"I once saw him decapitate a two-headed seagull with his eyes," the revenant might be heard to murmur, tossing back a tumbler of grogg. "Best damn lookout we ever had." Keep feeding the accursed seadog some drinks, and you may be lucky enough to witness firsthand Peter's gruesome handiwork in an ectoplasmic pegleg or two.
Yes, we've all been raised on stories of his devil-may-care escapades, from his island citadel which only appears by moonlight to the crabclaw massacre that may or may not have instigated the Johannesburg Incident of 1657. "But what," you may be wondering, "does this have to do with Big Stack Daddy?" Everything, naive reader. Astute historians have tortured the true story out of Perfidious Esclavia Hortmundi, the last genuine eunuch of the Holy Roman Empire. It seems that Pope Boniface XLII ("The Indecisive") had these coveted tunesmiths preserved and sent to him in jade chests after the lamentable pillage of the Cloud-Princedom of Orient, fabled to be kept afloat because they charmed the wind with their sonatas. Their bassist and interpreter died en route of disenchantment. Hearing of their plight, Longofono exhibited a rare degree of magnanimity - baffling to this day - by volunteering his formidable services in lieu of their ill-starred comrade. Their first performance together so charmed the assembled upper crust of the Continent that Prussia swore to secede from sovereignty thenceforth and forevermore. It is said that on that fateful evening, Peter attempted to resume his services by climbing up the rigging to his accustomed crow's-nest, but a lovestruck train of seraphim seized his helpless body instead and enthroned him in the cloud-swathed Musicianarium where he now resides, emerging with his bandmates each equinox to do battle with European Disco and all its scaly offspring.
Hearsay? Tell that to an embittered crew of rotting deckhands. If anyone can set the record straight, they can. They've got all the time in the world."
Peter
Back