Dear Listener,

There are three rules for making music.

1. Use instruments.

2. Rehearse before recording.

3. Never let a chicken convince you she has the ability to mix, master and produce an album.

Well, we used instruments, but we didn’t even get through half of a rehearsal before the chicken showed up. The only female named Stanley I know. Stanley’s aspirations to become a major producer in the music business made it clear that she was not your normal lay an egg a day kind of chicken. Once you’ve heard this record though, the only clarity is the one where Stanley would be better off looking into other options.

At this point, it is what it is, a musical mess riddled with miscues, missed notes, and missing band members. It could have certainly turned out cleaner and a bit less raw, but before this all sounds like a disaster, it should be noted that there is some pretty damn cool stuff on here. The good news is that despite its flaws, this album is completely harmless since it’s all about nothing and it never happened anyway.

Not so sincerely,

Archie

P.S. If you ever run into Stanley, please tell her we want our $500 back.

Now, without more balogna than is needed, Heavy Water Cult is still somewhat uncertain about presenting:

Nothing Never Happened

Content:

Introduction:

1. Furthermore

Part I: Dismemberment

The band undergoes a transformation due to a set of evil yet erotic circumstances.

Nothing will never be the same.

2. Abigail Busenbanger

3. Interlude

Noun (in-ter-lood)

1. an intervening episode, period, space, etc.

2. a short dramatic piece, especially of a light or farcical character, formerly introduced between the parts of acts of miracle and morality plays or given as part of other entertainments.

Part II: A New Chapter

Emboldened with a new identity, Heavy Water Cult hits the restart button and search for a concept for their next album, and they come up with....nothing.

4. Much ado

5. Old Man

6. The Frog

7. An Interesting Subject

8. Interlude (part 2)

(See above)

Part III: The Winning Ticket

Nothing could prepare them for what would happen, but it wasn’t available. Good thing it never really happened anyway.

9. Cockroachian

10. Andrew

11. It’s about time

Additionally:

To understand the ending, one must know where it all began.

12. The Marser Farcker

Conclusion:

There is no nice way to say this. Heavy Water Cult is doomed.

13. Stanley

Heavy Water Cult is:

Pedro: Drums, Percussion and Electricity

Roland „the Magnificent“: Bass, Fuzz and Wizardry

Dorian: Guitar, Groove, and Unpredictability

Archibald Humperdinck: Vocals, Spoken Word, and Confusion

All songs composed by Heavy Water Cult. All words by Archie. Recorded at the Glowing Green Studio in the Depot Train Station in Freiburg, Germany. The only right we wish to reserve is the one where we get to be silly if we want to be.

Mixed, mastered and produced by Stanley the Chicken for $500.

2018

Part I: Dismemberment

1. Furthermore:

The following is background information regarding the origins and whereabouts of certain individuals involved in the adventures of Heavy Water Cult. So here we go.

It is widely known that evil matter is a fickle thing, because all that it ever really wants to do is run away and be evil. That’s why keeping it and keeping it together is so very very very difficult.

So if that’s what you want to do, not to be a bother but you better know a thing or two. And first, you’d better get some glue. Well the best of all the glues, if one would have to choose is the glue made by the Evil Glue Company.

We hold your evil together.

That old brick building wasn’t always old, and it wasn’t always a train station either, but it always was brick. In its early days, that young brick building was a factory where the Evil Glue Company made its glue. For those who dwell in hell, and some upstairs as well, evil glue was a bare necessity.

Oh no! It got out!

And then came the day where evil had its way and things would never be the same. The evil came unglued and everyone was screwed all thanks to one stupid dude.

Run for your lives!

In a moment of chaos and thunder, and one man’s bumbling blunder, the fabric of the cosmos suffered a bit of a tear.

If there’s one thing you should learn, it’s that you should not mess with evil.

When it was all over, the door to the storage room was sealed and the Evil Glue Company was shut down. According to the final report, after reviewing the office records all but five beings were accounted for. These were, in no particular order, the chief lab technician, an unidentified man believed to be part of an experiment, a horse, a rooster, and a very snotty frog. None of them have been seen since.

2. Abigail Busenbanger:

There is a story that could be told, with disagreements, bad tempers and flaring nostrils, where in the end the Heavy Water Cult lineup would transform. Truth be told, it would be a mildly entertaining story at best. So while the actual events were mostly unnecessary, fortunately a much more interesting and unfathomable version of these happenings took place from another vantage point in a parallel universe. Alone its mysterious nature makes it the more natural and appealing choice for telling, though those who survived would never retell it, and those who didn’t survive can’t for obvious reasons. But if they could, it would go something like this.

As the months passed by following that one strange night, Pedro, Phil, Dorian, Roland and Archie put together a catalogue of fuzzy doomin’ stoner stuff that had the Gods of Rock tuning in every Thursday night with great pleasure. The atmosphere was brilliant as the beer flowed freely for everyone besides Archie who stuck to his steady diet of Heavy Water slime. Things were going so well in fact that one night Archie forgot about the power of his devastating atomic urine and went to use the lavatory instead of going outside. Once again, a small portion of the Depot Train Station was damaged, but since no one was around to notice, it would later be written up by the police as an act of random vandalism.

Had any of those five men known ahead of time what was going to happen on the day of their doom, they would likely have a difficult time resisting the temptation to go through with it. This was because beyond all of the madness and mayhem, certain elements of these events were actually tantalizing and enticing to them.

But they didn’t know, and once it began, there was no stopping it anyhow.

So as not to be too confusing later, it would make sense to take a brief moment to mention the troubles of one Abigail Busenbanger, who would have likely been given the nickname Abby if she had any friends. She didn’t have any friends though, so no one called her anything, and there were two reasons for that being as it was. The first and probably most understandable reason was because she was an insurance saleswoman. The next reason was because 95% of her was made of evil, possessing great powers of seduction which she loved to use to sell expensive health care policies to old and sick people near their death. The other 5% of her was made of a very sticky glue that had been specially designed to hold all of the evil together.

To Abby’s dismay, the steady rise of government supported health care in America gradually chipped away at her profits in the business, and like any saavy capitalist would, before her finances became endangered, she decided to become something even more evil, a used car saleswoman.

With the recent death of one of her wealthier clients, it was no real revelation to Abby that she would be the sole beneficiary of his estate, which included a lot of money and a beautiful chalet in Southern Germany’s Black Forest. She soon left home and started over, amassing great wealth and eventually purchasing a small office complex. It wasn’t fate that put her in the Depot Train Station in Freiburg, instead it was the somewhat ominous charm of that old brick building that had attracted her.

There are a few more things about Abigail Busenbanger that should be taken note of before continuing. For one, Abby was one hell of a being to observe. With her long, straight red hair, veluptuos curves and a deep, green eyed stare, she was for lack of a more potent description, quite a dish. These features, coupled with her irresistable powers of seduction made it very easy for her to get what she wanted.

However, no being, good or evil is ever perfect, and neither was Abby. There is always something, some weak spot where every part of an otherwise immaculate creation is vulnerable and exposed. She knew nothing of this weakness, and it would catch her by surprise.

Phil had always fantasized that his talent had the ability to make women worship him, still he never believed it would really happen. The whole situation can be neatly drawn up into a simple formula that goes as follows: put a guitar in Phil’s hands, and he is going to rock, then put him in a room with a hot and horny red head who rips his clothes off and he is going to find something to do with her.

On the Thursday after Abby had moved into her new office, Phil showed up early for the jam session as he always did. He liked to get himself focused and warmed up all on his own. Abby’s office was just two doors down from Roland’s Catering operation, and the sounds of Phil’s guitar quickly made their way to her ears as easily as they had to everyone else’s inside the building.

At first, she was paralyzed. Then, she began to sweat, and though this story has yet to yield the descriptions of some very odd and intimate situations that are quite difficult to put into words, it should suffice to say that Abigail Busenbanger’s body and soul were moved in a way that they never had been before.

There was no holding her back either. Abby ran down into the basement, barged through the door, tore all of Phil’s clothes off of his body and made him the absolute happiest person who has ever existed in the entire history of mankind.

If this tale were to end now, it would actually be rather pleasant and enjoyable in itself. It was not the end though. Instead, it was at this point that things would start to unravel incredibly quickly with four grown men doing some rather disgusting things and one of Roland’s best part-time kitchen helpers meeting with his demise because of it all.

Pedro walked into the room then, and needless to say he was slightly surprised by what he saw. Phil was incoherent, living spellbound in a garden of pleasures and unaware of his surroundings. Pedro did not know what to make of things, and he raised a single finger in a brief effort to inquire about it. That was as far as he got.

Abby had not been expecting anyone, but that did not mean she was not prepared to deal with the situation. She locked her eyes with Pedro’s, staring inside him and searching for his deepest desires. Pedro couldn’t move. He was uncomfortable at first but soon didn’t care about anything at all. He thought about his electrical current generator in the back of the room. He thought about how much he enjoyed using it, about how he always wanted to try something with it, but he never built up the courage to actually do it. In an instant, all of his fear and doubt were gone. He walked over and turned the generator on.

Things only got more complicated when Roland, Dorian and Archie all walked in together, where their laughing and jolly expressions turned to confusion and disbelief, then froze into shock and horror. Phil lay sprawled on the ground, and he looked drunk to them. Then there was that really hot woman who was about to unleash her wrath upon them, but not before they saw Pedro who was bent over his electric generator with his pants down.

Clamps and wires were attached to various parts of his body which was certainly awful enough to observe. However, the worst and most unerasable vision was of Pedro using a microphone for something that would make it so none of those men would ever want to use any microphone ever again. Their fascination held them captive and their jaws would not even fully drop before Abigail Busenbanger tore into them.

„He’s mine!“ she hissed, and threw herself onto Phil. One by one, she stared the three remaining sane men into submission until they too were doing things so very nasty and appalling that it would be best not to describe them, if only out of respect for Alexander, the part-time kitchen helper.

Since he is about to die, and he is otherwise irrelevant to this story, no details about Alexander will be mentioned, except that his friends called him Alex, and that he liked to smoke cigars while playing poker with them on Saturdays, and that he also had a stamp collection that was worth quite a bit of money.

Alex was the only one who would bear witness to it all. Knowing his boss was in the basement on Thursdays, and being unable to locate eggs in the refrigerator, he went downstairs to ask Roland if he had forgotten to purchase them that afternoon. That happened to be the case, but it wouldn’t have to matter to Alex much anymore because what he saw in that room instantly melted his brain and he died on the spot.

When Archie woke up, he looked around at the mayhem in the room. He put his clothes on and threw a blanket over Roland and Dorian after using a mikestand as a pry bar to separate them. He then heard a slight moaning sound in the back corner of the room and cautiously moved towards it to where he would find Pedro, who was curled up in a ball, shivering and drooling, and still hooked up to the generator. When he went to shut it off Pedro snarled at him like an animal, completely addicted to his sensations. After a few more unsuccessful tries, Archie got tired of it and urinated on the generator, utterly destroying it.

Slowly, everyone came to their senses and tried to figure out what had happened to them. Everyone was sore or confused, or both, except for Alex, who was dead, and except for Phil, who was gone along with his guitar. Quickly and quietly, the four men buried Alex behind the train station and went their separate ways.

After a few months, the remaining members of the band decided to regroup and start anew. It would be the only way that they could work through and try to forget what had happened that day. As a band, Heavy Water Cult became stronger and stranger, and the Gods of Rock delightfully kept their dial set on the Depot Train Station every Thursday night, not just for the awesome rock sound, but they wanted to be there if Abigail Busenbanger ever showed up again.

She was hot.

3. Interlude

Part II: A New Chapter

And now, without a smidgen of an idea as to when, where, who or what, we present to you a legend of the utmost insignifigance. The very oddity whose occurence prevented one of Heavy Water Cult’s many non-existent transpirings from taking place. Its content is almost as complicated as it is important, and we are getting ahead of ourselves by putting it right here in the middle of the program. We can’t put it at the end though, because that would put the end in the middle, and that just doesn’t jive. Furthermore, it had nothing to do with the band, and as with all of the other puzzling and mythical musings that have had to be painfully endured, it never even happened at all.

Be warned that this is a rather mundane affair with only one feature that offers even a sliver of substance for pondering. That would be the inexplicable phenomenon where a Tuesday mysteriously mistook itself for a Thursday. The problem is, it can’t be explained, meaning we can’t explore it further and we don’t have any other stories to tell right now because the other adventures that didn’t happen would not not take place until much later. So finally, after an introduction that is actually longer than the story itself, and since the stars were configured just that way, we give you, much ado...about...whatever.

4. Much Ado

And now

Without a smidgen of an idea there comes a tale so tall

And we are proud

To announce that it never even happened at all

With much ado

Could there ever be a better waste of space and time

And though it isn’t true

The facts of the fiction cannot be denied

The only way to truly be free

Is to feel the power of fantasy

Oh the wonders and the sights you’ll see

On the way to the middle of infinity

Thanks to the stars

We’re gonna tell a tale that is totally out of place

Whether near or far

The fabric of the cosmos weaves in wonderous ways

It should be told

That where ever there is a push there is a pull

And you should know

That where ever you see some bullshit

That doesn’t mean that you’re gonna see a bull

Keep the real in reality

But when you can you should try to break free

In the mind there lies the key

To the door where anything can be

Let your mind run free

And do a little diddle about the middle of infinity

Let your mind run free

And have a little fun in a world of fantasy

Let your mind run free

And mess with the riddle at the middle of infinity

We know that we’ve been laying down baloney from the get go

We don’t try to deny it’s hardly bearable

Nothing is never gonna happen any day now

And when it does just because it happens to know how

Much ado and it ain’t true

One day in a week so bewildering

While walking down a walkway oh so wobbly

A gentle gentleman jives along gently

Confrontation with a canine so uncomfortably

While walking along a slightly uneven pedestrian walkway, an elderly gentleman was approached by a strangely colored creature of the amphibious nature. Unbeknownst to the pond dweller, the man had just departed from an encounter with a canine that left him befuddled and lost in thought.

Amphibian approaching awkwardly

Crazy critter criticizing critically

Just joyfully jeering oh so judgingly

Poor person posed with problems so unprobably

If he had any sense of compassion in his slimy body, that arrogant little fly eating twerp might have kept quiet and left the kind but troubled man alone. Arrogant he was though, and he even thought himself an expert on what the proper attire for the season was, allowing himself to be rude enough to make unflattering comments.

Take time to contemplate calamity

Pick a place to ponder possibilities

Recount accounts of encounters confusingly

Never knowing whether never isn’t happening

All of this only confused the poor old man even more, and that on a day when he thought he could finally decide what to do with the extra room he had in his house.

The End

A room that has no need for necessity

Feel free to furnish it accordingly

Tell time to terminate monotony

Untether nothing never ever happening

Open the door

There’s a time and place for everything

Except if you are nothing

5. Old Man

There’s an old dog

Hanging on the corner

There’s an old dog

Standing on the stage

They used to say every dog has his day

But it has come and passed away for that old dog

Don’tcha pet that old dog

Stay away from that old dog

Don’tcha mess with that old dog

There’s an old man

Walking down the road

There’s an old man

Walking off the stage

There was a day when they called him a god

Now all he does is he trudges on that old man

Look in the eyes of that old man

What do you see in that old man

Nothing more than an old man

And then one day

that man met the dog

But they parted ways

because they couldn’t get along

They parted ways

They couldn’t get along

One day

You’re gonna be the old man

Only then

Will we know where you stand

6. The Frog

Oh yeah now I remember

It reminds me of something that happened to me not so long ago

Yeah that’s right

It’s all coming back to me now

And it’s a doozy

Yeah I get dizzy just thinkin about it

Let’s see if I can get it all back together now

It goes something like this

Well it just so happens that the other day I was walking along the slanty sidewalk

When a purple frog looked at me and said, hey man I don’t think you have the right suspenders on

Besides who wears suspenders on Tuesdays these days anyways?

The frog asked while licking his eyeball and showing me a form of impatience that made me wonder

I regarded the frog with a most feeble smile thinking he might actually be right

But then it occured to me that in all likelyhood it was probably a Thursday

In the light of the recent developments I shrugged my shoulders and shuffled along

Since he was looking a little more suspicious than I would have liked

I met a frog

Just the other day

Now if you’re confused I can only reassure you

that my suspenders were perfectly superb

And I’m absolutely positively not sure that a frog is a reliable source for tips on the latest fashion

to begin with

Also and anyhow

Also and anyhow

who talks to frogs

who talks to frogs?

on Tuesdays

on Tuesdays

these days

anyways?

Besides, like I said, I’m pretty darned sure that the whole thing

might have

could have

happened on a Thursday

I met a frog

Just the other day

7. An Interesting Subject

For the lack of an interesting subject

A chance presents itself

to explore

the vast and grand and intricate world of nothingness

there’s really nothing much out there

On a rack in a room without a purpose

There upon a shelf

behind the door

is the least and most disregarded part of everything

but it’s nothing to worry about

Let me tell you

With a knack for overstating the obvious

Once more shall we delve

and endure

The null and dull and non-existent world of nothingness

And nothing will never change

Alone in a room

A chair it sits and waits

But the reason for the room that it’s sittin in is up for a debate

Right next to the chair

And lying on the floor

Is a ripped up old shabby rug that’s slowin down the door

Let me tell you

There behind the door

And kind of hangin out

A hardly holding shelf is keeping nothing from falling down

Give time a little time

And a chance to contemplate

What to do with a doing nothing room that just sits and waits

Time will wait for nothing

Time will wait for nothing

No nothing is of consequence

And nothing cannot be dispensed

Because it is nothing

With the absence of a reason

Can there be no rhyme

Then the only thing left would be nothing with a lot of time

So with nothing left to do

And to do that right away

All that is left to be said is that there is nothing left for me to say

8. Interlude Part 2

Part III: The Winning Ticket:

9. Cockroachian:

To talk the tight talk of cockroachian

It’s like chewing on a needle

And it’ll make you cry

After all of the strange things that never really happened to Heavy Water Cult, there is yet another tale to tell that would have taken place if certain stellar alignments hadn’t been causing a different oddity somewhere else. With its believability factor somewhere in the low to mid-twenties, there is little doubt that brows will furrow and eyes will roll. Telling it is a task of its own, because it would all be lost if not for one single eye witness, a cockroach who lost an eye in a boating accident two weeks prior. Only one painstaking attempt was made to translate it from the native cockroachian to modern english, but there were so many errors in the conversion that it had to be tossed in the waste bin. If ever an accurate version would be created, it would likely go as follows.

You might have to modify your tongue

And get a little evil

To go and give a try

To talk the tight talk of cockroachian

It’s like chewing on a needle

And it’ll make you cry

Dorian was a wild but pleasant fellow who sort of looked like he came out of the 1970’s, and he acted like it too, although it was certainly possible that he came from another planet. Either way, his presence was a mystery, but his company was so enjoyable that no one ever bothered to ask him about his past. In some ways, it seemed as though he didn’t even know much about it himself.

And then, lost in a trance during a marvelously delicious bass solo, Roland spun around and his instrument smacked Dorian in the back of the head, sending him to the floor. The others quickly rushed to check on their guitarist who sat up and smiled, rubbing the back of his head, unaware that something had fallen out of his pocket.

Don’t you know that you’re gonna have to work on your cockroachian

Cut your tongue down the middle

Light it on fire and let it sizzle

Don’t let it burn

Just let it sizzle

„You dropped this,“ Roland said as he reached down for a golden piece of paper with the black words, „Winning Ticket“ written on it.

„Don’t touch that!“ Dorian yelled and tried to stop Roland from picking it up, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Roland held the Golden Ticket in his hand for only a brief moment, not even looking at it while reaching out to return it to his band mate. Dorian did not move or look at Roland, as he was in a state of pure panic, trembling, looking at the ground and repeatedly mumbling, „please, no, not him! Anything! Just not him!“ He knew what was about to happen, and then it happened.

From behind the door

That was always locked

Laughter

Grew louder and louder

And the mighty rumble

Of a thousand thunders

Grew stronger and stronger and stronger

Until everything everywhere exploded

10. Andrew

When the smoke finally cleared, a large horse was standing in the doorway. This was no ordinary horse either. He stood tall on his hind legs wearing a sporty and colorful longcoat with a top hat to match. The shoes were pretty spiffy and though his pants were a bit too big, his suspenders were perfectly superb. His name was Andrew, and he was delighted to be where he was. Andrew then grinned a most splendid and satisfied grin, showing all of his beautiful white teeth, and he said,

Step right up

Don’t be shy

Give your luck

One more try

Will the holder of the winning ticket

Please enter the maze of infinity

Be sure to leave your shoes at the entrance

So that your feet may bleed for eternity

There is a light burning bright in the middle

It should blind you if only temporarily

You’ll then be asked the unsolvable riddle

The one that has the power to drive you to insanity

As you wander through the endless labyrinth

Don’t let all the rotting bodies bother you

Here’s an oinment that smells like peppermints

It’ll keep you yellow when you’re feeling blue

Now I know you’re thinking about that riddle

Try to solve the unsolvability

So now I’ll pose you the riddle of the middle

Which is how do you find the middle of infinity

As a part of your agonizing journey

Time and space will collapse momentarily

It is then that the weather will change

With a definite chance of a high probability

So if you’re the one with the winning ticket

You might think that it’s quite the calamity

But don’t you worry you will be just fine

As long as you find the middle of infinity

11. It’s about time:

The four men proceeded to embark on a journey that was sizzling and stupifying, involving many death defying dangers and mind melting moments. Indeed it was so sizzling and stupifying that its retelling is a lethal affair in itself, thus it will be left untold.

What can be told, is that their harrowing and narrow escape was orchestrated by the Gods of Rock themselves, who cleverly used a handfull of carrots, some sugar cubes and an old sign from a glue factory. Their freedom could not have come at a better time, because Andrew’s powers had them close to the point of unbearability.

That horse had to be the most fascinating and annoying creature to ever wear such a fabulous outfit. He would never ever stop talking, singing songs off key, telling stupid horse jokes repeatedly and laughing at them with his stupid horse laugh. As a result, those four men developed an acute disdain towards horses.

Go figure.

Some time afterwards, Dorian told them that he couldn’t remember much about his life before. All the years he spent in that room with Andrew had completely robbed him of his identity. He did remember walking down into the basement and finding the ticket on the floor, after that, it was all a blur. He reminded Roland that he was now the holder of the magical Winning Ticket, and that if anyone else ever touched it, Andrew would be back for more.

Despite all of the traumatizing experiences they never had, Heavy Water Cult forged onward, making powerful music that would blow down many a door, all the while being sure that one door would remain locked.

Stay away from the door

Cuz you know what it’s all about

It’s all about nothing and it never happened anyway

I guess it’s about time to clear the air

To let you know what it’s all about

There ain’t no point to be made

There is no purpose no reason for doing it

Except for the laughs they are worth it

And as an afterthought I couldn’t think of anything better to do with my time

Additionally:

12. The Marser Farcker

In China, it is said that the flapping of a butterfly’s wings can cause tidal waves on the other side of the world. Where the Marser Farcker comes from is not quite clear, but it is certainly nowhere near to the elegant and frail power of the butterfly. No, an event like this is more likely to have begun with the fart of a hippopotamus somewhere in Africa.

Pierre le Plemme-Plemme was a mischievous and conniving French scientist who was the chief lab technician at the Evil Glue Company from 1970 until the day he disappeared in 1977. Prior to that he had been a nuclear waste manager at the power plant in Fessenheim.

Pierre was an avid collector of shiny things, and he loved to wear women’s lingerie in secret. He also enjoyed traveling to America in his vacation time where he picked up the bad habit of cursing in English when things went wrong. With his heavy French accent and his big nose making his voice sound like a trumpet with a handkerchief stuffed in it, his rants were more amusing than daunting as he might have wanted them to be. At some point, his colleagues gave him the nickname, „Marser Farcker.“

None of that bothered Pierre, because for as long as he could remember, only one thing mattered to him, and he would do whatever it took to make it happen. More than anything, he wanted to be a woman, and he knew that if exposing his genitals to radioactive cylinders didn’t do the trick,(and it didn’t) then the evil in the basement of the glue factory would.

Pierre’s very first experiment was more of a mistake. He concocted a formula with the evil and by accident some of it spilled onto a sign from the company. The reaction was quick and blindingly spectacular, transforming the sign into a golden piece of paper with the words, “Winning Ticket,” written on it.

With his love for shiny things, Pierre moved towards the ticket, but then he thought better of it and threw a frog at it to see what would happen. Almost instantaneously, the frog’s attitude changed in a way that made it completely conceited, outrageously insufferable and simply impossible to keep as company. Pierre couldn’t take more than two minutes of his insults before asking him to leave. Today, the frog’s whereabouts are unknown.

Fearing the power of the ticket, Pierre ignored it and immediately moved on to his next attempt.

The rooster was a proud animal, strutting his stuff like only a rooster does. Upon becoming a chicken, her disappointment was more than palpable. She ran over, pecked Pierre where the sun doesn’t shine, and scurried off in a state of utter devastation, clucking all the way. The chicken was last seen filling out an application for a job at a recording studio.

Success at last! Pierre was delighted, and he felt like he was very close to his goal. Before trying it on himself though, he wanted to see if it worked on something larger. Getting the horse into the basement wasn’t easy, and once it was down there things started going wrong immediately.

Upon entering the room, the horse promptly horsed around and kicked the door to the storage room. Evil seeped through a crack in the door then, grabbing the horse and pulling it into the darkness.

“Marser Farcker!” Pierre screamed in horror. He knew right away that the situation would soon deteriorate into an unstoppable disaster and that he was running out of time.

In a moment of desperation Pierre ran upstairs looking for any possible subject for his experiment, knowing full well that everyone’s lives in the company was in grave danger. He didn’t care.

Outside, he found a young, long-haired wiry man sporting a denim jacket and he asked him for help. When they entered the basement, hot evil chaos had spread faster than a grungy basement mold ever would and Pierre knew it was over.

He would not have time to try anymore experiments and was left with one final option: try it on himself or run. He quickly grabbed his instruments and put together a very rough version of the formula he had used on the chicken.

Oblivious and baffled, the young man tried to figure out what was going on. He took his jacket off and while Pierre toiled, he walked towards a shiny object on the floor that had caught his eye. In a moment of uncanny strangeness, Pierre ingested the evil sludge, then turned to see the man reaching for the Winning Ticket.

„Don’t touch zat, zhou Marser Farcker!“ Pierre screamed, but he was too late. Evil was everywhere and Pierre keeled over in agony.

The young man then stood up holding the Winning Ticket in his hand, looking confused while trying to brush some of the evil off of his Ramones t-shirt.

From behind the door, laughter grew louder and louder. And the mighty rumble of one thousand thunders grew stronger and stronger. Until everything, everywhere, exploded.

Conclusion:

13. Stanley

Ok then, this is the hard part, the one that leaves us with more questions than answers, the one that is so very weird and inexplicable that it should have been omitted from the Heavy Water Cult saga. We do apologize for any inconvenience, but it has to be told, because it is the end.

On a hot and juicy summer evening

Pedro walked into the jam room with a paper in his hand

He showed it to the guys

Who were shocked to see a picture of Phil on stage playing in a band

It said Sporr on the base drum

And the article said they were the best new act around

„Look“ Archie cried

And he pointed to a woman who was standing backstage

With all the hotness

With all the hotness

It could only be Abigail Busenbanger

Well flabberblabbergasted

Would be the only term you could use to say how they were feeling

But there would be a chicken

Who would fuck everything up

Yeah a chicken

Who would go and fuck shit up

Well five and a half hot nights later

The guys were watching Sporr tearing up the stage

But after the show

When they tried to say hi to Phil he walked away

As though he didn’t know them

So they went back to the studio

Having no idea that they were followed

By all the hotness

By all the hotness

Waiting in the room was Abigail Busenbanger

Still there was a chicken

Comin to strut her stuff

That’s right a chicken

And it looks like we’re gonna be fucked

Watch out for the chicken

Now when they saw her

They were overcome with fear and desire

While one wanted to run

The others just wanted to stay and play with the fire

Then it all broke down

Abigail fell to her knees and started to cry

She begged for them to save her

Because Phil was now the one who had the power

And he controlled her

But then with all the hotness

Yeah all the hotness

No one could resist Abigail Busenbanger

So where’s the fuckin chicken

And when does she fuck shit up

Stay away from the chicken

And hope she nevers shows up

In the back of an abandoned barn

There’s a lowly creature waiting for revenge

On the one who took everything away

And now the time has come to make him pay

And he will

And he won’t

Stop until

It is done

Things were going fine...until

In the middle of an orgy that was so supreme

A chicken showed up and made a nightmare of a dream

For years, Stanley the chicken fought with herself and tried to ignore her inner voice which was telling her that being a woman wasn’t such a bad thing after all, even if it was thrust upon her against her will.

Ever since that day, she told herself that her revenge would be sweet and without mercy. It took years for her to develop the weapon that she needed to make it happen. It was a complicated device, so very dangerous that only a creature as desperate as a transgendered chicken would dare to use it, and it could only be used once.

Meanwhile, in the jam room things rapidly developed from a woman in distress being comforted by four men to a woman in a dress getting comfortable with four men. It was a moment of true ecstasy and bliss and those involved hoped it would last forever.

And that was when Stanley walked in, wielding something that looked like an oversized potato peeler with a motor on it. Without saying anything, she pulled the trigger and blasted her weapon at everyone. Then there was a flash of bright light, and a very loud bang followed by the evil cackling of a very satisfied chicken.

Marser Farcker!

Well there stood Pierre

Looking like he just got hit by a big fat chicken truck

What the hell

Archie cried

Because now the guys were women and they were fucked

Done in by a chicken