My OperaThe Ball of Chaos, The Wedding, and the Wrecked White Whale
Friday, March 23, 2007 7:21:51 PM
This is a tale. A tale of tales.
A tale of a wedding
and a wrecked white whale.
Tween Nawlins and Austin this tale is told,
By a ball of Chaos 29 years old.
Affectionately called such by friends and foes,
For calamities occur wherever he goes.
He wakes up late almost missing his train,
and the voice box cabbie drove
slow in the rain.
Didn't have time to wash a load,
So his bags are packed with reeking clothes.
No phone charger, no shirt for his suit.
No tie for his shirt, and a beard to boot!
A train leaves on time. Make no mistake.
But passenger trains
have to wait for the freight!
Treated second class and made to be late
for to pick up the whale in the lone star state.
And the wrecked white whale
lies waiting in dust
for its new driver to knock off the rust.
The station in Beaumont was lonely and cold
Rocks and a bench and a crooked light pole
Long lost friends and a cousin swooped in
To give a ride to the man with the chaos grin
The bar was packed and it didn't take long
to spend more than planned on booze and a song.
The next day was the wedding round about five
three hundred miles, step two was the drive.
Beaumont to Austin and Austin to Kyle,
still a deal must be struck
and it might take a while.
The wrecked white whale's
with some relatives near,
who will hand over keys and a title that's clear.
No later than usual the whale hit the sea
The fluids were low and sluggish as he
who hungover sat at the helm greasy haired
For a trip gone bad he always prepared.
Never bored could a ball of pure chaos be,
Meanwhile in Kyle the bride laughed with glee.
The whale guzzled gas like a famished mule
and scarce were the funds
that could pay for the fuel
but he kept on pushin' it through the sun
as the sky shined down on the son of a gun
who, living in whirlpools shrugs off trouble
like an enlightened baby that tears through the bubble.
The hill country rose into view like a play
behind curtains
slowly lifted
on the finest of days.
The radio lilted an old country song
as he thought of a girl that he loved for so long.
The hills have been calling
and soon he'll redeem
his ticket to dance and swim in the stream.
Entering Austin, he broke from his dream.
No way to make it in time so it seemed.
Friends will be mad.
Put blame on the whale
who was thirsty for more
and was running like hell.
Who was beat up and wrecked,
a relatives deception.
He missed the ceremony
but made the reception.
They danced and they sang and they drank til they dropped
They talked and they toasted and ate til they popped.
The choas ball bounced round like a champ
and lit up the party like a little lava lamp.
Later that night on a nicotine mission
a friends car broke down because he was with 'em.
So they slept in San Marcos in a church parking lot
three people in a Jetta twisted up like a knot.
Missed all the late night sing along songs
but ate a great breakfast in the square after dawn.
Stood on the edge of a clear rushing stream
and missed what it is that cannot be seen.
They finally returned, not one guest in sight.
They'd slept off their buzz and left overnight.
The white whale waited in the empty lot.
It's battery dead and transmission shot.
Gotta quick jump from Grounds Keeper Pete
and lurched back to Austin with broken feet.
Put Jeff on a bus and Renee stayed behind
to stick with the Jetta. Mechanic to find.
He dropped Jeff off not long before
the whale laid down in front of a store.
God, why hast thou forsaken me?
He grumbled to the sky
as he slapped his knee.
Expect nothing less Mr. Chaos Man
so he rolled with the punch
and he hatched a plan.
Sell the gnarly beast for your ticket home.
Flip it like a house and your free to roam.
But the market was slow, nobody was buying.
Running out of plans and he's tired of trying.
He's gotta make it back down to New Orleans
where there's tons of tasks
for a Chaos Machine
So he crawled underneath the two ton beast
and found the thorns stuck deep in its feet.
Two days later and burning the road
The whale exhaled and propelled its load.
But the load was just a bit lighter it seemed
and the whale felt the difference
and the sun still beamed.
The vortex of chaos behind the wheel
had sacrificed his baby, his wood and steel.
In Austin, the pawn shop door slammed closed
as his twelve string guitar lie in repose.
The End. For now.
