I sat down to write a quick little blurb about working with Traffique and the gang. I was going to make a timeline of how we all met and how events led to me putting together a rag tag band of unlikely san diegans to back Traffique's beautiful tunes, and how we did it all in just a few weeks. It was going to be witty while also thanking all the right people and it was going to impress you. I shot Traffique a text asking, "Can you send me over some quick thoughts about the night of the show." Her recollection will give you a way better idea of what this experience was like. Here's what she sent.... <3 Kenny...

OK BRO, DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU, MY STRAIGHTEDGE FRIEND:

"can't fucking believe how many of these johns are freaking cops," groaned traffique, her blue lips full of rage.
replied her loyal doris: "i know, huh?"
"where would you go if you could just get away, doris?" sighed traffique, her eyes reflecting the only world she could see---a tragic fratosphere.
"anywhere they don't have Title 18 Part I Ch. 117 Sec. 2422 laws."

meanwhile, in outer space…

only three days before the show, bertrand, chester, and errol transported themselves from charon, which was perfect because traffique really needed a keyboard player, another alto, and a drummer.
it was tricky fitting all of that gear in one small hot air balloon, but errol rode on top of chester's shoulders to make it work.
this infuriated chester, as errol weighed 1400 earth pounds.
(chester would have a hard time drumming that night with shoulders relocated that morning by a drunk shaman friend.)
2.8 billion miles (that's 39.4 AU, genius) with a pterodactyl on your back is…

rough.

bracheosaurus.

Bertrand doesn't know his Avemetatarsalia from his Sauropoda.  Errol is a brachiosaurus.
either way.  dinosaurs are heavy.
and both ways, dinosaurs are sexy.

super sOUper sexy.

ok, so we agree. their leathery skin doesn't work against them. like bikers'. here's what bertrand and chester argued about as their balloon landed, late for soundcheck as usual, on 5th street downtown SD:
Errol, still sleepy from his nap, forgot to bring half of the gear.  this necessitated a trip back to the hot air balloon.
quite common. these altos think the world is made of nutella.
bertrand, single-mindedly focused on his desire to renew the blue laws, astounded chester.
all this trouble was compounded by the extremely strong force of earth's gravitational pull.  Bertrand, a dinosaur hybrid found only on Pluto, resembles an earth giraffe and was having trouble keeping his disproportionately small head and giant neck from dragging on the sidewalk.
the perpetually bored chester wanted nothing more than to hold up bertrand's head, since making your giraffe-like friend look tall was considered very noble on charon.
trouble was that chester, while very heavy, was also very small. like a lead penguin.
errol worried that chester's arms, now relocated, could not support the weight.
chester asked errol to stop being a baby.
errol, attempting to divert the course of events, asked to at least first use the restroom.

***
this petty bickering continued as they stumbled straight through the main venue to the restroom, where they discovered a pair of dino-worthy gloryholes, and, not knowing what those were, peered thru them with their dino-eyes to discover local whores traffique and doris arguing over their monetary prospects for the evening.
chester muttered under his breath his desire to return home, away from this loathsome planet, scrubbed clean of dinosaurs and hookers.
traffique and doris, however, having longed for such salvation as their youth slipped away, quickly hatched a plan.  While Doris pleasured errol and bertrand, traffique absconded with the keys to the hot air balloon.
blessed are those that can vomit from drinking.
THE END