magic begin.”

“David? David? David Harold Pinckney, this is your mother on the intercom. You answer now or else.”

David groaned and turned away from the work on his desk. He pressed the ‘talk’ button.

“Yes, Mom?”

“Why didn’t you answer before, David?”

“Well…” He didn’t have to think long to come up with a complicated excuse. “Sometimes paranormal activity obstructs sound waves or can even bend them to inordinate frequencies.” He grinned as he relished the ease with which he had made this remark.

“Oh, I see,” Jenn Pinckney said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Well, let’s hope this frequency doesn’t bend.”

“What frequency are you…”

“Go to bed!” She yelled into the intercom.

David winced at the sheer volume of her order.

“Ok… Ok… You don’t have to yell.”

“Oh really, then why is it that I always have to yell in order to get you to do something.”

“Well…”

“It’s eleven thirty at night,” David’s mother interrupted. “And by the way, just because you make an excuse more complicated or smart-sounding doesn’t make it any more believable.”

“Yes, Mom,” was all that David could find to say. “I’ll go to bed.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

David Harold waited for a few seconds, turned down the Ghostbusters theme which was playing on repeat on his computer and then turned back to the action figure on the desk.

“I’ll be in bed as soon as Dan Akroyd gets a new paint job.”

“Sisters! Raise our arms in tribute to Hell as the final step of the summoning is completed,” Helga said so loudly that she almost screamed it.

The chanting reached new heights and Florence poured a dark liquid from a wooden bowl onto the inner circle of flame. A long moan sounded from the center of the fire. The congregation went silent. Even a witch cannot help but be afraid or at least apprehensive when something, someone escapes from Hell.

“Sisters… please welcome…” Even Helga’s voice wavered at first. A hand protruded from the red hot ground at the center of the ring. It was white and translucent. A veiled face soon followed, then the entirety of a spectral human form. A veil, almost bridal in quality, covered the eyes and the hair. A long, loose-fitting dress obscured but still could not deny the presence of a female form within it.

“A woman?” Helga asked and turned quickly to Florence. Florence was too stunned to respond. There was a long silence from the witches once the moaning had stopped.

“Why isn’t it… or she moving? It’s just floating there,” Florence said after a long pause.

“But this isn’t right. She should be a he,” Helga replied.

“She’s so… beautiful,” one of the witches said just as the specter raised its arms at a chillingly steady pace.

“It’s going to take off the veil,” another witch said with something akin to excitement.

“What should we…?” Florence began to ask her superior but was interrupted by all the witches who were still looking at the ghost in the wedding gown. Such a screaming arose as not only did the face become visible but the ghost began to howl and dart back and forth within the inner circle of flame. Some of the witches looked as if they had been turned to stone. They stood so still. Others cowered on the ground. All except Helga and Florence had turned their eyes away.

“Don’t compromise the fire!” Helga yelled commandingly but already some of her colleagues were reaching towards the buckets of water which lined the interior. One of the witches slipped while lifting the bucket and the worst possibility became reality. The bucket tipped and the water dumped onto the inner ring.

“She’s in the outer ring!” Florence screamed as the specter began to tear at the backs of those in the congregation who were not facing her. Her fingers dug into the flesh as if they were made of red hot iron, burning as they ripped.

“Don’t compromise… don’t touch the water,” Helga ordered again. “Don’t let it out of the second ring.”

Many of the witches were lying on the ground in shock but the majority, who had escaped the slender and beautiful, ripping and searing fingers, already had buckets in their hands. It wasn’t long before the ring of fire was compromised in numerous places.

“No!” Helga screamed.

The infernal beauty calmed and replaced her veil after a moment of silence where the witches on the ground groaned and writhed in pain, the translucent woman in the gown moaned at length, darted out of the ring through one of the new openings and was lost from sight among the ancient trees.

Florence looked at Helga as Helga stared off into the woods in disbelief and discouragement. “Well,” she said slowly. “We now have a little piece of hell on Earth, lost somewhere in Vermont.”

It was five minutes to midnight when David climbed into bed. He flexed his fingers, sore from extensive typing, wrapped himself in the blanket and closed his eyes.

The bells of Saint Catherine of Siena’s Catholic Church, which were located directly next door to the Pinckney household, tolled their usual toll.

“One… Two… Three… Four… Fi…” David stopped counting as the bells had mysteriously stopped as well. “Huh, this will give Father Tstisitis yet another thing to worry about.” David rolled over until he heard the bell begin once again. This time, however, the sound waves seemed to be obstructed for some inexplicable reason. David was puzzled but at first unconcerned until he remembered his very own words to his mother less than an hour ago.

“ …paranormal activity obstructs sound waves… even bend them to inordinate frequencies…” He muttered with eyes opened wide. “Could… A ghost?”

The bell moaned and whined then fluctuated in pitch and volume in ‘inordinate’ ways. Finally the twelfth bell struck and everything was silent once again.

David sat up in bed and shivered, wrapping the blanket tight around him. A harsh sound startled him so much that he emitted a sharp whine. It was the intercom.

“David Harold Pinckney?!”

“Ye.. Yes, mom?”

“Stop doing whatever you’re doing that’s making that noise and go to bed.”

“Yes, Mom,” he said and lay back down. So many thoughts were running through his head. One of which was, ‘It’s so hard to live with your parents when you’re 28 years old.”

AHH BAY SAY (A Rough Mix)

buffaloringfan — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 02:23:45 +0000

The first of the rough mixes with vocals of Mac the Knife recordings. Maybe the next few posts will be finished mixes… maybe…

The Metal One: (A Glimpse Into Poorly Edited Surrealism)

buffaloringfan — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 18:37:19 +0000

This is another video that I took of “Mack the Knife” practicing one day a few weeks back. (By ‘video that I took’ I mean I set the camera up and pressed the red button and left it) You may notice that the trombonist is not entirely in the picture… hey, without a cameraman, ‘take what you can get…’ (a Steppenwolf reference) Well, take a look at this and just know that ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet’ (another shameless Steppenwolf quotation)… or, at least until you watch the movie. Then you’ve seen somethin’.

The Catchy One (The Train Wreck Footage)

buffaloringfan — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 17:57:45 +0000

The following is an actual account of a semi-actual train wreck with “Mack the Knife” Ska and Punk band involved.

There have been many train wrecks in the course of history. There have even been musical train wrecks. Interestingly enough, I not only was a part of one but witnessed it as well. Even better, though, I’ve got it all on video.

It occurred a few weeks prior to this post in a long lost basement in Milford. It was a thoroughly inviting ambiance with semi-adequate lighting, lots of extension cords, year old empties on the window sills and even… how quaint… a shelf full of bricks. No, really, something that no household should be without.

At any rate, here it is… probably the worst train wreck I’ve ever witnessed or played in.

WMS Resurgence and Revolution and Rebellion etc.

buffaloringfan — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 19:40:06 +0000

WMS Worcester Music Scene is making a comeback. I know this for a fact.

I went to the website and saw this one post by some clueless-looking dude in a Soviet officer cap. www.worcestermusicscene.com is becoming more and more powerful, precious, personable… and other ‘p words’… with each day. I heartily encourage you to go down there and read some of the testimonials posted by celebrities such as George Foreman and Al Gore. Al Gore TestimonialThe site is based upon local musicians, groups, fans and venues posting and creating profiles. There will soon be much to see and far more to fear at WMS beginning with the magical exploits of Mack the Knife – Ska and Punk band.

Thanks,

A Cool Smoke and Cigar Advice (from a 21 yr old afficionado without emphysema)

buffaloringfan — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 16:00:55 +0000

(Some of this is fictional. Read at your own discretion.)

Last night I was out on the town and what better way for someone who can’t drink to indulge themselves on the town then the next best vice… SMOKING! Alright, but to tone things down a bit, I was in a very fancy establishment on Commercial Street, Cigar Masters (previously known as Michael’s).

Can it be said that a piece of flaming, brown, dried leaves can be cool? Of course, and in many ways. It could be ‘cool’ cool or it could in fact be cool in a sense of how it feels to your mouth. I’m sure it will be very interesting to you all that I had a Rocky Patel, Decade Series last night and that the smoke was both cool and ‘cool’. The wrapper had a great, spicy flavor but the filler must have been very light because it was the most incredibly smooth cigar I had ever experienced. Real interesting, right?

Perhaps of more interest, I went home and had some very nice things to say about the “chick at the bar” as well. The management is friendly and knowledgeable and the waitresses dress very professionally. Today I came into the non-profit where I volunteer. A similar dialog ensued…

“So, Luke. Where’d you go last night?”

“Just went down to see a chick at the bar who was smoking.”

“Come on, Luke. I’m a female coworker of yours, be respectful.”

“No, I didn’t mean she was smokin’. I meant she was smoking.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“No, YOU’RE not making any sense. I don’t know what’s so bad about saying that there was a manager at a bar who was smoking a cigar and that she was smoking and smokin’.”

“Come on, Luke. I don’t need to hear that.”

“You’re being prude.”

“And you’re being a vulgar young man.”

“Don’t call me vulger.” Luke pulls out a gun….

…Well, I am now blogging this from the cop laptop in the cruiser I just hijacked with my Robert DeNiro skills. I’m on my way to Canada with a helicopter and sixty cop cars following me. Gotta go… they’re startin’ to shoot at the tires.

Cheers People,

L Bradford Knowles

The Saga Begins: the Search for the Buffaloring

buffaloringfan — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 22:36:55 +0000

“Good Doctor. I would like to introduce you to your worst nightmare… me… I have been sent by the dude who has a name but shouldn’t be called by it anyway… hence… ‘he who shall not be named’. I come with a challenge. Define a buffaloring as in a hot-sauce flavored onion ring… whoops… guess I just did that for you,” the Lukulan Commander stuttered and his bravado faltered but only momentarily. ”At any rate, Doctor Gonzo, you, and any of your minions who see fit may struggle to research the perfect recipe, made with Uncommon Condiments, which fits the definition of buffaloring.”