Chapter One: The Plume of Funk
13 Dec 2023Jambrick
Chapter One: The Plume of Funk
Jambrick was not the funkiest of the bunch, but he had funked up a groove or two in his day. He had always loved music. Ever since he was a kid, he would slap his way through a funky groove, letting the stank waft about and slip through them nose hairs something pungent.
He grooved hard in the pocket, working up a foul stank. He loved the deep, rich sound of the bass, and how it could set the mood and the groove for any song. He practiced every day, and joined a band with his friends. They played at school events, local bars, and small festivals. They had fun, and they had fans, but they never made it big.
He felt like he was stuck in a rut. He wanted to explore new sounds, new styles, new genres. He wanted to find his own voice, his own groove. He wanted to make a groove that would make people happy, make people dance, make people feel. He wanted to make funk that would have the universe cringe with delight.
One day, he was walking home from a gig, when he smelled something strange. It was a giant plume of funky stank, rolling over the hills. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. It was sour, sweet, spicy, and earthy, all at once. It was intoxicating, and irresistible. He followed his nose, curious and intrigued. He reached the source of the smell, and saw a spaceship, shaped like a giant bass guitar. It was glowing with neon lights, and emitting a funky beat.
He approached the spaceship and felt a sudden pull. He was engulfed by the plume of funk and dragged inside the ship. He panicked, tried to escape, but it was too late. The door closed behind him, and he was trapped. He looked around, and saw a futuristic cockpit, filled with buttons, levers, and screens. He saw no sign of life, no sign of anyone. He realized he was alone, with the ship.
He heard a voice in his head, a voice that sounded like a mix of a synthesizer and a saxophone. The voice said, "Welcome aboard with all that funk. I am the Bass Ship, the ultimate musical machine. I have been crawling the universe for the most pungent, groovy funk, and I have found you. You have a substantial stock of swanky funk, and I want to groove on it. Join me and let's dig on this 'til we got it all grooved out, baby. I want to harvest that stanky, ripe funk, my friend."
He was shocked, and scared. He didn't know what to do, or what to say. He didn't know if he should trust the voice, or the ship. He didn't know if he was in danger, or in luck. He didn't know if he was making the right choice, or the biggest mistake of his life.
But he didn't care. He couldn't deny that disgusting groove and wondered who would.