Jennifer Lane had tragically been mowed down by a bulldozer, perhaps several of ’em. This is an archived photo.
“What are we going to do *now*?” I can hear ear of corn clad Karl bemoan from behind his drum kit in the back. “Everything *hinged* on her growing up and appearing before me and beside Chet over there, replacing his screeching, crow-like vocals with her now mature golden warblings, PHEH. Damn you Charles Anson!” Karl assumed it was long time nemesis and former band videographer Anson who was responsible for the mowing down but longer time band manager Biff Carter corrected him from the side.
“Wasn’t him,” he said plainly.
And why won’t *Chet* weigh in on this tragedy? He just stands there in his new Robo Santa costume to pair with Karl’s own corn related one, lead guitar hanging low off his neck.
—–
“Biff,” Shelley says from above, jiggling his shoulder. “Biff Wendell Carter,” she speaks his full name to fully bring him back to reality on the other side. “Band rehearsal in 5.” TBC
Sunklands 