Silence of death accompanies darkness
rivaled only by the pitch of tar.
Confusion shows on dimly-lit faces.
Anticipation of arrival produces a murmur
that builds to an ear-splitting roar.
Pyrotechnic explosions and laser flashes from the Bop Gun
produce a collective scream.
The Mothership, cloaked in choking smoke,
settles onto the landing pad.
Lone thumping of a distant Rubber Band
signals an onslaught of sensory overload.
Ritualistic drums bridge across ancient civilizations.
An Atomic Dog howls mournfully in the distance
as Maceo and the Horny Horns trumpet the Coming.
Brides, resplendent in only fishnet and stiletto heels,
echo the wailing.
Pulsating light and conscience-numbing energy
deliver adrenal shock to the multitudes.
Silhouettes of the Being throw defibrillating shadows across the chaos.
Butt-naked and chemically altered, the Doctor
emerges lit by the lone beam of a Flashlight.
His arrival removes all pretension and brings ecstatic release to the masses.
Peripheral chaos suddenly unites in the deafening chorus of a joyful noise.
The Mothership has landed, the Star Child and Sir Nose Aquaboogie
onto the stage and welcome all to Chocolate City,
the P-Funk, the BOMB!
--Ted Baechtold
