The airport. Rendevous with the Katastrophic Quartet
Karma brings the hijacked car screeching to a halt outside the main entrance of the doors to the airport’s departure lounge.
Torch it Purple! commands Karma.
Purple flicks his tail and the car bursts into flames as they somersault inside the building.
Do we have enough time ? says Purple cat.
Yes we do. But we are going to make some or should I say take some.
Of course. Think of a speed...anything above 300,000 kilometres per second.
Yes.
Divide by the speed of light.
OK.
Square it.
Right.
Subtract from 1.
Yes.
Take the square root.
Great.
Time slows down enough for us to steal some.
Benedicat Maledicat.
The best dressed purple cat.
Who writes a line without a blot. And scarce could even give a jot
For manifold duplicity and bestial greed.
He’s the cat with the claw. He’s got the pen for the deed.
A voice crackled in the air.
Flight KLK is now boarding. Would passengers please make their way to boarding Gate……
The announcement is drowned out by shrieks and whoops of delight when old friends meet up together again.
Among the disorientated passengers and bored ground staff appear four incongruous individuals. They truly look like they are from out of this world (one of them is not actually from planet earth) and they are old friends of Karma and Purple.
Yer band of outlaws and back up musicians
The Katastrophic Quartet. Hector, Bob,Tina and Eddie.
Karma says, What a wonderful surprise. You thundering bunch of misfits. How come you are all here?
Well, if it isn’t the Kappa Lambda herself, murmurs Tina Wayton. As you can see, we got the band back together.
Back together. But how? Why here? And how did you find us? Chimed Karma and Purple in unison
It’s not hard to find a girl like you, who leaves such a trail of destruction in her wake. says Tina.
The boys nod their heads ruefully.
Amare Nina, murmurs Beserker Bob as he stoops to kiss her outstretched hand.
Hey Babelicious, says. Hector Babenco with a flourish of his pirate’s hat.
Eddie the Beagle waves at them like a school boy and somehow manages not to poke himself in the eye.
And the little furry Purple One! All four of them scoop up Purple Cat to give him little tugs on his chin and ruffle his ears which makes him blush like a ruby stone.
Karma Love Kid and the Katastrophic Quartet.
The band's line up is an odd bunch of individuals; on drums we have Beserker Bob, a giant arachnapulpotot from the remote planet, Pulpotonia. A lumbering rocky sphere that spins lazily on the outer edges of the Milky Way. Karma had sprung him from his last tenure on a prison colony on Pulpotonia for exploding a black hole.
Bob is infamous for his penchant for explosive devices which increase in scale when he joined the band as their fame grew.
It got to the point where Beserker Bob’s dynamite antics could not be tolerated at the same performance as the rest of the band so, not wanting to lose their inimitable sound, a deafening thunderous backbeat, it was agreed that Bob could safely play at a reasonable distance (a nearby planet or satellite) from the chosen venue.
Bob’s origins are esteemed indeed, half octopus half spider crab, it is hard to tell how many appendages he really has, but play he really can, knocking out or should we say detonating, what the listener might describe as witnessing the collapse of a neutron star. For all the macho posturing and fierce outward appearance when Bob is away from his kit, he is the shy retiring type who shuns the groupie hysteria that follows the band.
Hector Babenco looks like a pirate, smells like a pirate and plays guitar like one. Here we have all the gesturing, grimacing, mocking and sneering send up of the ultimate rock god. He makes Rich Kithards look like a bobby socked mall princess on a shopping spree. Hector goes for the layered look; billowing scarves, countless bracelets, bangles, baubles and beads.
Bedecked in this silken finery, he struts the stage like a maniac on hot coals to such a degree, one can discern the sulphuric fumes that emanate from him and in between numbers he will, in a matter of seconds reappear in a new guise causing the female members of the audience to wet their silken panties and swoon deliriously.
An elegant Lemmy from Motorhead crossed with a fourteened fingered Shimmy Gendrix. Hector plays a double necked Dean Razorback Explosive Electric Guitar, the fretboard and head morphing into different animal shapes: snakes, lizards and goats that mimic his contorted face pulling, as Hector strains himself effortlessly.
He also provides backing vocals but saying that belies his true talent as a falsetto that shatters three inch thick glass.
The monolithic amps that stand behind Hector are lowered onto the stage by enormous cranes and he loves to be whisked up to the top of them on what looks like a fire breathing bat.
On bass guitar we have Tina Wayton. Tina is a big girl. There is an exceeding amount of her…well let’s be plain. She has the kind of figure that draws exaggerated curves in between her curves. She bobbles, topples and jiggles her ample flesh in mesmeric fashion.
Journalists always fail to capture her girth when they resort to the word curvaceous but in a one to one encounter in the flesh, she overwhelms you, not by her sheer size but by her ineluctable charm.
Every pore is devoted to the exaltation and cheeky sighs that envelope you in a Johnson baby powder cloud of innocence and fun.
Blond and pig tailed, up turned pierced nose, dog collared and heavily studded lingerie, ripped tights squeezed into 28 holed silver Doc Martens. Tina doesn’t have to move an inch to hold your attention but on occasion she will suddenly do her famous signature dance that resembles a gecko on very hot sand in the Sahara desert.
Eddie the Beagle is part roadie, part sound system engineer/ lighting technician/ catering manager/ bouncer/ occasional tambourine player but mainly roadie because that’s what Eddie looks like. A scruffy roadie. Competent in every conceivable skill in his profession but outwardly he gives one the impression that he can not only find his boots first thing in the morning but would be challenged to lace them up in some manner that would avert a tumble to the ground busting his button canine nose.
One would hesitate to leave Eddie in charge of a clutch of chickens. Whether this was artifice on Eddie’s part in an effort to beguile you with his innocence is never clear but when his moment comes to show his true worth he will astound you with his awesome technical expertise.
Karma has some plans for the new tour.
Playing in the round for an audience has always been a most satisfying experience because of such high visibility with the audience. It crosses over the fourth wall where both performers and audience lose their egos.
Hector, you might find that last bit ….a bit challenging,
So both parties reach a transcendent plateau of unity and bliss, says Purple
Similar to that 360 degree tour those Irish guys did says Eddie.
So, let’s take this concept to the next logical level. We will perform on a stage in space orbiting the earth.
Eddie can do it. Can’t you Eddie?
Well, I guess I could give it a go guys, says Eddie.
Karma love kid and Purple Cat pass through the sliding doors and up the escalator through heavily armed security, magnetic and laser sensors and electronic digital optical devices.
Past the cameras and with a stealth of silence sucked in for a nano second, they approach the Immigration desk for an amusing diversion. Karma gave a shrug of her collarbone and the band sailed on towards the boarding gate.
You guys wait up ahead and I’ll beam you on board when we get through this charade.