The DeCapo capers: The man between the Veena's.
A lonely (and very depressed) Audiophile slowly walked out of the sculptured door of a local Hi- end Audio Salon. Rare anymore. Not many Salons left to keep the flames burning. Their roaring fires have been reduced to smoldering coals that twinkle at the edge of the Internet. The few heroic owners, that still kindle the heat of passion (for true Audiophiles) are forced into new and innovative ways to keep the lamp burning. The dim lights that exist still draw the dedicated few, like moths circling a burning bulb.
As he walks, he sees a reflection of himself in the Salon window....the mirrored image of a desperate man in need of beryllium tweeters (For his beloved :DeCapos). His ghostly reflection slowly crosses over a window sticker advertising the logo of... Reference 3a (the only source for his needs). A little sign below says: Grand Veena's now on display and in stock. Real nice, he thinks, but his tweeters were back ordered.... Thinking back, to just moments ago, talking with the Salon owner (a courteous and refined gentleman) who said , " it will be a long, long wait for those tweeters". The old and haggard face of the owner, chiseled by countless bad sales, turned into a wrinkled scowl, as he softly muttered the words,.... " some Internet groupies have bought them all up ... and YOU will just have to wait your turn". He looked up at the Audiophile, and with a curious smile and said........ "I have the new berylliums in the Grand Veena's though". I could give you a great price on them.. There was a long pause in the air... The Audiophile could feel the warm glow from his Visa Card , even through his wallet. The Veena's could be his.... at 26% interest. He quickly shook off the temptation. "I'm sorry" he said, thinking that his wife would be proud... But I just can't today. ...... The salon owner chuckled and said.... "No problem", but we have ways to help you buy them when we are ready...... He turned and was gone, the sound of his sadistic chuckling fading with him.
As the Audiophile walks by the decorated window.... and then onward toward the dark, trash-filled alleyway, there is a dim figure of a large man standing in the shadows. He wears a shabby brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. The stench of chemical styrofoam and wet cardboard fill your nostrils. You strain your eyes to get a closer look at him. His long, dark trenchcoat hangs loose over his body ... The gentle crunch of packing peanuts are heard as they stick to the bottom of his shoes. He pushes a couple of large, empty speaker boxes to the side as he slowly walks toward you. You can see the anxious look on his leathery face.
As his hands move to open the front of his weather beaten trenchcoat, you have thoughts of a congressman that may be too excited to text. As his coat slowly opens, you see a faint glimmer of what looks like small, bronze colored bumps all over his body. Your mind attacks you ! Oh NO! A lepor !! Don't let him touch you... your mind begs of you. He could make you a lepor too. He reaches into his coat, as if to scratch off one of the small bumps... He pulls a bump off and reaches out with it .. The Audiophile knows immediately what it is. A Beryllium tweeter ! The man in the trenchcoat HAS them ... You WANT them ! No waiting, no hassle. He looks at you and smiles. " I know that you need them, and They are here.. For you. ..( He says with a raspy voice). I charge a little bit more, he mutters, but you can have them both "tonight" !! The light shimmers from the motel sign behind you... The soft glow glimmers upon the dozens of tweeters hanging under his coat, secured by little strings. A voice beacons at you from inside your mind.... the tweeters could be yours ! You reach for your wallet. Suddenly the door of the audio salon swings open... The owner of the Audio Salon lurches out and screams Don't Do It !! He's a Tweeter Pusher !! ... You watch as the dark shape of a trenchcoat, the only hope for your tweeters, quickly disappears into the gloom of the night. No tweeters for YOU, echoes from the Seinfeld in your head. You cringe as the large hair covered hand of the Audio Salon owner gently covers your shoulder.
I'm sorry about HIM... the owner says with a smooth voice, tempered by years of retail experience. Please, come inside for another moment and I will fix you a cup of tea and you can listen to the Grand Veena's. he gently guides you through the door and the gloom of night disappears behind you. He places you into a nice leather chair, directly between a new pair of Grand Veena's. I'll be back in a moment, I will put some music on and make you some tea. That man must have really scared you back in the alley, he says with a more serious tone. I will call the authorities as well. Enjoy the music. You watch the owner turn and and walk away as his short stature and large hands fade into another room. You are alone. The music washes over you... You close your eyes. All around you is gone... Just you and Diane Crawl together........Bliss.
In the other room.... a large hairy hand opens the back door to the alley. The door opens wide and the dark form of a large brimmed hat and a trenchcoat appear from the deep glom of night. All is quiet, until ubruptly the sound of metal hitting the cobblestone path ( in the alley ) breaks the silence. Rats... Mutters the shape in the trenchcoat. That's he second time tonight !! Cheap string... Why can't you buy me better string to tie these cheap tweeters up with ! I'm sorry, the short figure with the big hands softly replies. I bought them from Machina Dynamic, and they are supposed to help the sound... The face under the large hat took on a bewildered look and then he smiled and said..... there are over 20 tweeters under this coat... And none of them are hooked up to an amp...how can they possibly sound good ? You are an idiot ! His gaze fixed upon the Salon owner, the man in the trenchcoat speaks softly. Do you think that he will buy the Veena's now (?), he mumbles as he lights an old darkened meerschaum pipe with his brass Zippo... The edge of his large brimmed hat momentarily catches on fire. It is quickly extinguished by a passing bird. The Salon owner looked up at the figure standing in the gloom and replied with a small chuckle.... He will buy them them later, he hasn't has his TEA yet. I will pay you after he leaves. The sound of the back door closing breaks the silence and the dark figure in the trenchcoat quickly disappears into night once more. Inside the whistling of a boiling teakettle fills the air and small pills can be heard dropping into a teacup. "Your tea is ready" a gleeful voice shouts over the crawling sounds. A short man can be seen, in the dim light of the Salon, Teacup in his hairy hands, waddling toward ... The man between the Veena's .
Episode two ?
The man between the DeCapo's.
A lonely (and very depressed) Audiophile slowly walked out of the sculptured door of a local Hi- end Audio Salon. Rare anymore. Not many Salons left to keep the flames burning. Their roaring fires have been reduced to smoldering coals that twinkle at the edge of the Internet. The few heroic owners, that still kindle the heat of passion (for true Audiophiles) are forced into new and innovative ways to keep the lamp burning. The dim lights that exist still draw the dedicated few, like moths circling a burning bulb.
As he walks, he sees a reflection of himself in the Salon window....the mirrored image of a desperate man in need of beryllium tweeters (For his beloved :DeCapos). His ghostly reflection slowly crosses over a window sticker advertising the logo of... Reference 3a (the only source for his needs). A little sign below says: Grand Veena's now on display and in stock. Real nice, he thinks, but his tweeters were back ordered.... Thinking back, to just moments ago, talking with the Salon owner (a courteous and refined gentleman) who said , " it will be a long, long wait for those tweeters". The old and haggard face of the owner, chiseled by countless bad sales, turned into a wrinkled scowl, as he softly muttered the words,.... " some Internet groupies have bought them all up ... and YOU will just have to wait your turn". He looked up at the Audiophile, and with a curious smile and said........ "I have the new berylliums in the Grand Veena's though". I could give you a great price on them.. There was a long pause in the air... The Audiophile could feel the warm glow from his Visa Card , even through his wallet. The Veena's could be his.... at 26% interest. He quickly shook off the temptation. "I'm sorry" he said, thinking that his wife would be proud... But I just can't today. ...... The salon owner chuckled and said.... "No problem", but we have ways to help you buy them when we are ready...... He turned and was gone, the sound of his sadistic chuckling fading with him.
As the Audiophile walks by the decorated window.... and then onward toward the dark, trash-filled alleyway, there is a dim figure of a large man standing in the shadows. He wears a shabby brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. The stench of chemical styrofoam and wet cardboard fill your nostrils. You strain your eyes to get a closer look at him. His long, dark trenchcoat hangs loose over his body ... The gentle crunch of packing peanuts are heard as they stick to the bottom of his shoes. He pushes a couple of large, empty speaker boxes to the side as he slowly walks toward you. You can see the anxious look on his leathery face.
As his hands move to open the front of his weather beaten trenchcoat, you have thoughts of a congressman that may be too excited to text. As his coat slowly opens, you see a faint glimmer of what looks like small, bronze colored bumps all over his body. Your mind attacks you ! Oh NO! A lepor !! Don't let him touch you... your mind begs of you. He could make you a lepor too. He reaches into his coat, as if to scratch off one of the small bumps... He pulls a bump off and reaches out with it .. The Audiophile knows immediately what it is. A Beryllium tweeter ! The man in the trenchcoat HAS them ... You WANT them ! No waiting, no hassle. He looks at you and smiles. " I know that you need them, and They are here.. For you. ..( He says with a raspy voice). I charge a little bit more, he mutters, but you can have them both "tonight" !! The light shimmers from the motel sign behind you... The soft glow glimmers upon the dozens of tweeters hanging under his coat, secured by little strings. A voice beacons at you from inside your mind.... the tweeters could be yours ! You reach for your wallet. Suddenly the door of the audio salon swings open... The owner of the Audio Salon lurches out and screams Don't Do It !! He's a Tweeter Pusher !! ... You watch as the dark shape of a trenchcoat, the only hope for your tweeters, quickly disappears into the gloom of the night. No tweeters for YOU, echoes from the Seinfeld in your head. You cringe as the large hair covered hand of the Audio Salon owner gently covers your shoulder.
I'm sorry about HIM... the owner says with a smooth voice, tempered by years of retail experience. Please, come inside for another moment and I will fix you a cup of tea and you can listen to the Grand Veena's. he gently guides you through the door and the gloom of night disappears behind you. He places you into a nice leather chair, directly between a new pair of Grand Veena's. I'll be back in a moment, I will put some music on and make you some tea. That man must have really scared you back in the alley, he says with a more serious tone. I will call the authorities as well. Enjoy the music. You watch the owner turn and and walk away as his short stature and large hands fade into another room. You are alone. The music washes over you... You close your eyes. All around you is gone... Just you and Diane Crawl together........Bliss.
In the other room.... a large hairy hand opens the back door to the alley. The door opens wide and the dark form of a large brimmed hat and a trenchcoat appear from the deep glom of night. All is quiet, until ubruptly the sound of metal hitting the cobblestone path ( in the alley ) breaks the silence. Rats... Mutters the shape in the trenchcoat. That's he second time tonight !! Cheap string... Why can't you buy me better string to tie these cheap tweeters up with ! I'm sorry, the short figure with the big hands softly replies. I bought them from Machina Dynamic, and they are supposed to help the sound... The face under the large hat took on a bewildered look and then he smiled and said..... there are over 20 tweeters under this coat... And none of them are hooked up to an amp...how can they possibly sound good ? You are an idiot ! His gaze fixed upon the Salon owner, the man in the trenchcoat speaks softly. Do you think that he will buy the Veena's now (?), he mumbles as he lights an old darkened meerschaum pipe with his brass Zippo... The edge of his large brimmed hat momentarily catches on fire. It is quickly extinguished by a passing bird. The Salon owner looked up at the figure standing in the gloom and replied with a small chuckle.... He will buy them them later, he hasn't has his TEA yet. I will pay you after he leaves. The sound of the back door closing breaks the silence and the dark figure in the trenchcoat quickly disappears into night once more. Inside the whistling of a boiling teakettle fills the air and small pills can be heard dropping into a teacup. "Your tea is ready" a gleeful voice shouts over the crawling sounds. A short man can be seen, in the dim light of the Salon, Teacup in his hairy hands, waddling toward ... The man between the Veena's .
Episode two ?
The man between the DeCapo's.