My Goodreads Author Page for Goodreads Users

After a couple of days of miscues on my part thanks to my unfamiliarity with the book reader site Goodreads, a Goodreads helper did the ‘heavy lifting’ and turned my user page into an author page, here.

From that page one can order The Prodigal Band Trilogy from Amazon or other books sellers such as B&N, Lulu, iBookstore, WalMart (Kobo), Google Play, Smashwords and others. Both soft cover and e-book versions are available.

I also added the correct cover for Battle of the Band and also added The Prophesied Band to the book list. Thanks to whoever added Battle of the Band in the first place…I only edited the cover. And I have no idea if Amazon or anyone else is selling either one. As far as I know, one has to order either of these two books from the OmegaBooks Bookstore.

Will continue the ‘snippet’ series the middle of next week. Cheers!

The Prodigal Band Trilogy is Now Available for Purchase on Amazon

Just found out last night while posting my e-book and print book versions of The Prodigal Band Trilogy on Goodreads that both versions are available for purchase on Amazon!

I will also be posting this link in the bookstore. That means if you have a Kindle device you no longer have to worry about conversion from EPub to MOBI, and if your Kindle version is outdated to do this. One can also buy the e-book and download it to your Kindle Cloud (which is what I did…yes I purchased my own e-book just to see if this worked, and it did!)

The e-book is $8.99 while the print book is $37.95 (but I am purchasing copies at a deep discount from Lulu to sell on my own here and in my area, but shipping will be a bit more since the book is almost 700 pages!)

I went with Lulu for global distribution, and Lulu has delivered! Thanks!

About that Timeless Void in The Prodigal Band Trilogy: The Mathematical Basis that God Exists Outside of Time

Remember that Comedy snippet I posted a couple of weeks ago where the band members are in a timeless void ‘expecting’ some message about a ‘mission of God’? Here I provide the mathematical basis for the likelihood of such a timeless void existing. This was originally posted years ago on a Christian blog I had on Blogger.

Note: I was a high school math teacher in the late 1980s through the mid-90s.


I thank God He made me at least to partially understand some of the laws of higher mathematics and some of its constructs. Revelations! One is the construct of infinity. Infinity is a construct–that is, something derived by man to explain things man can’t explain otherwise because in reality they don’t exist apart from man’s so-called understanding. Infinity relates to the topic of Bible study because probably 99.999% of Bible-believing Christians believe in eternity, which is the analogous time-element to infinity, the mathematical construct which in higher math is the equivalent to division by zero or the tangent of a 90 degree angle (where tangent of an angle = opposite/adjacent in a right triangle…remember high school trigonometry?). Thus, eternity is like infinity, which is division by zero. Remember high school algebra? Division by zero is “undefined”; for instance, 0/3 = 0 because 3 x 0 = 0. In fact, any number x 0 = 0.But what is 3/0? Since no number times 0 yields 3, then simply put, you can’t divide by zero. And anyway, who ever heard of dividing by “nothing” (which is what the number zero, invented as a place holder, really is…nothing!)?

Now, as to the tangent of a 90 degree angle being “infinity” (which is enumerated by the sideways 8), this can be shown on a piece of graph paper using some very simple calculus, using what is called “limits”. Remember that the “x axis” on a graph is the horizontal line going across and the “y axis” is the vertical line up and down. Suppose you are graphing a point with a positive magnitude (upward side of a “right triangle”) of 6 and a positive direction (horizontal distance of a “right triangle”) of 3. So what is the angle that is made by these line 6 up and 3 to the right? The opposite side is 6 and the adjacent side is 3. Since tangent of an angle is opposite/adjacent, the tangent is 6/3 = 2. Now take out your “values of trigonometric functions” if you have one, and look under the “tan” column for tangent, and find what angle corresponds to “tan = 2” and you approximate an angle of about 63.5 degrees. Okay, now let us decrease the value of the x-direction to 1. Then you get tangent of the angle = 6/1 = 6. Looking up an angle whose tan = 6 we get to 80.6 degrees. Now let us cut the x-direction into half so that we are now dividing 6 by 1/2. We now get 12, because 6 divided by 1/2 is really 6 x 2 (remember when you divide by a fraction you “flip over” the fraction and multiply?). Since the tangent is now 12, the angle is now 85.3.

You get the picture yet? As the distance in the x-direction gets closer and closer to 0, with the magnitude in the y-direction remaining 6 (or any number), the angle increases along with the tangent of that angle. What if the angle was 89.9 degrees? The tangent is then measured to be 572.9571! What if the angle was 89.999? The tangent would be 572,957.7951! What if the angle was 89.9999999? The tangent would be 572 million, 957 thousand, 795.1! What if the angle is 89.99999999999? Well, my calculator doesn’t go that high in digits! But if it did, the tangent would probably be 5.729571 times 10 to the 150th power or something! You know, a very large number! Larger than a google!

A google is another construct because we never see or experience a number this large in reality with our naked eyes…1 x 10 to the 100th power! This is a 1 followed by 100 zeroes! To make matters ever crazier, mathematicians devised the “googleplex” to denote 1 x 10 to a google of zeroes! That is, the number “googleplex” is so large that to write such a number it wouldn’t even fit into the known universe!!!  (So sayeth Carl Sagan, who wouldn’t believe in God if God hit over the head with it!)

Okay, the calculus: As “x”, that is, the adjacent side of this right triangle, gets smaller and smaller, as “x approaches 0” defined mathematically, the tangent of an angle formed gets larger and larger until, given enough “9s” after the 89.9, the tangent approaches “infinity” so that the tangent of a 90 degree angle, where x = 0, is “defined” as “infinity” which is NOT A NUMBER OR QUANTITY, but simply man’s “enumeration” of something impossible. Something that “does not exist.” In short, “infinity does not compute”!

Take the construct out of the field of mathematics and put it into the dimension of time and you go from infinity to eternity. Now factor in the concept that God is “the beginning” or “alpha” and “the end” or “omega” and that He “always was, is, and always will be”. Everything God created including time (interestingly enough, since God created time, then time came AFTER God, then God must have existed BEFORE time, thus God stands outside of the dimension of time!) is constrained by some limit which, to human understanding–including writers of the Bible–must mean everything God created is constrained by a limit in time, but not God Himself! Since “eternity” also stands outside of time (just as “infinity” stands outside numeration and quantity), ONLY GOD IS ETERNAL because “eternity” in human understanding means “timeless”! Since God also created “hell/hades/sheol/lake of fire”, then all of these definitions used by Christianity for pain, torment, death etc., must stand within some boundary of time and thus ARE NOT ETERNAL! ONLY GOD IS ETERNAL!

 

Keep this in mind, from the Bible 1 Timothy 2:4, that God “will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth” which implies that the ‘eternity’ we think it is may not be the eternity that God knows it is.

Next up in the snippet series–Fantasy.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Drama

Throughout the three novels that make up The Prodigal Band Trilogy, drama is everywhere, between the six band members, between their women, and especially between a band member and his woman–with double the drama when the two are a married couple. The snippets in this post concern bass player Keith and his wife, Jarris, whom had married prior to Keith rejoining the band Sound Unltd on the cusp of their huge success.

The first snippet from Chapter 5 of Battle of the Band (all the snippets here are from this first novel in the trilogy) occurs at a bash to celebrate the ending of Sound Unltd’s banishment from their home country, the UK (if you want to find out why they were banned, buy the book!) In the midst of the party at their manager’s estate in the southeast of England, Keith sees an up-and-coming pop singer he would like to get to know for various reasons. Her name is Lisa Brent, and she is conversing with another rock singer when the bassist sees her. At some point months later, Keith’s wife Jarris notices the relationship but appears to blow it off.


February 23, 1991

 

Of all the parties celebrating the ban’s end, Joe’s Torquay Hall jamboree with over four-hundred notables beat them all. Among those making themselves known to the society and gossip press was the manager’s latest sensation, Lisa Brent, formerly a southeast cabaret singer who loved to be surrounded by gaping fans.

Keith Mullock, his leather-clad, gold-chained body parked on a velvet futon and silk pillows, now tired of the mundane questions offered by two of his London groupies. His mind wandered to the view of the sexy white-blonde diva conversing with Peter Slade.

Isn’t that Lisa Brent? She’s just starting to hit the big leagues, and she’s still looking for a new songwriter. Maybe I could just—yeh, I’d love to have someone to write songs for. What a splendid babe she is. Yeh, I’d like to—need to see her right now. If I can get her away from that bloody Slade.

He turned to his groupies. “Look, babes, I got to take care of a business proposition. Would you excuse me?”

Lisa and Slade, a twenty-three-year-old screaming rock singer with very long straight brown hair marked by a streak of blond hair cascading down his left shoulder, spoke over by the smoking room mantle.

“I heard you were forming a group with Bruce Letham,” Lisa said. “Can you handle his ego?”

Slade snorted with a laugh. “Do you know that everyone who brings that up always asks me if I can handle ol’ Brucey? That’s not the point, dear girl. The point is, can Brucey handle my ego? Shit, babe, I’m not forming Hot Bandits with him just so I can watch him grab star billing.”

“But, sweet Pete, do you really get along with him? I mean, nobody really gets along with Brucey!”

The young man from lower aristocracy couldn’t handle any woman believing he was in any way inadequate. “Well, I don’t let his jealous streaks and his obsession with riches get to me. Actually, we’re quite together now, eh?” Slade took a goblet off the wine tray. “Cheers, eh? Actually, the only problem is bass. Rob Falcone won’t leave John Mocke.”

“Of course not. They’re only best lovers.” Lisa turned away from Slade just in time to notice Keith walking toward them. “Speaking of bass players—”

Peter then turned at her cue. “Well, Keith ol’ boy, how’s the night treating you?”

With smiling black eyes for Lisa, the bassist told Slade, “The night’s not doing anything for me, eh? It’s the highs and the babes that are. You dig?”

Keith needed to get rid of Slade fast. He asked Lisa straight out, “Are you still looking for a songwriter?” Oops! I forgot to introduce myself.

“Yes, I am.” Teasing smile.

“I’m sorry, love. I neglected to introduce myself. I’ve been hanging around low-life rock musicians most of my life. I’m—”

“Keith Mullock. Of course I know you. You don’t have to introduce yourself to me, sweet love.” Her eyes glowed with fresh opportunity. “And I’m—”

“Lisa Brent. The loveliest new singing sensation around. I wondered about you when I was stuck Stateside, wanting to meet you. I’m so glad you came.”

They said Keith Mullock was a devilish rogue. But he’s also quite gallant! Totally handsome with his Adonis curls and those scars and sideburns. Soooo scrumptious. Only one thing wrong with him. He’s married. Yet maybe, just maybe— “Thank you for being sooo sweet, Keith. But listen,” Lisa said with a honeyed voice as she ignored Slade, “we need to talk business. I need a good bass player—”

“And you also need a songwriter—”

“Indeed, yes. The one I have now is—well, he just doesn’t understand my style. He won’t do bold and bruising. Just sweet and light. I need someone like—”

“Me?” Keith put his right arm around her waist and turned her toward the room’s exit. “Am I the man you need, babe? ‘Cos if I am, I will take care of you. That’s my new mission in life. Taking care of my women the way I would have them take care o’ me, eh?” He kissed her cheek. “So, babe, how can I take care of you?”

“Be my new songwriter. And be with me tonight.” She turned to his face and engorged his full lips. And my mission in life is to snare you, Keith Mullock, married or not!

 

And into a steamy summer, 1991

 

Tattle Tales “Exclusive! Keith Mullock Smooches Lisa Brent While Performing At a Theatre Homeless Benefit:  While singing her latest hit, ‘Make Me Yours,’ Lisa sauntered over to Keith playing as her bassist and patted him on his rear. They blew each other kisses, assuming no one else—especially Mullock’s wife Jarris—would notice.”

Jarris saw the pat and the kisses—or thought she did.

In the second snippet at another party given for the band while on tour of the US in the fictitious Bay Area city of Richmont, Keith and Lisa are again together but this time conspiring to undo his marriage. This is from Chapter 6.


However, as the bash reached full swing, the bassist stood with Lisa at the foot of the stairway leading to the guest rooms. She wore silver lace panties and halter top while Mullock wore his usual black leather trousers and assorted chains.

Lisa teased him. “Will you be spending time with me tonight, or do you have other plans?”

He answered with a rogue’s smile. “Will you spend time with me now? This party’s a bit of a bore, eh?”

Keith then looked around. Man, there hasn’t been a bash arranged for us on this whole bloody tour that can compare to what we could do for ourselves. And where the hell is that skuz tray? To Lisa he said, “So, what you need, babe?” Lowered her halter top and plucked on her exposed nipple.

“I want you for longer than just now.”

But he didn’t hear her as he saw a ghoulishly dressed waiter approach with the tray. “Is that skuz?”

“Yes, sir.”

Keith took a pinch in his left index finger and thumb and sniffed. Instant ego trip.

“I’m a married man. It’s gonna have to be now.” He butted his forehead against hers. “I live for now, sweet love, and what I want now is a damned good lay.” Laughing with abandon, his black eyes glowed. “You’re me lover, not me wife.”

“I don’t mean to be your wife. I mean your woman. And I want you for my co-star.”

“Co-star?” He laughed with sarcasm. “You want me to leave Sound Unltd? The world’s top band? To play second-fiddle to you?”

“No, Keith. Not second fiddle. We’ll be like Andre’ and Cheetah. We’ll be superstars together. That way, you can get out of your marriage. Isn’t that what you want?” Lisa snuggled up to him, rubbing her clothed ladyhood on his thrust thigh while he squeezed her rear.

“You know,” he said with a snort, “I’ve been thinking about getting a divorce as soon as I get back home.” He looked up and around the mock-horror expanse. “I got too much going on to be married. Should never have done it.”

“Won’t a divorce violate your Code?”

The skuz tray came by again. Keith took another pinch.

“No,” he said with a sneer. “I don’t really follow it anymore. Besides, the Code says a woman must be faithful, not the man. I haven’t been faithful in years, babe, and neither has she, eh?” He turned to her disgustedly as he remembered another excuse to leave his wife—Brent, whom Jarris just gave birth to. “Now I have a baby son I’ve barely seen, and, shit girl, I really couldn’t care less about.” Me? A father? For two weeks here, two weeks there? What the hell kinda father is that? Why’d you do that to me, Jarris? To keep me married to you? Really screwed me over, didn’t you, wife o’ mine?

They walked up the winding stairs, arms around each other in bliss.

“You’ll live with me, then?” she asked.

“Lis, I’ll buy us an eleventh century stone castle on the Isle. But I’m not leaving Sound Unltd. They’re me brothers, girl.”

Later that evening, Keith has a relationship with a groupie, and, when Lisa sees the two together outside by the pool looking out the bedroom window on an upper floor of the party estate, she fumes and conspires to get revenge on Keith. In the third snippet from Chapter 7, she plots with that other rock singer her ‘revenge’ while at a night club. But her plan was just a ruse. And when Keith’s wife Jarris finds out from a tabloid that her marriage really appears to be on the rocks, she nearly loses it! When Keith returns from tour, Jarris’ lawyer hands him divorce papers.


Swami Negran, two hours late for the start of the circus at Forkyz, had to fight through hundreds of stargazers milling outside the club. Then he had to push and shove his way through a host of silky-tanned bodies raising their fists or jutting their hips to the tom-tom honky-tonk beat of Uh-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Until he made it to the northwest corner. He was almost accosted by a bikini-briefed Lisa Brent and a Peter Slade in nothing but spandex shorts and Denny Spradlin’s mojo-sandals as they tried to move Keith’s skuz-wasted, pulsating body which grasped his bass in his left hand and Lolita’s bra in his right.

While the lame bassist howled and laughed through Slade’s and Negran’s attempts to prop him against the wall, Swami shouted, “This is even worse than fighting my way in here. There’s a couple o’ thousand people outside clawing to get in!”

Keith slurred loudly. “Well why the hell don’t we bloody let ‘em in? There’s room for—” Down onto the floor he fell in a heap. “Ah, shit! Get me the hell up, eh Mystic Man?”

Lisa, still acting disgusted from Keith’s perfidy the night before, snickered. “Just leave him there!” She then turned to her back-up lover, Slade. “Sweet Pete, listen to this, babe. I got a plan that’ll get us mucho headlines. Help bolster your career, eh?”

“And yours, Lisa love.”

“My career’s doing nicely, thank you!”

“So’s mine, thank you very much!”

“Oh, shut up, Pete, and listen. Both of us’ll go out there in front of the people out there—” Lisa turned to Swami. “Did you see any paparazzi out there?”

“Dozens of photographers, and some with camcorders.”

“Super! Okay, Pete, we’ll go out there and I’ll do my little act. You know, yell and scream about how Keith has betrayed me? And you escort me in your limo to the airport. I need to go on to Phoenix anyway to see my agent there about next year’s tour. I’ll meet you again when the Party Machine lands in Phoenix. Then, I’ll finish the little bastard off! How’s that sound, Pete?”

Slade answered noncommittally, “Sure, babe.”

Lisa then looked down on Keith. “Is that okay with you, you little shit?”

The bombed bassist mumbled his assent, knowing full well that the night before, he and his prime lover planned to greet each other with lavish affection aboard the jet—in full view of perplexed reporters.

Just as most of the horde of stargazers thought they’d leave the sidewalk in front of Forkyz and go home, just as reporters decided to call it a night, an enraged Lisa Brent blew out the front doors of the night club, escorted by a confused-looking Peter Slade. Seeing the mass of reporters hovering in front of Slade’s limo, she saw her chance. “Now listen to this, press boys!” she yelled for their benefit. “You can forget that goddamned Keith Mullock! We’re finished! You understand that? And you can quote me!” She stomped into the car.

Some scribes held Slade back.

“She’s just upset, eh?” he told them. “I’m just here to help her get over it.”

“What happened, Mr. Slade?”

“Listen, I can’t get into that here.”

Slade shut the door on the reporters and the limo beat a hasty retreat to the airport, where Lisa caught a plane to Phoenix, Sound Unltd’s next stop.

 

One week later at Cedar Woods

 

“Though Lisa Brent made her wounded feelings loud and clear in front of her fans at Forkyz, her rendezvous the following weekend, when she jumped into Mullock’s arms upon entering the Party Machine at the Phoenix Airport, caused tour reporters to believe a publicity stunt was at hand. But one thing’s for sure—Keith and Lisa are alive and well.”

 

Jarris read the Tattle Tales item in her parlor and blew up. First she trashed the tabloid, then the parlor.

The breaking of bone china brought her maid onto the scene. “My God! What happened, miss?”

Jarris plopped into her seat, exhausted, and broke into sobs. “I can’t take it anymore!”

“I’ll get you something—”

“No.” The redhead poked her tearful face out from her hands. “I need to be alone. I’m going up to my room.”

Once there, Jarris popped six valiums at one time.

Her maid found her lying on the floor semiconscious an hour later.

A ‘close confidant’ notified Tattle Tales of the incident, and, after her recovery, Jarris told the tabloid editor over the phone from her room, “I know it was stupid of me to do that, but I felt barraged with items of his cheating on me. I just overreacted.” Later, she told the editor, “I am considering divorce. It’s obvious our marriage hampers his bloody lifestyle, and it’s not doing me much good, either.”

Fully better and more mentally resolute for a pre-divorce battle, Jarris took her infant son Brent and moved back to her mother’s comfortable Parkside flat in Walltown.

In the next snippet Jarris, back home with her mother and sister along with her baby son, finds out that her abusive father, Gus, in prison for assault on her mother several years before, is getting released for ‘good behavior.’ Jarris remembered Keith’s promise to protect her from her brute dad if Gus ever tried to come after her again, and knew that he would come to harm her upon release from jail. But he would not protect her if the divorce went through, so he and she and the lawyers got together to try to work out some agreement.


The editors of Tattle Tales didn’t miss a beat with their World Beater Exclusive: ‘It’s True! Jarris to Divorce Keith over Love of Lisa.’ The story contained a lurid account of ‘rendezvous’ at the Isle castle called Dragonhead, once owned by a man “known as the ‘Warlock of Isle,’ who used to de-vein girls” after love making. Inside sources reported Keith and Lisa “participated in pagan love-spirit-rites” before pleasure “using candles at pentagram points and chanting pagan love-psalters, which is no surprise considering the alleged before-sex rituals of Mullock’s band mates.” A confident of Miss Brent was quoted saying, “Miss Brent and Mr. Mullock will come out of seclusion as soon as they are notified by Mrs. Mullock’s attorney of the proceedings.”

Jarris threw the open tabloid face-down on her mother’s parlor table so that Lisa’s face landed in Jarris’ coffee. “That son-of-a-bitch! Does his father know what Keith’s doing?”

Her mother, living in style now in Parkside but still wizened from past years trapped in poverty and fear of husband, said doubtfully, “And what of it? Keith’s dad was a bit of a ladies man in his day. Never mind what he says about The Code.”

“Like father, like son,” her sister Jesse said, scarfing a pastry. “You don’t have to worry what Sean Mullock says. Take my word, he doesn’t like what Keith’s up to, but he’s not about to argue with his bread and butter. You need to worry about if Gus Melby knows about it.”

Anxious at the mention of her brute father’s name, Jarris stared hard at Jesse. “Don’t you ever mention him to me again!”

“Oh, begod!” Mother anguished. “Begod, Jarris, I forgot— No, I kept this from you because this news will terrify you!”

“What news?” Jarris gripped her chair.

“We heard a month ago. The prison warden told us Gus would be released on parole in a couple of months. Good behavior.”

Jarris trembled. “And when he gets out, he’s coming straight for me, isn’t he?”

“He’s coming for all of us.” Mother got out of her chair and placed her left hand on Jarris’ shoulder. “And now that we’re all here, he can get three birds with one carving knife.”

 

Gus Melby—forty-three, bald with head tattoos and scars on both wrists from his wife’s knife swings in a dark kitchen after he broke her chin with his pounding fists three years ago—read the divorce story in his cell and wickedly smiled. “Well now, lass of mine, you won’t have your Prince Charming t’ save you now, eh?”

 

“But he’s mainly coming for you, girl,” mother said. “He has a score to settle wi’ you over your wedding he wasn’t invited to. And now’s the perfect time. He’d never think to go after you if Keith was still with you.”

Jesse sat up. “Aye! That’s it! Keith promised by The Code to protect you, eh? With dad coming after you—”

“No, Jess! Nothing will stop me from leaving that son-of-a-bitch! I can hire body-guards—” Not that I want body-guards. Keith promised me, and I want him to protect me! “—because even if that lout was still with me, he’d be so skuzzed up, he’d never know dad was taking an axe to me head. I don’t need him!”

 

“Jarris wants to make these proceedings very, very simple, and very, very to the point, Mr. Mullock—”

“Yes, simple,” said Brooks. “Simply highway robbery!”

“Mrs. Mullock has been caused tremendous anguish. Her valium overdose and all.”

“My client isn’t quite convinced that episode wasn’t just good acting. After all, Mrs. Mullock was in a movie—”

Jarris lunged for Keith, who slouched in a leather chair across from her at her lawyer’s mahogany desk. “You son-of—”

“Please!” Her lawyer barred her with his right arm. “Jarris, this will only—”

“I nearly killed myself over you, Keith Mullock!”

“Sure, babe, if you say so.” Keith laughed to himself.

“In any case,” her lawyer continued, “these are her terms. Twenty percent of Mr. Mullock’s annual income—”

“No way, man! I work too bloody hard for my money,” he looked at Jarris, “just to hand one-fifth of it to you, woman!” He turned to Brooks. “About how much are we talking about, eh?”

Brooks leaned to Keith and whispered, “According to your accountant, you should gross about twenty million pounds this year. In other words, about four mil this year.”

“Yeh, yeh,” Keith sighed. “And which estate, eh? I ain’t giving her Cedar Woods. Me studio’s there. She can have any other place.” Snickered at Jarris. “Is that good enough for you?”

“No,” she sneered back. “I also want your London townhouse. I need a place close to my cosmetics company. And two mil a year child support. It’s the least you could do for a son you never see, eh Keith Mullock? It’s the least you can do to win your freedom from married bondage so you can keep seeing those silly groupies. Besides, you’d only waste it on your skuz habit!”

“This is not an atmosphere conducive to negotiations,” her lawyer argued. “And—should I tell him, Jarris?”

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping this news from him,” she sneered. “Might make him feel guilty enough to sign the agreements. Or stop his gallivanting and come back to me.”

Her lawyer’s eyes bored into Keith’s. “You might be interested to know Gus Melby gets out of prison next month on parole and will likely come looking for your wife. Remember your Code promise protect her? If you divorce, you won’t be able to keep your promise, if that means much to you.”

Though the bassist had given up The Code for all practical purposes, his anxiety over a promise to protect a woman for whom he still felt love sent a wave of goose flesh down his sweaty spine. Keith bowed his thoughtful head. I can’t go through with this divorce now. I’m stuck! Stuck as if I’d stayed a riveter in Walltown. I want to be free of all obligations. Promises! Code! I’ll never be free of it!

Forced to reconsider, he spoke with a quivering sigh. “Ummm, look babe. A promise is a promise, eh?” Nervously toe-tapping the floor, he leaned to Brooks and asked, “Can we go with a waiting period?”

Her lawyer stood firm. “We’ll want some kind of restraining order.”

“No, wait,” Jarris said, upbeat. “I want him around when my father comes.”  Her eyes set to lay a guilt trip on him. “Will you be with me, Keith, and keep your promise?”

Humble, he slowly lifted his head with the relief of a headmaster’s pardon. “Yeh, babe, I will.” Weak was his smile. “I promise, eh?”

“And you won’t be skuzzed up when he comes?”

Keith, reminded he was overdue for his next hit, nodded with jitters. “Promise.”

As they got out of their chairs, Keith felt the awkward weight of two heavy crosses on his back, craving the skuz to throw off his burdens.

The final snippet has the brute father Gus invade Keith’s and Jarris’ fancy estate. A character that would become important later in the trilogy, Keith’s butler Rodgers, is introduced.


The Ides of March, 1994

 

Early March came in like a lion in the Cedar Woods area. A revenging angel named Gus Melby knew he needed to take advantage of stormy weather to sneak into the twenty-four room Victorian mansion where Jarris would be alone when the ‘missing’ bassist was out working, or, as Melby still believed, out ‘working’ with Lisa Brent.

Not even the fortress-like atmosphere Keith’s money bought, complete with a round-the-clock company of security guards, stopped Melby from breaking into the pantry via the garage on the night of March 14, less than a week before Mullock’s departure for North America.

At half-past nine the next morning, Melby knelt behind an opened opaque black lace-patterned drape in the morning room as Jarris and unknown voices intruded upon him. Probably servants. And no Mullock.

At half-past nine, Keith was still asleep.

Outside the house, a tall, brawny figure approached the morning room window from the east, front, wall, a pistol at his hip.

Rogers, the butler, entered with the morning mail. He placed a tray with two personal letters next to Jarris’ cup and poured her more coffee. Then the butler looked between the curtains and saw the guard walking toward the window. When he thought he saw the curtain move, he raised his eyebrows. “It’s not a terribly bad day, is it, miss?”

“Yeh.” Jarris didn’t turn around.

“So much milder than it has been. I see some trees getting their leaves, miss.”

Still she didn’t turn around. “Yeh.” She opened a letter.

The alerted butler definitely saw something move behind the curtain and began to move with open arms between her and the window.

The guard’s heavy footfall outside startled Melby. Who turned around. The pistol was drawn on him. Nowhere else to go. Melby stood up from behind the drapes into the awaiting arms of Rogers.

The guard then fired at Melby’s upper torso.

Crack!

Jarris, startled—screaming—shot out of her chair and stood terrified facing a madman struggling to grab her.

The guard fired again, this time at Melby’s head, and missed.

Keith woke with the first shot, flew out of the bedroom in cotton shorts, rode the stairway railing down with the second shot and intercepted another guard rushing into the hallway leading to the parlor. First the bassist and then the other guard zoomed into the room.

While Keith grabbed Jarris and flung her to the floor leaving Melby wide open, the second guard blew away the assailant’s chest.

Jarris, her head hidden under Keith’s protective body, heard the body of her father thud on the carpet. She asked her man with a frightened voice, “Is he dead?”

Tender sweet whispers expressed Mullock’s relief, his thanks, and his renewal of breathtaking love for a woman he’d wronged. “Yes, he is, love. And you’re safe forever and always. Thank God you safe. And you always will be, my love. I’ll never leave you again.” He caressed her life.

Yet, after tender minutes, he stared into space. But what of my childhood vow to kill him?

Talk about drama!

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Conspiracy? Talk About Evil Characters!

A great big oooops! here. The Prodigal Band Trilogy has lots of evil or bad guy characters, but I never listed them in the original post about evil characters! In going through past posts I realized I never posted this list of evil characters! Sorry about that! So here goes…

In a previous post here that was posted last December,  I explained that since the overriding theme of my series is the battle of good vs. evil, there had to be an evil side as well as a good side, and that the evil side would seek to rule the world in order to set up for the Biblical ‘end times’ and the coming of ‘the anti-Christ’ to deceive the world and especially those who claim to believe in the coming Messiah. So that this evil could rule the world, the world must be united and in peace under a global system (called ‘the Beast system’). I have no specific idea exactly what this system will look like, but, as it is a system set up by the arch-deceiver (the ‘anti-Christ’), it will be a deceptive system that will deceive many and cause some believers in Christ to ‘fall away.’

Who will usher in this evil? The most likely group of people who will do this according to Satan’s agenda are the world’s elites, the powerful and wealthy, because they would be the obvious choice for such a task–they love money and power, for the most part, above all. Who else would Satan choose? Satan is the fallen angel who wants to be like God and actually be God (see Isaiah 14 and ‘the five I wills’)–in other words, Satan seeks power. And who has the most power on Earth? Those with the most money, and those who control the money, are the most likely people to be used by the evil to thwart the good. These are the owners of the private banking cartels as well as the world’s central banks; for instance, the Rothschild banking dynasty. Further, those with lots of power and money are much more likely to believe they are entitled to control everything, including popular culture. Popular culture is one way the evil side is able to ensnare the world’s youth. This is especially true in a world in which even the good side has been corrupted and confused and thus much less likely to ‘call the youth’ to Christ.

There are two aspects to this side, the spiritual and the physical or reality-based. Spiritual darkness and its human minions that do its bidding.

The spiritual darkness is led by a fictitious ‘Celtic god’ called Corion, the name of which is based on the configuration of the Dragon Constellation in which the Pleiades star system and Orion’s Belt (as part of the Orion system) are located; Orion is on the outskirts of the Dragon and looks as if it is ‘fighting’ the Dragon. The fictitious ‘Satan’ figure is named ‘Corion’ based on its connection to Orion. But here’s the thing–I did not know any of this when I ‘made up’ this character name! I truly believe God led me to call this evil by this name. Corion, who was cast into an Abyss by God after the fallen angel rebellion against God failed, is aided by three Demons:  Gold, Silver, and Bronze. To ‘see’ in this dark Abyss, Corion is given by God a ‘red crystal sight’ that is eventually stolen by the spirit of a dead High Priest of a fictitious Celtic cult in Wales that was conquered by the Romans around 50 AD. (Note: While Emperor Claudius did conquer Briton proper and the Celts there, I do not know how far this conquest covered Wales. The Emperor Hadrian had the famous Hadrian’s Wall built just north of the Tyne River many years later to keep out the unconquerable Scots (Picts))

The name of this High Priest is Crynnwagg (an actual Welsh name) and Crynnwagg’s cult is called the Crag-Dwellers (crags are rocks or rocky structures). The famous Druids of Wales (the supposedly Satan figure here is Samhain, a leading figure in the Hallowe’en rituals and is of Druid origin) are enemies of the Crag-Dwellers, who eat captured Druids and drink the Druid blood, thus are cannibals. After Crynnwagg steals the red crystal from Corion within the netherworld, Crynnwagg returns to life using the power of the crystal and whose spirit keeps on inhabiting different people through history for well over 800 years. Two prominent characters the evil spirit of Crynnwagg takes over through the power of the crystal are Swami Negran from India, and Cole Blessing, an American healer. Note that I chose a man from India for this since New Age cult leaders of the past have come from India. It is Negran and Blessing that ensnare my fictitious rock band Sound Unltd into doing their dirty work on the youth, in return for fame and fortune and all the trappings thereof.

There are five prominent human men who serve the spiritual darkness, and, just as the globalist ‘new world order’ being ushered in today is led by various supposedly ‘secret’ societies such as the Bilderbergers and others, my fictitious globalist secret society is called the ‘Novordo Club’ (Novordo stems for the ‘Novus Ordo Seclorum’ theme on the dollar bills and means ‘New World Order’ or “New Order of the Ages.’), as well as the fictitious UN body called the ‘World Youth Cultural Council’ which seeks youth culture conformity and a supporting NGO foundation called the ‘World Community Artists Foundation’ comprising youth culture celebrities who support globalism. Then there is the spiritual arm of this grouping called the Hellians (prominent in The Prodigal Band) and its subgroups, two of which are called ‘the Slake of Satan’ and ‘the Inner Sanctum.’

While various groupies and even fellow rockers are in these groups, the five prominent men that ‘rule the world to Corion’s specification’s are as follows:

Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau: No disrespect for the English town of Torquay and the residents of today’s French province of Normandy where (from my research) the name ‘Lambourgeau’ is fairly prominent. This character heads the evil secret society the Novordo Club as well as the Hellians, is the son of a blood-drinking Vlad-the-Impaler-Count-Dracula-type Satanist, and whose son, who has disavowed evil, is the manager of the fictitious band Sound Unltd. He has a direct line to the evil god Corion and is one of the chief minions. He is also a banking cartel owner and somewhat based on the leaders of the Rothschild banking dynasty. Due to the conquest by William of Normandy in 1066 of England, I thought it was only proper to make this character of Norman descent.

Marty, the Duke of Effingchester: This fifteenth Duke of Effingchester is a direct descendant of the evil Duke who, in 1136 AD, called on Corion to send Demons to burn his city to the ground in order to put down a peasant revolt. In the 1100s through the 1300s, England had many peasant revolts as serfdom was heading by the wayside to be replaced by farmers called ‘yeomen.’ In return for the Demons putting down the rebellion, this Duke was forced to give a blood oath to the god of evil while being forced to keep the defeated serfs ‘forever in debt.’ Finally, the name ‘Effingchester’ is indeed based on a certain cuss word!

Paul Xavier, Mr. X: ‘X’ is a music and media mogul who owns Time Communications, one of the world’s largest media conglomerates (it is not co-incidence that the name ‘Time’ is used. Not insulting Time Magazine, however, even if it is one of the more well-known mainstream media organs.) ‘X’ is a top member of the Novordo Club and Hellians.

Haikaru Yakimoro, Mr. Y: ‘Y’ is Japanese, and, because Japan is Asia’s most westernized nation and a tech giant of sorts (Samsung, Toshiba, and connected to SONY–a record label that has under its belt some of Asia’s best known rock bands such as the Gazette and others), I decided to make this character Japanese.

Rodney Davis: It is fairly well known that touring rock bands, using their roadies, “muled” drugs while on tours for organized crime, Mafia-like drug bosses, and the like in the 60s and 70s. At a Led Zeppelin gig at Madison Square Garden in NYC in 1971, I remember seeing roadies and others selling marijuana and cocaine and perhaps other drugs to gig audience ticket holders before the concert began, and someone in one of the mezzanines we were in tried to sell us illegal drugs. (Not picking on Led Zep here, but this really happened!) Rodney Davis was an American who worked for a Mafia drug lord who forced my band to “mule” drugs in order that they would “secure” their success. The movie “Roadies” starring rocker Meatloaf as well as Blondie and others, also goes into this issue of mule-ing drugs.

Finally, Corion uses three humans as direct conduits for evil purposes:

Swami Rashnish Negran: Negran is from India and is reminiscent of a certain cult leader who had some influence with certain 60s rock bands. Negran dupes my fictitious band Sound Unltd into his “Church of the Circle of Unity” cult. In fact many celebrities are members of New Age and other “religious” cults but have royalty-type status, thus treated ‘like gods’ unlike lesser members (such as a former friend of mine) who were treated like garbage and are forced to work for long hours for virtually no pay! Corion uses Negran as his main conduit, using the stolen ‘red crystal sight’ mentioned earlier.

‘Doctor’ Cole Blessing: A phony healer, an American, who leads one of Negran’s ‘churches,’ cajoles the wife of a band member into become his disciple, and uses fakery to “cure” another band member’s wife of cancer. Eventually, Blessing takes over the cult. While Negran is integral in Battle of the Band, Blessing is the lead bad guy in The Prophesied Band.

Mark Besst: A Brit and a tech company mogul who eventually (in The Prodigal Band) takes Cole Blessing’s place and doesn’t need the red crystal because he is inhabited by the Corion spirit of evil–at his own request. I called him ‘Mark Besst’ because it resembles the Biblical notion of the ‘Mark of the Beast.’ As with the others Besst acquires the band’s friendship and confidence and eventually takes over not only the cult, but the conspiracy as well. Besst uses three minions, ‘Beast,’ ‘Trenchcoat,’ and a phony Christian preacher called Reverend Ike to do his dirty work.

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Conspiracy

When I began writing the trilogy in the early 1990s was when various news reports of “militia movements” and “far right” “patriot” groups began hitting the mainstream media, highlighted by the incident at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, and the take down of David Koresh’s Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas. Then, a year before I published Battle of the Band, the first book in the trilogy, the Oklahoma City bombing happened. All of these events saw standoffs of sorts between some so-called patriot group and the Federal government. These and other incidents led many to start spouting “conspiracy theories” about a “new world order” group some called “the Illuminati” as well as secret societies ruled over by “dark forces.” I am not posting this to claim if these theories are true or not–I will leave that up to the reader.

But these theories and elite groups mentioned in the trilogy provide the counterpoint to the “good” side that the fictional rock band called Sound Unltd eventually sides with, having seen the “evil” side. Further, there are groups of elites in think tanks and secret societies, some considered satanic, that actually exist. Some of these groups and secret societies are fairly well-known. Finally, it isn’t just worldwide governments, economies, media and entertainment that these elites rule over. One snippet concerns control of weather and physical structures.

The first snippet introduces the characters that make up the fictional rock band the novels are about and also introduces the primary antagonists that conspire to use the band for their evil purposes. As with ‘the powers-that-be’ that many now know belong to secret societies, the evil-doers, in one of their secret meetings, discuss why the band was chosen, and in the process introduce the band characters. The last part of this snippet is rated R and was not included in the previous citation. (Previously linked here) A similar dialogue between these conspirators later in the book introduces the point man of the conspiracy, called Swami Negran, a New Age guru cult leader of sorts.


A small group of exceedingly powerful men sat in red plush chairs surrounding a polished mahogany table. In front of each participant lay grey leather folios that displayed the gold-leaf embossed symbol of the Novordo Club—a pagan cross radiating from a sun-circle encasing an s-like snake. The Demons watched over the assembled luminaries.

“See these men of Our Lord Lucifer?” Silver Demon said. “Their agenda bears our Corionic Cross which The Creator banished from His realm. The red crystals around their necks prove their allegiance to us. Whoever wears or minds those crystals of Our Lord shall heed our cause to own this small planet.”

“Their governments are implementing our political, financial, and social programs targeted by Our Lord for placement. This group of leaders will discuss how they will control the culture of the young of this world.” Gold Demon then whispered as if the men below might hear them. “It is today they will choose our troubadours of the new generation. Of course, we will make sure they choose our boys of the spoken-pact two years ago.”

Some of the men left the oak-paneled room to attend other Novordo Club meetings involving environmental policy. Those involved in deciding who would lead the world’s youth remained. These included Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau, head of the world’s largest banking cartel; a forty-two-year-old record mogul; and two media kingpins, Mr. X and Mr. Y.

“Talent manager Joe Phillips, that is, my wayward son,” the Baron said, “has a five-man band of ill-repute that has the talent-skills, the charisma, and the desire to succeed where all others must fail. More than anything, my son says. More than anything will this group perform to impassion the youth into a frenzy of hero-worship.”

The record mogul asked, “Are you referring to Sound Unltd? They’re not exactly a hot act right now.”

“Who the hell cares?” Mr. X asked. “Isn’t it us who decide who will own popular entertainment? That they aren’t now the top band is all the more reason to go with them. They’re obscure enough so as no one will ever guess our motivation for picking them.”

“They truly have it all,” Mr. Y said. “Their singer-lyricist Erik is, pardon the expression, a godsend. Matchless voice, and even better, his naughty operatics and pyrotechnics on stage drive girls and boys into the lap of devilish fanaticism. He lived in great poverty after his hated father abandoned his family and later died. This one’s in it primarily for the money.

“Their guitarist-composer Jack is already of hero-quality with his screaming guitar style. He led a street gang and demands perfection and unity from the others. He’s in it for the glory. Coincidentally, my agents told me that the guitarist believes he made a pact with Our Lord Lucifer for success. Both the singer and guitarist are handsome rogues with model-gorgeous girlfriends, perfect for the idol image both of them must project.

“Mick, their current bassist, is skinny with a beak for a nose and a long, pretty face surrounded by dark-brown hair ringlets down his back. He was sexually abused by his mother and neglected by his father. He’s in it for the perversion. A cultist who wears our symbol of the old Celtic Crag-Dwellers of the Craggy Mountains of Wales.

“Bryan, their keyboard synthist, is a bulky biker with bushy red hair and associates with bikers. He made his girlfriend pregnant last year and felt obliged to marry her. Reggie Lewis, a top studio musician, is helping him build a keyboard-effects synthesizer. He’s in it for the ride.

“Their drummer Tom lives with clairvoyant Prissy Wyatt and pretends to channel the god Corion for amusement. His father is indentured to the Duke of Effingchester. The young curly blond doesn’t know this. He’s in it to find out.

“Later, a sixth member, a Warwicke’s Ship Works riveter named Keith will rejoin them on bass. A strict follower of the outdated Code. But his dad was a womanizer. Like father, like son. He’s in it for the women.

“When the sextet is formed, they will be unstoppable.”

“So,” the mogul said, “you’re saying Sound Unltd won’t have any trouble winning over multitudes of fans? They’re that good?”

“My son thinks they’ll have an impact greater than any band before them,” Baron Torquay-Lambourgeau said, “and my agents, who do disparage their obscene antics, by the way, agree with my son. They’re fit to rule youth culture in the nineties. Sound Unltd stands for money, glory, perversion, self-interest, sex. You know, naked power at any price. Other acts will compete with them, but it has been decided.”

“You have decided, Baron,” the record mogul said. “I’ve never seen their so-called raunchy antics. How do I know Sound Unltd can best harness the basest desires of the young?”

Mr. X placed a cassette on the table. “The best I can do right now is to show you this video of a live performance at XanadU.” X put the tape into the VCR. “Not another band in the world does the routines these boys dare to do, though many come close.”

Music of raw, slow, hot passion set even middle-aged hormones ablaze.

The record company man watched and listened in titillated awe.

The first scene showed Erik singing with his hands down his skin-tight leather trousers.

Rub me, suck me, tease me, (bleep)

Then, with his exposed hands about his genitals, he humped a mic stand while moaning in climax.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ooooh, baby, (bleep) me dry

In the next scene Mick and Jack, on either side of Erik, jabbed their guitar necks into the singer’s awaiting rear. Scene four showed Jack and Mick flicking their tongues together as their bodies rubbed. Finally, Erik and Bryan butted each other’s rear-ends together atop the synthesizer which quickly exploded into red flames.

“These boys’ll do anything to rouse a crowd, won’t they?”

“That’s the point,” the Baron said. “They’ll do anything. The guitarist, their band leader, will drive them to greatness. Kids today don’t buy a product strictly on industry hype. The younger generation will follow them precisely because they are great.” Baron Torquay sipped his water. “And so, are we agreed about Sound Unltd?”

Each nodded. Each red crystal glowed heart red.

Torquay adjourned the meeting. “Let us now end the discussion with a prayer to Our Lord Lucifer.” The rotund aristocrat began the affirmation. “We are ever in service to you, god of darkness born in light. Your realm of power and pleasure shall purchase all who bear your light-cross symbol.”

The second snippet, narrated by pop culture pundit Jay Elliot, concerns a freakish physical earth event and the weather that coincides with an archealogical dig in the Welsh mountains sponsored by band album producer and guitarist Mick, a fan of the occult and Druidic lore. This comes from Chapter Seven of The Prophesied Band. Elliot calls Mick to find out more about this incident, which both consider some kind of conspiratorial event.


Summer, 1998

 

Now the preachers were sure of it. Seven years of tribulation were upon us. Half-way through this period in which Apocalypse’s fabled four horsemen—war, famine, pestilence, and death—would ride roughshod over sinner and saint alike, the Anti-Christ would reveal himself. All but the most devout of God would fall under his evil spells.

Until finally the Messiah would come again to save the devout.

People were urged to buy video- or audio-taped ‘wills’ for those ‘left behind.’ Some new-agers prepared welcome sites in deserts for enlightened ‘visitors’ in ‘rainbow ships’ whom would allow them to reach their ‘tenth consciousness.’

And those who would wait out the tribulation until the Second Coming or go down fighting some nebulous ‘new order’ of ‘illuminated ones’ dug in with guns and butter. Membership in militias, according to various cable news networks, grew into the millions. Media darlings as well as media outcasts warned of states of emergency almost daily. Race riots spread from city to city.

I was driving home to my new place by the Pacific waters—a secluded home I bought in a high-rent area a couple of months ago to escape a Richmont nearing ravage—wanting to turn off the radio as Reverend Ike Lawson exhorted for the hundredth time that day that we should read our Bibles. But I’m glad I didn’t. Next on the radio was this amazing bit of news.

“Would you believe an earthquake in Wales?” folksy syndicated radio columnist Paul Harvard asked rhetorically. “It’s true, folks. A five-point-fiver hit today in the central Craggy Mountains of Wales not far from an archeological dig for the nineteen-hundred-and-fifty-year-old bones of Crynnwagg, one High Priest of the Druidic Crag-Dweller sect. Dig sponsor Mick Pordengreau had this to say, ‘We’d been having problems finding any evidence of his bones for months. But we knew he was buried in this area. I truly believe this earthquake is a sign that we’ll find them.’ Never mind that an entire village was levelled.”

Cute, Harvard, cute.

When I got home at seven that evening I couldn’t keep my hot little fingers from dialing Mick at Holyhope, a full nine hours of time ahead of me. I knew he hardly ever slept until just before daybreak.

“Is that earthquake for real, Mick?”

“Shit, Jay. Me phone’s been ringing off the hook for an hour. I just started to sleep, eh?” He sounded tired and irritated. “Yeh, it’s real. And it killed twelve people so far. I’ve gotten several calls from charities begging me to give ‘em a big load o’ bread for their earthquake funds. But I’ve already told the town leaders I’m donating whatever money they need. A lot of these folks helped out with the Crynnwagg dig, and with a couple o’ videos the band did earlier this year.”

“The two Crag-Dweller songs on Seccond Coming.”

“Yeh. These are good people here. You know they never hassled me about my lifestyle. We get along.”

Of course it’s not every day a remote Welsh village has a world-renowned musician-producer in their midst, even if a bit kinky. But his Crynnwagg dig very much put the town on the map, and money in their tiny gift shops.

“So,” I finally asked, “did the earthquake help you find the bones?”

“That they did. Or at least we’re speculating they’re his bones. Crynnwagg was known through legend to have had tibia bones much longer than they should have been.”

“Long-shanks.” Which reminded me of a long-ago English king.

“Yeh.” Snort. “And like Swami Negran, too. Little murdering bastard!”

By this time the word had gotten out that Negran was the one who did in Adam Bloodlove. Mick made sure of that. But no one could bring the Indian mystic to justice. The man supposedly had been killed by a Christian radical in a so-called car crash.

“And no one can find his red crystal,” I said.

“Joe thinks his father and his elitist cronies hid the crystal somewhere and they’re using it. I mean, all the crap with the weather. Shit, Jay, southern England’s drying up, and they’re literally drowning in Walltown. Jack and Keith have been up there about a month now. They think they’ve found some Code manuscripts in an iron vault, but they can’t open the vault until it stops raining. And who the hell ever heard of earthquakes in Wales? Torquay and them are definitely screwing around with the weather.”

I laughed, especially since he had no proof. “You sound like those militia-types we have here in the States.”

The third snippet from The Prodigal Band, Chapter Eight (Chapter Ten in the PDF version) features the same group of evil-doers but with newer members making plans to deal with the band which appears to be reneging on their original “oath” to the forces of evil.


Inner sanctum of the Hellyon Society at Torquay Hall, June 14, 2001

 

A glowing hot ring of fire embedded within a pentagram and reflected in the faces of Torquay, Effingchester, Rodney Davis, Messrs. X and Y and eight others as they stood, in black robes with black hoods covering their foreheads, in a circle surrounding the fire. They held up crystal goblets filled with a blood red wine.

“To Cole Blessing,” Torquay began the toast. “He served us well, and he put the planet, and Our Lord Lucifer, above everything else. He served our cause to the fullest.”

They clinked glasses.

“Being impaled on a bedpost!” Davis snickered. “Crap, if I wanted to kill somebody—”

“You always want to kill somebody,” Effingchester scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Marty, but I wouldn’t have picked him up and put him through a bedpost. Anyone know who did it?”

“None of us,” X said, “and, as far as I know, everyone who knew Blessing has already been cleared. I personally think it really was an accident.”

“Right,” Davis sneered, “just what the media says.”

“And who do you think told them to say that?”

Murmurs all around, some muffled laughter.

“But Blessing isn’t why we’re here, you know?” Davis had no love lost for the spirit healer of the St. Xenos ashram. “It is past time for us to have gained the complete and total allegiance of Sound Unltd. Way past time!”

“We have their allegiance,” Y said. “We’ve had their allegiance since Swami Negran inducted them into the Circle of Unity.”

“Right!” Davis grew angry, trashed his cup, and stomped out of his point into the center of the pentagram, by the fire. “That’s a load of crap! I know for a fact that they stopped following the Circle of Unity since those heart attacks of theirs. I know for a fact that they’ve repudiated Negran since Mick found out Negran killed Adam Bloodlove. I also know for a fact that instead of following Blessing, they went chasing after the meaning of that blasted Walltown Code, have communicated with someone called the Witch of the Hovels and have had miraculous messages from that Tooters statue of theirs! Now, does anyone here really think that Corion is pleased with our piss-poor efforts? We were supposed to have them signed, sealed, and their souls delivered by now. I guarantee it, he was not at all pleased with Cole Blessing’s botching of that job. The same way he was not pleased with Swami! And I, for one, don’t want to wind up in their shoes!” The promoter was livid now, flailing his arms. “We’ve got to do something! Now or never!”

Marty then stepped out to commiserate with Davis. “I admit we haven’t been on our guard over them. But that miracle business will soon be forgotten if it hasn’t already, and those six will get back to normal. At this point, Rod, they couldn’t leave all their wealth and power behind even if they wanted to. They are wedded to the elite just as surely as we are.”

“But they need to take the oath, Marty. They need to come right in here, drink blood, sign the oath in blood, do the ceremony just like all of us have, and then I’ll know—we’ll know—that they belong to Corion and Our Lord Lucifer. Then we’ll know that we’ll be side by side with him when he comes back to rule the world. Then we’ll know that Corion won’t gnaw on us forever!” Davis was now pleading in desperation. “We have got to get them in here! One by one in chains if we have to, but we have to prove to Corion that we mean business!”

“So how do we do that without exposing ourselves?” Torquay, usually assured of every Novordo plot, was now at a loss and nervous about being at a loss. “We can’t kill them until they’ve signed the oath. And scaring them into signing an oath would tip them off.”

“What ‘tip them off’?” Davis would have no excuses. He faced down Torquay. “Tip them off to what? They have no idea about what we want them to do. The ‘tip off’ as you put it comes when they are threatened with losing all that money and power they’ve acquired. That we’ve allowed them to acquire! They either sign on, or we wipe them out financially and any other way we can come up with. Maybe a few accidents, you know what I mean?”

Effingchester stepped back into the circle. “We must never soften our stance, you know. We must screw them over until it is done. And their women too, you know. They must suffer also. And their children. And their families. They must be ruined. Completely and utterly.”

“Works for me,” X said. “Too bad. They’ve always had such productive unit-sales.”

Y concurred. “Yes, they really know how to make a hit. They’ve got the most loyal fans in the world. It really is too bad we have to lose them.”

“Well,” Davis said, “it’s either them or us. That’s all there is to it.”

Now, if you want to know what this conspiracy involves, you may just have to buy the book–no spoiler alerts this time!

You can purchase the entire The Prodigal Band Trilogy at my author spotlight page here!

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

 

 

Snippets of The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Comedy

Everyone has their definition of “comedy” because everyone has their own sense of humor and everyone has their own idea of what is “funny” and what isn’t, which could also include satire (which I will deal with later…in my opinion there is more satire than comedy in these three books that make up the trilogy.)

The first example also includes some slapstick…well, that’s my opinion anyway. This example is found in the final chapter of Battle of the Band and comes right before another category I just added to the series, Tragedy.

While creating videos for a new video marketing company in their home town, Walltown, the singer (Erik) and the bassist (Keith) are leaving a pub called the White Horse Pub and heading back to the tour bus so as to get ready to party somewhere else high on a designer drug called skuz. It is evening in early February, 1996. Both were drunk on whiskey, but Erik more so–he was trying to drown his self-pity over his wife’s (Ger) supposed “betrayal” in that she never told him she was bulimic. She was a TV hostess as well as supermodel. Note:  I have heard and read in magazine articles that many supermodels as well as models, to keep their weight down, turn to eating disorders such as bulimia or anorexia.


Two-and-a-half hours and uncounted whiskey shots later, Keith, himself swaggering drunk, had to support his blood brother as the two swayed back to the bus parked by the alley site.

It was almost eight o’clock when the singer finally told himself he’d drunk enough for the blues to swim away. Now, he needed something to pep himself up so that, maybe, he and his brother rogue could go out and party somewhere else.

Keith had just the something—a hit of skuz. Or two. Or three.

Moments from the van, Erik fell into Keith’s chest. “Am I gonna make it, bro?” He slurred. “I can barely—”

“We almost there, eh? Just a wee bit, eh? Get the hell of me!” The besotted bassist held him up. “Shit! You a ton o’ dead weight.”

Ten more tortuous steps. Slam! Erik’s body hit the back door of the van.

“Hold on to the handles, eh bro? Gonna open the door in front, eh? Then I’ll figure out some damned way to get you in.” Keith rounded the van. “Why the hell I let you drink so much? And now you gonna need a whole packet of skuz to get you right.” He entered the van, cussing at himself. “Nice going, eh Keith?” Nearly tripping over the black bags in the aisle way, he kicked them to the side, yelling, “Move your bloody bag next time, eh Bry? Little—big!—shit screws his back, so he thinks he can leave his bags wherever the hell he feels like. Up yours, Bry!”

Erik banged on the back doors. “Open the goddamned door, Keith! Bloody cold out here!”

“Wait up, bro.” Tripping over the handle of Jack’s ever-present portable amp—“Get the hell off me!”—Keith’s head accidentally slammed into the inside back doors. Cusses galore.

Erik, about to fall down, yelled, “Stop your bloody cussing and let me in, Keith!”

“Hold your goddamned balls, Erik! Bloody door won’t open.”

Wham! Erik crashed backwards into the van as Keith kicked open the back door.

Five minutes and a cavalcade of cussing later, Keith had Erik within, the singer sprawled atop the amp, his own bag as well as Jack’s and Tom’s, nearly out like a dead lightbulb.

“I found it, bro. Skuz. Good for what ails you, eh? Right here in the side pocket o’ me bag. We fix you up.”

The whiskey-soaked singer barely found his thick voice. “I’ll prob’ly need—” His voice trailed off into slumber.

In the second example within Chapter Three of The Prophesied Band is found the women of four of the band members, by then married to these members. Laurie is married to guitarist Jack; Jarris is married to bassist Keith; Ger is married to singer Erik; and Mo is married to keyboardist Bry. Also mentioned is Bry’s synth-building partner, Reg Lewis. Some groupies are also mentioned, Peaches and Artesia. The scene begins (narrated by a pop culture journalist) with the women exiting a heliport atop the hotel and heading to their men’s fancy suite rooms. Meanwhile, a groupie, knowing Ger is coming, tries to get Erik to let her go before Ger shows up but he keeps her there on purpose. When Ger enters the suite a round of ‘verbal judo’ ensues. Later, during a band concert, the four women are off-stage, but close enough to the performing band, and are smoking a joint, discussing what happened when they had arrived at the fancy hotel in New York City that day to be with their men. They are trying to “one up” each other, which was standard operating procedure for this foursome.

Warning: the following is rated R.


And then there were the women:  blonde-bombshell-turned-mommy Laurie Koolig; fiery red-head cosmetics tycoon Jarris Mullock; Ger Manilow, Britain’s top super-model; and wavy red-head Mo McClellan. Since they couldn’t join the tour in Los Angeles, it had to be New York City. As in the luxurious New York Wynworth Hotel, The Club, and The Studio—where, for a fifty-thousand dollar membership and all the skuz you could snort, you could engage in foreplay as you and your date strolled past hundreds of milling wanna-bes and gossip hounds.

Besides, the Richmont Port Authority wouldn’t let a hired helicopter land at Richmont Speedway. It wouldn’t have been in good taste for the one in New York to refuse the same request from four of the world’s most glamorous females, so a whirlybird from a local airport arrived atop the Wynworth one roasting afternoon in mid-June.

Must have been sweltering weather for the girls. They all wore their most alluring sables.

I doubt if Ger’s racks of ice around her neck, waist, and wrists cooled her off. But that’s okay. She needed to be in the Big Apple anyway to do her Diamond Girl video. Rumor had it the world’s top supermodel, back in form after birthing her son Alec, wanted to upstage her rival.

She definitely upstaged New York’s most bodacious groupie, fiery red-head Peaches La Crème. Next to Rona, no Fun Girl could enflame Erik Manning’s manhood as the freckled former street-tough with Brooklyn accent to match.

But Ger was his something. The consummate pro at seduction. Her sultry eyes and voice, her Southern-Belle-ish smile played to enthrall the male race. Of expensive means, that is. She allowed no serious competition.

 

Having thrown a tawny-colored mink-and-leather wrap on her left shoulder, Peaches turned to leave the singer’s room.

Wearing a towel around his lower torso, Erik came out of the bathroom with a sigh. “It’s that time already, eh?”

She opened the bedroom door into the suite lounge and noticed the clock on an antique ornate table. “It’s past time, after two.” Turned to him with plaintive blue eyes. “I better get the hell outta here before Ger comes.” Out the door.

He briskly went after her. “Wait a bit, babe. One more hug, eh?”

Ger, and then the others, stepped out of the down elevator onto the Deluxe Suite floor.

Several wet kisses and squeezes. Peaches tried to push him away. “I gotta go, sweet love. She’s gonna walk in—”

“So what?” Grabbed her tightly. “What she gonna do?”

Ger opened the grand suite double doors.

“Well, I don’t—” Peaches, within his caress, turned her head around at the whoosh of the opening doors. Mouth opened.

Her eyes firing lava at the groupie, Ger cocked her head and seethed with stiffening body. That Peaches bitch! You kept her ‘til now on purpose, didn’t you, Erik!

“I’m outta here.” The blushing red-head almost shot out of the lounge, hastily passing Laurie, Jarris, and Mo, who stood at the doorway waiting for a scene.

For effect, the brunette whipped the carpet with her sable. “God, Erik! Didn’t you remember I was coming at two?” Sneer.

But Manning was too manly to be cowed by her play at wrath. He coolly glanced at the clock opposite the door. Two-twenty. Then slowly turned his head back to her with mockery. “Yeh, babe, at two. Just where the hell you been?” Snort. Then he went into his room, leaving the page-boy styled model there to stew in her vain possessiveness.

For her singer was the only man in the world who could put her back in her place. She’d never be above him.

That was why, with her plethora of tasty young lovers, she’d never put any of them ahead of him.

She picked up the sable, looking sidelong back at the girls as they entered the suite. “Sorry about that.”

Jarris looked her in the eyes. “Don’t apologize to us, girl.”

The others went to their men, and Ger went to hers. Humbled, she stood, sable, diamonds and all, in his doorway waiting for a pardon.

Propped on pillows, he lay naked outstretched on his bed. Victorious smile. “So like I’ve waited three months for you, and you just standing there sheepish?” He slapped the bed. “Get that gorgeous ass of yours over here.”

Her will to conquer him returned. On her way to his pulsating fruit, the bed would have come alive for her passion.

 

That night off-stage during the show at a nearby stadium

 

“So, Ger, what happened after you went into his room?” Laurie lit a joint for herself and the rest of this foursome of inseparable women. Long toke. “Did you two argue?” The sexy blonde’s smiling eyes wanted scandalous news that might set even the rafters and blazing speakers above them to listen. “Or did you give in to his lust?”

Cocky cool and jutting her left hip, she toked. “He was putty in my arms, girl. You know he was already naked when I got there. I strutted to his bed licking my diamonds and rubbing them in my twat, you know, and I threw ‘em at his feet. Then my sable at his pecker. Then I stripped, and threw my clothes at his face.” Toked again, then handed the joint to Jarris. “I slinked onto the bed and—you know.” Toothy smile. “So,” laugh, “that’s my story of salacious seduction.” Ger smiled sweetly to Laurie. “So like what’s yours?”

Laurie had to yell now because the music suddenly got a lot louder. “Would you believe he was taking a shower?”

“Oh, yeh?” Jarris interrupted. “Who’d he just lay?”

“How the hell would I know? You think the first thing I did when Jack came out of the shower was to ask him who he just wanked? Not bloody likely, Jar!”

“But you wondered, eh?” Mo asked with a throaty voice and a street tough accent. Toke.

“Yeh, right. But in the meantime, I was preparing myself for the feast, you know.” Took the joint from Mo. “You know that whipped cream I brought?” Laughs.

“Ooooohh!” Mo licked her lips. “And you licked him dry in the passion play.”

“He was limp with exhaustion, girl. Like, after I squirted his pecker and licked it clean, he could barely control himself. He never humped me so bloody hard in his life. Like he hadn’t any in weeks.” Laugh. “Well, hours, anyway.” She looked at Jarris. “Your turn, babe.” Toke.

“When I opened the door that bitch Artesia was biting Keith’s ear, so I grabbed her, dragged her out of his bed and threw her out the door.”

“Shit, Jar!” Mo shouted above the now muted music, causing Mick, the closest on stage, to give her a dirty look.

Mo saw the guitarist glare at her. “Ooops! Sorry, Mick.” Turned her volume down. “Shit, Jar, you serious?”

The skinny red-head laughed. “No. He was playing his VideoGame.”

Sighs of relief all around.

“So I threw off me sable and marched up to him and said as a vixen in heat, ‘You put that stupid game away, Keith Mullock!’ and proceeded to rip off his leather trousers, eh? Then I took a flying leap on top of him that burned the hair off his chest. Before he could even unplug that game, he tossed it to the floor, eh? Then we wrestled each other’s clothes off.”

“Totally delicious!” Ger giggled. “Like you always say—he’s sooo good in bed. Need to try him sometime.”

“In your dreams, babe.” Snide laugh. “Now, Mo, can you top that?”

“Maybe.” Mo toked again, eyes flashing pride. “At least I got to throw someone outta Bry’s room.”

“Who?”

Stifled a laugh. “Reg Lewis.”

As the girls cackled, the music exploded and the audience roared.

With the other women nearly rolling on the floor with riotous comedy, Mo wiped tears of hard laughter from her eyes. “Yeh, I said, ‘Goodbye, Reg,’ and flung him out the door. His head almost,”—shriek of laughter—“hit the door frame!”

The girls were picking themselves off the floor.

“Bry got off the bed to protest, eh? So I shoved him back onto his bed and ripped his clothes off. Ripped ‘em, eh? Seriously.”

“Good for you, girl.” Laurie said.

“Yeh. When you deal with Bry McClellan, you sometimes have to get rough with him. The rougher, the better. Turns into a real sex machine.” Like he always was before he got me pregnant and we got married.

In the third example, from Chapter Eleven of The Prodigal Band (or chapter 13 of the PDF) the six band members are in a spiritual void–not heaven and not hell–after being “rescued” from a calamity on their private jet headed to a London Airport in order to attend a Directorate meeting. At first separated, the six band members find themselves together again a short time later–but in a realm without time. Spoiler alert: two of the band members had already experienced a similar spiritual void a few years before while their bodies were physically in hospital beds.


“Fancy meeting you here,” Erik smiled.

Keith went up to him. “This is the place, eh bro?”

“Yeh. Same place, but no black holes and no other people. But how’d we get here?” Then the singer dropped his jaw. “Are we—?”

The bassist anticipated the question. “No. We not dead.”

“You sure, bro?”

“We’re on a mission of God, eh? Not a mission to God.”

A glowing light turned on in Manning’s brain. “Well, that explains it, then!” He waved his arms with such joy he wanted to jump on the others with the news. “We’re on a mission of God but now we’re on a mission to God! That way, God can tell us what He wants us to do!”

Jack was nonplused, but turned annoyed. “Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!” He stood there, hands on hips in disbelief. “God isn’t some guy you meet on the street! Like you really, really think the Almighty God, Jehovah, Yahweh, whatever, is going to deign to face pipsqueaks like us and put us in a circle around Him and tell us big-time unrepentant sinners what He wants us to do?” He then marched up to the singer. “Are you freaking out of your freaking mind? Who do you think we are? Ezekiel, Daniel, Elijah, Jeremiah, Moses and David?”

“Who?”

Jack slumped, exasperated. “I thought you said you were reading the— Never mind!”

Tom said, “They’re Biblical prophets, right?”

“Not all of ‘em,” Jack answered. “Moses was the guy who took the Jews out of Egypt. David was the guy who slew Goliath with a sling shot. The other guys are big time prophets.”

“Why?” Erik wanted to know.

“Why were they prophets?” Jack had to think fast. “Because according to the Bible, God told them to say things to the Jews like repent from your sins and stuff like that, ‘cos if they didn’t, God would destroy them. And basically, that’s what happened. Most of the Jews— they had twelve tribes, but ten of them were wiped out. They were conquered, then scattered. The other two tribes were taken by the Babylonians, but later they returned. Anyway, God punished ‘em ‘cos they wouldn’t stop sinning. Something like that.”

“Okay, I get the picture!” But the singer got going. “But that brings us back to what we were saying months ago when we were given this mission. Why would God choose us unrepentant sinners to do this mission? Which leads us to why would God bring us here to tell us what—”

Jack flew off the handle. “I didn’t say that, you did! You’re the one who’s saying we got raptured up here!”

Keith’s eyes popped out. “You mean, this is THE rapture?”

“What rapture?” Bry asked.

“You know, THE rapture in those ‘end-times’ novels. That’s when all the Christians get taken up into Heaven—”

Jack shouted for effect. “It’s NOT the rapture! Bloody shit!”

Tom shot back, “No cussing in Heaven.”

There are more comedy scenarios with the three-book-novel trilogy.  And I had a lot of fun writing these scenarios! More snippets to come next week!

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.