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Out Of Mind » MEMBER ADVERTISING & BLOG FORUMS » T.S. "Tray" Caladan » "Hoagy's Head" by TS Caladan

"Hoagy's Head" by TS Caladan

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1 "Hoagy's Head" by TS Caladan on Mon Jun 27, 2016 11:38 pm


"Hoagy's Head"

unknown episode of 'Futurama'

                          by TS Caladan

Fry rushed into the Professor’s headquarters of “Planet Express,” where the usual gang hung out. He was extremely excited about what he’d found…

       “Guys! You’ll never guess what I found in cargo hole #18?”

       “What?” asked the Professor.

       “Huh?” grunted Zoidberg.

       “What were you doing in cargo hole #18?” Bender asked with a suspicious tone.

       “Hey! Finders keepers, I always say,” Fry replied.

       “What’d you find, Fry?” Leela asked.

       “A strange capsule may have dropped from something, or left there. I dunno…but in it…”

       Amy saw the look on Fry’s face and said in anticipation, “What?”


       “Music?” the Professor said in awe and wonder. “Ah, the magical sounds of heavenly choirs, music! I remember days when music was good, not like today’s music that never, never, ever changes, no matter what century we’re in. Love the old tunes that talked about flocks of seagulls, missing submarines, look at those cavemen go, you’ll make great pets and spiders’ tongues in my eyes, I can’t remember all the lyrics, I mean...”

       Fry interrupted, “No. Just might be an ancient mix tape between lovers, you know? Because written on it is ‘mixed tape.’” He opened the palm of his hand and showed them what he discovered in the capsule. “Haven’t played it yet.”


       “Let’s see.”

       It was a flash-stick that appeared a hundred years old or much older.

       “I do so hope it’s a blast from the past. Please God…no more Rap!” the Professor almost screamed. He had heard two centuries of unchanging ‘music.’ He sternly turned to Zoidberg and demanded, “You tell your friends to the East: It’s time for a damn change. We will revolt, we want more! We want BETTER. I say, Rap is cra…”

       Before the old guy finished his line, Zoidberg hugged him good and wrapped one of his clawed, pink appendages around his mouth. “No one is supposed to know about the plot, Professor…”

       “Or why there never is wall-to-wall carpeting broadcasted over the Medias? Why is that? Anyone?” Fry asked the group, oddly.


       Zoidberg released Professor Farnsworth.

       Leela turned her one-eye to Fry and exclaimed, “Well, PLAY the damn thing! New music would be refreshing, Fry.”

       Hermes added, “Holy Hyannis Port, I second that emotion. Rap Music has taken its toll on society, man. It is a wonder how we survived, after the Rap Holocaust.”

       Bender tossed in: “Whatchu talkin’ about? Robots love Industrial Rap, the meaner, the better, the more VIOLENT. Yeah! Hey, robots can be repaired. What do we care?”

       The Professor expressed, “Let’s not get into a ‘rap’ whether Rap Music has social merits or no social merits…”

       Suddenly, Amy lunged at Fry and grabbed the ‘mixed tape’ flash-drive right out of his hand.


       “I’ll do it.” The girl in pink hopped over to the proper console and sat down in front of it. Amy jammed the stick into the tech unit. The data had to be translated and ‘un-compressed’ to be viewed and heard. A computer screen showed that in ‘10 minutes,’ the processing would be completed.

       “In that time, how about we guess and see who comes closest to the type of music on the old stick. I like games,” Farnsworth suggested and smiled.

       “No contest, kids. I’ll win,” Bender declared absolutely. “I’m a robot; you’re puny humans. Hands down! Money in the bank.” The robot snapped his digits together.

       “You want to put your money where your mechanical mouth is, soulless Tin Man?” Hermes goaded the robot to bet his wutangs.

       Fry and the others huddled around Amy and the console screen. He said, “Hey, gang, let’s all anti-up evenly into a big kitty, then give our predictions of what will come on the screen. Closest wins the whole thing!”

       “Agreed,” was the popular consensus around the room.

       “Capital idea, m’boy.” The Professor confessed: “I may have an unfair advantage because I remember much of the past so very well [others nodded sarcastically] and played in a famous rock band once.”

       “Really?” a surprised Fry said.

       Leela replied, “I didn’t know that, sir. Which one?”

       “I said I played ONCE and only once. Spirit’s really old drummer was out of it during a reunion show on a 4-way hit of Windowpane. They pulled me out of the huge crowd at the gig. Did you know I never had hair? Photos and films were phonies. Anywho…they put sunglasses on me and I drummed away with Spirit and famous, fat, lead guitarist, Randy Los Angeles. I was so young, and no one knew the difference. Well, that’s not true.”

       “Wow. A real rock star in our midst,” Amy said from the seat.

       Hermes asked, “How did it go, sir?”

       “Oh, I’ve never drummed. It was a 90 minute embarrassment of terror that ended the reunions, the tour and the band.”

       “Forgeddabout it,” Bender said. “You got lucky that night, right?”

       The Professor shook his head no in disappointment while Leela hugged him.

       To take his mind off his lonely past, Fry asked the old man, “Start it off, Professor. What kind of music d’you think is on the stick, sir?”

       Farnsworth responded as he left Leela’s ample breasts, “Elvis, of course. He was the King. He didn’t die, you know. He had a nice, comfortable pad on Asteroid L-83K…” Just then, the Professor disconnected in frozen, silent seconds and said, “Baalmoral Karnack Bivwac Risa…”

       Fry slugged the old man across the chin. He went flying.

       “Fry!” Leela yelled at her sometimes boyfriend.

       “Nice one, ha,” Bender said and laughed.

       “No, it’s all right guys.” Professor Farnsworth got himself together with glasses intact. He stood up and said to Fry, “Perfect, m’boy. Just as scripted. Yes?”

       “Ha!” Then the man with orange hair expressed, “You know I never thought that would actually come into play, sir.”

       The Professor with indestructible glasses replied: “I know.” Suddenly, the same codes blurted out of his mouth again. “Baalmoral Karnack Bivwac Risa…”

       Once more, Fry pulled his arm back and smacked the old man really hard this time!

       Amy let out, “What’s wrong with you?!”

       Leela repeated herself. “Fry!”

       Hermes responded, “Holy Drugstore Cowboy.”

       Bender eagerly asked, “Can I do it next?”

       Again, the Professor got to his feet and calmed their fears with, “No. I’m fine now. Supposed to be two times.”


       “Shucks. Okay, kids. Let me toss the winning lottery into the hat,” said a cocky Bender. “The stick will have stupid love songs from some era, ah, the DISCO era. I got dibs on sucky, sweet, love songs with a disco beat.”

       Leela was upset. “Wait a minute you tinhorn, riverboat gambler, Bender! Not so fast. I was going to vote on pure love songs of lovers, old standards…without the disco.”

       Professor Farnsworth interceded and said, “Splitting hairs, huh? But one can be sickeningly sweet disco love songs and one be disgusting love crap without the disco.”

       “All right, a few of the votes are in,” Hermes stated. “I vote reggae; I always vote reggae.”

       Zoidberg strangely asked the group out of the blue: “Why am I always the Bank and have to hold all the wutangs?”

       The Professor answered, “Because we trust you.”

       “Aw,” the Decapodian said in appreciation as he secretly snorted up some of the wutangs.

       Leela looked directly at her semi-boyfriend. “What about you, Fry? I hope you haven’t sneaked a peak. How do we know you don’t know what’s on it? Maybe you saw it to win the pot, eh?”

       Cynical Bender was quick to agree. “Ah, HA!”

       Fry said, “No way. I swear. Not a clue. I’ll know when you know.”

       Amy said, “I believe him.”

       “As do I,” added the Professor.

       “I haven’t heard your answer, Fry. What kind of music do you think?” she asked.

       The staff of Planet Express was keen on the finder-of-the-capsule’s answer.

       “Sure. Never told you my favorite band from ancient archives. Well, it’s all from ancient archives…old stuff…that’s the only crap that’s really any good…”

       “You said it, m’boy.” The Professor agreed.

       “It’s Depeche Mode,” Fry confessed.

       “HA!” Leela howled in laughter.

       A few others laughed at his choice. Or was it his precious, secret wish?

       Fry was puzzled. “What the hell’s wrong with Depeche Mode?”

       Leela yelled, “I HATE Depeche Mode!”

       “What?” Fry could not believe it. “Why? Wait. I don’t want to hear those words.”

       “Never mind DP. All right. I just decided now. I’m changing my choice,” Leela stated with confidence. It was a spontaneous choice off the top of her head just to spite Fry. She stated, “Let’s see, what’s the most anti-Depeche Mode music I could possibly think of? Hmm. Wait. I know. The soundtrack I heard from the archives…what was that movie? AH! ‘The Sound of Music!’ That’s what music will be on the stick, ‘The Sound of Music.’ No songs for lovers.”

       Fry’s eyes struck her eye and the vibes were like a volcano ready to blow~

       Hermes quickly interceded. “I sense a rant or rage coming. I love Depeche Mode. I hate Depeche Mode. Sounds of Music? What does it matter? What matters is who wins the wutangs, right? Right?”

       “Truer words were never…” Zoidberg uttered with a broad smile.

       Leela and Fry did not go to battle over the long dead, synth-pop 1980s-90s British band, Depeche Mode. Instead, they calmly listened to the next GUESS from the group.

       Amy volunteered and believed, “Surely it is beautiful meditation music. I would say specifically: Chinese Lotus Music for relaxation and enlightenment. And by the way, my venerated ancestors just told me that…those WUTANGS ARE MINE, you suckers!”

       The others were surprised at the outburst. After the chaos and emotions calmed down…

       Zoidberg said, “That makes it my turn, the Bank. And the Bank always wins. This will be so freaking easy since y’all chose a type of music. Like how we always know the winner on Cimon Scowl’s ‘Galaxy’s Got Talent’…my psychic vote is…it’s not music at all.”

       “Huh.” A few gasps were heard.

       “That’s using your noodle, Z,” the Professor expressed. “Be different.”

       “Why didn’t I think of that?” Bender said softly as he scratched the side of his metal head.

       Fry was disgusted as he thought maybe Zoidberg held a winner. “F-ing Depeche Mode.”

       Leela confronted the sea creature. “Explain yourself. Mixed Tape isn’t music? What d’you think is going to appear?” She turned to the countdown in the corner of the screen. “…In 30 seconds?”

       “Could be anything. Could be a documentary on toads? Hate toads. I don’t have to say what. The bet was who is CLOSER. We’ll let the fair, wise Professor decide the winner, yes?”

       “I think we can all agree on that,” Hermes said.

       “Agreed.” Fry was in full support.

       Amy broke the news. “Something’s appearing on the screen. Is that? What is that?”

       Leela said, “I don’t believe it.”

       Professor Farnsworth was quick to answer. “The film shows a live, honest-to-goodness GAZOO.”

“Professor, I thought they were legendary?” asked Hermes.

       “I thought they were extinct,” recalled Leela.

       Amy now remembered. “I think my father owned one. They go through time, eh?”

       Fry only said, “Cool.”

       The Professor explained, “Those little temporal buggers do indeed traverse Time itself. What’s happening on the screen? Can’t see.” He cleaned his glasses.

       Exactly when the old record of something stopped the ‘processing’ part and the film begun…an actual, real, physical, 3-D Gazoo popped into existence at Planet Express and scared the living ‘jeepers’ out of the gang!                      


       They collectively jumped as the star of the film-record now stood before them in midair.

       Gazoo pushed a pause-button on a remote device he held in his small hand. The film stopped. He introduced himself. “I am the Great Gazoo and I only now discovered you have something of mine. I want it back.”

       The Professor took charge of the situation and walked closer to the thing from another dimension that hovered. “Just an ironic second, you temporal demon. How great are you if you left the thing in our cargo hole? Why didn’t you snap it back from us idiots with your green magic? Yes, yes? And why can’t you take it from us now, eh? Possibly you overstated your greatness, Gazoo?”

       “Ha, ha.” Bender reacted. “Give it to him, sir. I never liked green things.”

       “I want to see the tape,” Fry said.

       “Play the tape,” Amy directed.

       Then they all shouted choruses of “Play the tape. Play the tape! Play the Tape!!”

       Gazoo placed his small arms on his little hips and asked them, “So you want me to play the tape, do you?”

       Everyone yelled the unanimous answer and smiled innocently: “YES!”

       “What about the consequences?” the thing from another dimension inquired.

       The robot yelled, “Screw consequences! Inherit the Wind! The Good Earth! Grapes of Wrath! Do as Maximo Does and other great works where we have to take chances. Be bold!”

       “Bender reads?” Farnsworth asked a rhetorical question.

       Gazoo said to the gang what they did not understand. “Are you sure you dum-dums want to take chances like that and pay the consequences?”

       The mystery of the unknown information on the tape had built to a very excited level where the group had to know, no matter what the consequences.

       “Yes!” was the reply that reverberated around the room.

       Bender expressed, “Hey! We got 70 wutangs on this, bub. We gotta know.”

       Zoidberg reluctantly said, “Maybe there’s 70, almost?”

       “What?” the robot said in confusion.

       “All right then, ladies and gentlemen, you’ll get your wish. You asked for a trip down Memory Lane, and you will receive the history lesson you command,” declared the Great Gazoo. The magic creature in midair pushed the ‘pause’ again and the tape played.

       “Goodie” came out of Leela’s mouth as her eye was on the screen.

       “I love getting my way,” Fry said and smiled like a child.

       Bender said, “Remember. I’m bettin’ there’s no music. I’m right, huh?”

       Gazoo told them, “It’s about music. It’s about ALL music on your wretched planet…”

       The robot was shocked, literally. “What? Ow.”

       “Just watch and learn, you dum-dums,” Great Gazoo instructed as they saw the Life and Times of…




      Hoagy Carmichael

The Gazoo narrator in the film said, “Here’s what Pikiweedia reports: Howard HoaglandHoagyCarmichael (November 22, 1899 - December 27, 1981) was an American composer, pianist, singer, actor, and bandleader. He is best known for composing the music for ‘Stardust,’ ‘Georgia on My Mind,’ ‘The Nearness of You’ and ‘Heart and Soul,’ four of the most-recorded American songs of all time.

Born in Bloomington, Indiana, Carmichael was the only son of Howard Clyde Carmichael and Lida Mary Robison. He was named Hoagland after a circus troupe ‘The Hoaglands.’

American Popular Song Masters wrote that he was the ‘most talented, inventive, sophisticated and jazz-oriented of the hundreds of writers composing pop songs in the first half of the 20th Century.’

Carmichael earned his first money ($5.00) as a musician playing at a fraternity dance, which began his musical career.

His first major song with his own lyrics was ‘Rockin’ Chair’ recorded by Louie Armstrong. His instant fame or ‘musical magic’ attracted band members such as Bubber Miley, Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman and Gene Krupa. ‘Hoagy’ started working hard for endless Broadway musicals and also Hollywood films. He moved to New York in 1929.

After decades of ceaseless ‘hits’ for just about every top singer, major film, theater and other musicians with songs like ‘Washboard Blues,’ ‘Up a Lazy River,’ ‘Lazy Bones,’ ‘Moonburn,’ ‘Old Man Moon’ and ‘Anything Goes.’

His ‘star’ and immense talent was immortalized when a popular sandwich was given the name ‘hoagie.’

Carmichael was an accomplished stage and film actor and appeared as a variety of unusual characters in some of the biggest Hollywood films and in numerous TV productions over a long career. He even appeared as a cartoon in an episode of ‘The Flintstones.’

Novelist Ian Fleming noted that his fictional secret agent character looked like Hoagy Carmichael with a scar on his cheek.

Former Beatle, George Harrison, recorded two of Carmichael's songs (‘Baltimore Oriole’ and ‘Hong Kong Blues’) for his 1981 LP Somewhere in England.

On his 80th birthday, Carmichael was reflective, observing, ‘I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I know I could have accomplished a hell of a lot more... I could write anything any time I wanted to. But I let other things get in the way... I've been floating around in the breeze.’

Carmichael died of heart failure at the Eisenhower Medical Center on December 27, 1981.” The Gazoo in the film-record then stated…

“It’s the official report, anyway. He did not die that way. There’s more to the story…”

       At that point, the real Gazoo in the room again pressed the pause on the remote and the film stopped.

       “What the helio does this have to do with ALL music on your wretched planet?” Bender blurted out what others also thought. “And who won the contest?”

       The Professor had a small whim and strangely asked, “Gazoo, was Hoagy the reincarnation of Ben Franklin?”

       “No, that was Steve Allen,” the green one, still in midair, responded.

       “Oh, that makes sense.” Farnsworth whispered.

       Hermes needed to make sense of the film. “Wait. For the sake of Haile Selassie, please get to the bottom line, green demon. Play the film.”

       “Better. I’ll let someone else finish the story,” Gazoo answered their concerns. “Last chance for your sakes…you SURE you want to know the end of the story?”

       Once more, a variety of affirmatives went around the room.

       “Okay, dum-dums, you asked for it. I did warn you.”

       Amy asked, excitedly, “Who’ll take over tellin’ the story?”


       The Great (and last of his kind) Gazoo gently and sweetly answered, “Why Hoagy himself, my dear.” The thing from another dimension snapped his magical fingers and teleported a certain ‘item’ from thousands of miles away in a secret, New York, underground (D.U.M.B.) bunker directly to the main room of lucky Planet Express~          

Everyone was flabbergasted but the green demon.

       Gazoo had to take a backseat while the ENERGY that was the (literally) immortal Hoagy Carmichael completely took over the conversation and enthralled the souls of those around him. Here was an ‘Undying Musical Monster’ hooked up to a computer sound system directly attached to Hoagy’s Head or his spinal cortex. The man (Mozart) born in the 19th Century and without a body since 1981, continued to make music!

The cylindrical jar that contained the New Yorker’s brain was fixed to a very special, wooden base and an elaborate sound system. Suddenly, a song from the Warner Brothers’ cartoon ‘One Froggy Evening’ filled the room. Hoagy played it with his mind. And he also sang!

       “Hello, my baby. Hello, my honey. Hello, my ragtime gal. Send me a kiss by wire. Honey, my heart’s on fire. If you refuse me, honey you’ll lose me. And you’ll be left alone, Oh baby…

       “Hoagy?” the Professor came close to the head in the solution and the unit that materialized on one of his tables. “You look good.”

       “Call me HC, boys. Don’t have time for anything else. Everyone’s doing the Michigan Rag. Everyone likes the Michigan Raaaag.”

       Gazoo loudly interrupted the Master and Maestro and Music Machine with, “Ha HUM! Sir! Remember you’re here to tell a story?”

       “Like the soundtrack from New York Stories or Bronx Blues…”

       Gazoo pressed another button before the songwriter launched into a Broadway show tune or many Broadway show tunes and electrically jolted the Head in a Jar!

       Carmichael screamed in pain, “AH, HELL! That hurts.”

       “My God,” the girls said.

       “No,” Hermes reacted.

       “What’s wrong with a little electric shock?” the Professor looked around and asked them.

       Bender commented, “Tell me about it.”

       Gazoo explained, “Maybe now you’ll go on with the story and I can make lunch, Okay?”

       HC, under glass, came to sharp clarity. He knew where he was and what he had to do. The great Master of Music would ‘spill the beans’ and tell the truth: a truth that very few people in the world ever understood. This was the guarded Secret on the tape that Gazoo mistakenly MIXED with another capsule. The green time-rider had to explain to giant Time Lords why…

The capsule, ironically, now and in their possession did not contain the Great Answer to the Great Music Mystery of Earth that the Lords sought for centuries…and did contain a graphic video record of the Great Gazoo’s numerous and failed attempts, by the way, of reproduction with a few hundred alien species.

       Great Gazoo changed the scenery for a multiple of reasons. He snapped his fingers and Green Magic took the gang plus two to…

       …Onboard the green Planet Express ship or ‘Old Bessie.”

       Everyone beamed safely. Hoagy was on the ship’s horizontal scanner device, centrally located. He softly played the theme from ‘Titanic.’ The crew adjusted quickly to the new environment that now hurdled toward the Sun. The ship was on auto-pilot.

       “What the Charlie Horse is happening?” Hermes asked.

       “It’s all right, gang,” the Professor did not mean his words. He meant his next words. “Has anyone seen my glasses?” They were gone in the transport and the old man was about blind.


       Some of them looked around a bit.

       Fry asked the obvious. “Why? Why are we in space now?”

       Gazoo was indignant. “Why? Is it not enough that you are in a spaceship? It just is. You know I see 3 dimensions above you 3D humans?”

       “Not me,” Hoagy said and then went into a new song and new lyrics he had never explored before. "Not me, not me. It never will be me. And never can I see…that you"… AH, HELL! That hurts.” HC stopped because he was zapped by the gremlin in midair again.

       Gazoo tried to explain to lesser dimensional beings. “Hmm. How can I make you cartoons understand?”

       “Who’s a cartoon?” Bender was offended. He approached the thing and thought to violently attack it.

       The little magician from another world snapped his fingers and Bender became a human boy, about 16 years old, dressed in a bright shirt and dark pants.

       “Ha! Ha!”

       “That’s Bender? Ha.” Leela asked and laughed.

       Another round of laughter circulated.

       The ex-robot yelled at first. “Hey! Shut up! What the hell? This is a trauma for me~”

       Amy was serious. “You look fine.”

       Leela backed her with, “Yeah. Good lookin’ kid.”

       Bender changed his tune. “Really? Look. I have hair. Hey, hair’s nice.” He examined all his physical parts, even inside his pants. “Wow! Look at that. Ha. Ha! Can’t wait to see what…”

       Everyone laughed.

       Gazoo turned to Hoagy and directed him to: “You have to finish the story before they collide with the Sun.”

       HC remembered. “Oh, yeah.”

       Blinded Farnsworth heard the little guy’s words real well. “Collide with the Sun? Could someone DO something about that?”

       Almost everyone panicked and went into ‘scream mode’ when they realized they were locked onto a ‘sun-dive.’ Things were going to get pretty hot very soon. Hoagy’s Head told the end of the story. No one was listening as the crew ran around frantically and tried everything while the melody of Titanic’s theme was heard. Gazoo looked on and laughed.

       “Well. So much they never reported to the public. They didn’t know during the time my character was on the Flintstones and I happened (rolls eyes) to meet this character, that’s when New York High Rollers made a huge decision that changed the Music Industry from that day forward, forever. My songs were BETTER than everyone else’s by miles! I could write Rhythm and Blues, light Blues, deep Blues, Soul Music, old Jazz to Fusion Jazz. I wrote Opera to Skiffle. I wrote Country to Reggae to Rock to Goth to Heavy Metal to Folk to Punk to Acid to Jesus Music to various trends of music for other countries, which I found challenging. I could do it all and did it all. The Industry came to a complete HALT. They stopped producing other peoples’ music and only, I mean ONLY produced, distributed and promoted MINE! Manilow didn’t write the music; I did, all of it. I wrote his music and Dylan’s music and the Beatles, all of it. That’s the Big Secret. British musical invasion was a whim of mine. I explored new patterns, new mathematics, new directions, colors, flows; I saw it all. Bands were packaged fakes and had no control of their own careers, covers, lives, lyrics, songs, big bands, that is, ones with huge record contracts and world tours. Young men and women were continuously recruited into a phony/deceptive Industry and corporate execs decided what (attractive, for the most part) moderately talented, potential ‘stars’ would receive what particular songs of mine. I made so much money for them. I didn’t do it for them or money or fame or chicks or kicks. I did it for the love of music, man. I remember the smell of jazz bars and intimate clubs by night. Where was I by day? I was a cool cat working my fingers to the bone, pounding away at the 88s for the Man, smoking 2 packs a day, endless coffee. And I loved it. I didn’t mind others got famous for my ‘Light my Fire’ or ‘Norwegian Wood’ or ‘Space Oddity’ or ‘I’ll be Watching You’ or ‘Thor’s Nail.’ Then one day, I had it. I was done, finished. I was an old man and ON STRIKE or retired. The Day the Music Died, indeed. The Spice ended and did not flow. You control a thing if you destroy a thing and I was not going to create one more, bloody note! I was beat and High Rollers put me in this suspension. I rested, got some good sleep. Funny, you know how Shakespeare never existed? Every bit of his masterworks were written by a committee of elites to con the world. I’m an opposite con perpetrated on the world. I, one man who loves music, wrote the Music…and all those others did not. I died in 1981 and I was dying to get back to creating music again and created Alternative. Ah, KROQ in LA. Those were glorious days, US Festivals. If I was asked: What music was my favorite out of the whole mathematical spectrum? I’d have to say: ‘I Love the 80s.’ Sixties revisited. Yeah, that was the first music produced from ‘inside the tank,’ I call it and I really enjoyed that. Then I was told how the white ‘suits’ were going to enslave the Negros all over again as well as enslave the world with the Rap Holocaust. Not my music. I never got into Rap or would I ever have attempted such a soulless, abusive, violent thing. Punk and my Industrial were bad enough…”

       The crew discovered there was no way to disengage from a sun-dive that would happen in three minutes! They barely heard the ‘gibberish’ of HC. They huffed and puffed and eventually fell to the floor of the spaceship, sure they were going to die.

       “Fry. Hold me,” Leela cried. They hugged tightly.

       Human boy Bender cried out: “I’m too young to die!”

       Gazoo snapped his fingers and Hoagy, the sound system base and the music were gone from the ship. He fulfilled his purpose and was teleported back to the New York Underground.

       Blind Professor Farnworth marched right up to where he thought the Great Gazoo hovered. He was close. “Could you explain, green demon? Why are we heading into the Sun?”

       “Of course. I owe you dum-dums that. Anyone who knows the Big Secret about the true source of Earth Music after middle of the 20th Century must be eliminated by Galactic Law.”

       “What Secret?”

       Gazoo quickly looked into the minds of all onboard and soon realized they did not hear or put together Hoagy’s final words. They really didn’t know. “OH. Oh. That’s different.”

       The sun-dive lock was undone. Then the little sprite of Green Magic did one better and brought everyone back to the main room of Planet Express with a wave of his hand…

       The Professor, with glasses, and others in the room were in one piece and very thankful.

       Gazoo was gone.

       Bender was returned to a robot form. “I never got a chance to…”

       “I was going to shoot the green bastard with my laser,” Leela confessed.

       Fry asked, “Why didn’t you?”

       She replied, “I dunno. Must have been the sound of music.”


       Hoagy’s Head was back on his familiar desk in a very well protected Deep Underground Military Bunker under New York. He was no longer at the mercy of the Industry’s taskmasters. He always produced MORE than they could handle. He was a supernova of musical constructs and never tired of new, different and highly innovative styles.

       But today and for eternity, he is in happy isolation. He makes music for himself and the music is still wonderfully beautiful, brilliant, intricate, harmonic and unique. He was always inventive and the musical shapes always grew in an array of different patterns. They were endless streams of mathematical theories and waves of tremendous drama or very soft melodies and tender rhythms that no one, no one whatsoever will ever hear. He continued to passionately create. He thought of his ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and ‘Fool on the Hill’ and cried sweet, bitter tears. It did not matter that he was alone and his sounds will never be received and appreciated.

       He was not at the lovely mercy of taskmasters like the old days because Music was dead. No one wanted his music anymore. But he wanted it. He wanted to see what he could come up with next. He played and loved what he played. So he continued playing. He eventually got tired…

       “God, I’m blanking. What rhymes with June?”
the end

Last edited by PurpleSkyz on Tue Jun 28, 2016 12:29 pm; edited 2 times in total


2 Re: "Hoagy's Head" by TS Caladan on Tue Jun 28, 2016 11:07 am


Thanks to Tray for featuring his work here!

You can purchase his books and prints also here:


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