And an Apocalypse there was. But it wasn’t the Mishapocalypse that would bring the world to its knees. After the swift and baffling reign of Misha, the real Apocalypse took hold.
It came like one falls asleep, slowly and then all at once. It was like bleeding out from 1 million paper cuts. A small death, but a death nonetheless.
Yep, it was the end of the world. And by world of course I mean America. Surprisingly enough, so many people couldn’t see it. As the world burned around them, the most privileged doused themselves and buckets of ice and denied the existence of any such problems.
Those who were burning were not about to stick around and wait for the ashes to settle. Their world was beyond saving, and the ROTC people knew that. So they set forth on their mission: Running off to Canada.
She hit the snooze button on her Apple watch. Ugh. It was too early. She rolled back over, burying her head into the pillow, and drifted off to finish dreaming of a better ending to “How I Met Your Mother”.
“Get up!” her mother Holly shouted, “they are going to be here soon.”
Laurel rolled out of bed, and shimmied into her ripped jeans. As she trudged over to the kitchen part of their small motel room, she flipped on the TV to be greeted with the latest season of "Sherlock”.
Her mom had made them a modest breakfast of kale smoothies much to Laurel’s dismay. Holly was a fanatic though. If need be, she would walk in 90° weather just to obtain kale; she craved that leafy green.
They finished up their breakfast and packed up all their belongings. By the time the cleaning lady would arrive, there would be no trace that they had ever snuck into the room.
Laurel took their items out to the curb before noticing a small robin bird tweeting, poor thing, he was trapped under an overturned wire trashcan. With a sad smile of understanding, she approached the little one, “I know why the caged bird sings”. She tipped the bin back over and lifted the bird in her hands. He ruffled his feathers before flying away. She decided to name him William.
meghan trainor’s songs are so catchy, I just…don’t like the lyrics. and I’m not even talking about the stuff in all about that bass! every time I hear dear future husband on the radio it weirds me out because I want to listen but I’m just like neehhhh???
we were music when we were together. and not elevator music. we didn’t just fill could be awkward silences with basic lyrics. we shook souls with our rhythm. we were african drums pulsating around a fire kinda music. warming the sky with our energy.
please leave me on repeat.
your voice was my favorite sound. your physique my favorite ballad. and I sang you so damn well. your smile rapped the dopest lines I have ever heard. melodically and sensually I would sway to your beat. night after night our kisses created a capella dreams.
please leave me on repeat.
when you left, I lost all hearing. the bass of the world echoed in the background of my sad love song. all I could do was bob my head to the calming noise of the shower water hitting my once harmonious skin. “our song” turned into every song I heard without you.
please leave me on repeat.
and today, baby, I am every song you will ever hear. when you lay in bed at night, it will be my hypnotic melodies keeping you awake. because my body is the perfect verse. and my love is the perfect beat. because I am the perfect song. so sing. sing along, darling, because you’ll never forget the words to me.
(Introduction to the Dethklok Bass Anthology book.)
as Brendon Small
Hello, bass playing friends,
I’m writing this introduction as myself, Brendon Small. Not William Murderface, or Nathan Explosion or Skwisgaar Skwigelf, or Dick “Magic Ears” Knubbler, but me. Brendon Small—a humble, “nearly handsome” yet pasty, aging man in denial of his nerd-dom but fully realized as a creative, gifted super-genius and hero to those without a voice. So do please realize the importance of this lifting of my protective veil to speak to all of you Earth people as if I were one of you…
I’ve spent well over the past five years during the production of Metalocalypse ruthlessly making fun of bass players…well, making fun of ONE bass player—William Murderface. But let’s be honest, he deserves it, I’ve cut out more jokes from episodes than you’ll even hear in a lifetime in an effort to show a smidgen of fairness. The sad truth is that I wield the power to turn off a new generation of bass players. But can you imagine the backlash I’d get from the woofer industry? I don’t need to be a pariah. (A “pariah” is like a guy who takes the blame for stuff—I realize bass players are reading so I’ll make sure to leave in definitions for bigger words.) Aw, c'mon, I’m kidding!!!!!
The truth is, however: I absolutely adore the bass guitar. I love playing it, I love that I’ve learned more about it in the past five years than I have at music school, I love arranging with the bass in mind, I love traditional figured bass (which you’ll hear all over Dethklok). I love the bass. I REALLY love the bass. I do. I hope that doesn’t ruin the whole Murderface joke. But I wondered why it came easy to make fun of bass in the show. Was it because I am a guitarist first? For years, I thought like a lot of guitarists do about the bass.
So many rock/metal guitarists think of the bass as a dumber, fatter guitar—a guitar that’s fat and depressed. A fat guitar who’s having a hard time getting over a relationship, that stopped exercising and ate its feelings, and now it’s fat. A fat idiot. A fat idiot that’s not even allowed to take solos (unless you’re in Weather Report—but then you HAVE to be in Weather Report). But I was wrong. It’s not fat. It’s just a little husky. Big-boned. Powerful. Like a Thor. Like Conan the Barbarian. Like a totally powerful butt-kicking badass Viking.
Bass, to me, used to be a chubby guitar. But I don’t see it that way now. It’s a totally different instrument. It is its OWN instrument. NOT A GUITAR. A powerful, beautiful, independent hero that could crush you if it wants to—but doesn’t because it’s better than you. It is its own instrument, with its own laws and rules and ecosystem and government—sure, it’s a really dumb government, but that’s because it’s a bass government…Aw, c'mon, I’m KIDDING!!! It would be a smart government. There. You happy?
Annnnyway. I truly love bass and I love all of you. Well, some of you. And I think “love” may be a strong word based on my own personal commitment issues. But I’d have to say that, in this particular case, “love” is appropriate.
Thank you for checking this book out and I hope uh…you are all good?
“Wait till we get to the car,” Luke mumbles quietly, as I pull out my phone. I smile slightly at the fact he knows exactly what I was about to do.
“Ty told me to call when I landed,” I pout at him.
“Don’t give me puppy dog eyes that’s cheating,” he frowns as the plane pulls up to the terminal.
‘How is that cheating!?“ I object, crossing my arms at him.
I watch as he gives me the signature 'are you fucking serious’ face; head tilt to the left, eyebrows raised.
"Because you know that I’ll give you whatever I want, that’s why,” he retorts, grabbing my phone and stretching the waistband of his jeans up.
“Lucas, don’t you fucking dare,” I warn, but he still slides it under the black denim.
“Oops,” he smirks at me, running a hand through his quiff so it’ll perk back up. I glare at him, glancing between his crotch and his bright blue eyes, which are now glimmering in amusement.
“Hemmings if you think I won’t put a hand down your pants for that, you are dead wrong,” I hiss, making him perk his eyebrows up. Before he can respond with whatever witty response he has planned, Michael appears behind him.
As a young teen, I was suicidal, and a cutter. I had no passion for anything, had no friends, and hated my family. My mom decided to move to Florida when I was 13. Soon after moving there, I met the person that would go on to change my life. The first month was torture, and the school I was attending wasn’t much help. I got jumped and beat by complete strangers within my first week. My teachers mocked my speech impediment (I stutter), and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t help it… they thought I was faking it. It sounds silly to write this now, but at the time it magnified my disdain for myself uncontrollably.
Then I met “my hero.” He was proud, passionate, everyone loved him (especially girls), and he was one of the first people to truly be nice to me as a stranger. He played guitar, and loved metal music. I didn’t care about music (well, anything, haha), but he wanted to start a band with me… that became my first glimmer of purpose. I saved all the money i could get ahold of, for 6 months, until I got $150. my family is not well off, but my mom promised she would pay for ½ of a bass guitar. I went from being a “D + F” student to a straight A student. The passion and energy that my friend and metal music cultivated in me are something I honor and relish to this day. As I was about to graduate high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do in life for a job. being a touring musician didn’t seem to be in my future, haha… so, I was going to o to school for psychology.
In November of 2008 I was working 3 jobs while finishing my senior year to make ends meet. At 5AM on Black Friday of that year, I saw a small 76-Key Yamaha Keyboard. (I was with another friend who played piano, and was always so amazed to hear him. All 5 years I had played bass up to this point, I never really learned how to read music, haha, so it amazed me that he could). I decided to buy the keyboard, through his inspiration, and it was black friday cheap! I took it home, and spent the next 14 hours setting it up, teaching myself how to read music, and learning twinkle twinkle little star. After 2 months of teaching myself, a teacher at the local college offered me a 2 year scholarship to study piano there after my senior year. I was floored by his charity. I spent those years playing 8-10 hours a day, while still working 2 jobs (had to quit one). This new journey inspired a desire to create, so I began composing my own music, as well, after finishing school there, I attended Florida State University and really starting taking my composing seriously (due to the encouraging teachers around me). Now, in 2015, I have come from a small town in Indiana to New York City where I have a full scholarship studying composition at the Julliard School. I can’t express the whirlwind of emotions I have for the people that have been there for me when I needed it, and inspired me by simply sharing how easy it is to enjoy life if you embrace it.