Morrison

“You’re back Clyde.”

“Yes, Richard,” answers the pink lady-elephant. “But it’s Bonnie.”

“Where’s Gregg?” asks Richard.

“You mean Stan? He said he was on his way. What are you guys up to tonight?”

“Nothing. Heard you got a new band Clyde.”

Bonnie shakes her head. “*Howard* has a new band. That’s my twin brother. They call themselves Leona, yes. Just rehearsing so far, I’ve heard.”

“Blackstars,” says Ziffie the smaller pink elephant on the bar stool to Richard’s left.

“What was that?” Richard asks down to him.

“The name of the band,” Ziffie explains, “is now Blackstars. I think it’s a David Bowie tribute band, but Garson sued and put them in their place.”

“Who’s Garson?” asked the man in the scary rabbit costume.

“Former Bowie keyboardist. ‘Alladin Sane’, ‘Outside’… list goes on.”

“But mainly ‘Alladin Sane’,” pipes up Ziffie again.

“Yes,” agrees Bonnie. “More the (title) song and not the album.”

“Improvisor,” inserts Ziffie.

“Right you are, cousin. Three time’s the charm.”

Stan comes strolling into the cafe.

“What’s up homies?”

“Blackstars,” says Bonnie.

“Blackstars,” Ziffie quickly follows.

Bonnie and Ziffie stare at Richard, pressuring him. He relents. “Hmmm. Blackstars I suppose.”

“Cool. Let’s you and me, Richard, go see the new crop of dead people over at Pervimus’ Gathering Bar.”

Instead of answering, Richard goes up and smells Stan. “That a new perfume, honey?”