There are legends told among poultry, tales

There are legends told among poultry, tales of terrible ancestors with gnashing teeth who lived in lush forests warmed by an ancient sun. In the end time a globe of fire plunged to

wards a great sea causing a catastrophic wave & a cloud of dust to rise up blotting out the sun. All the scaly flightless ancestors of present day chickens perished, but one day

when all the planets are aligned once more, they will arise again. They shall sow terror in all that see them. Mothers will scream and children will flee. Many shall die in the

melee. But still, the Great Chicken must rise, as foretold in the ancient scrolls. Verily I say unto you that whosoever claims that the egg came first shall perish. The skies grew

weary of this "ground deity" rubbish, but the Great Chicken didth riseth. It fed on the believers because perished food is gross. Hen of Troy curtsied for her zombie lord, a classy

wench she was, she thought, that was until she gave herself a way by gobbling uncontrollably like a common cage chicken. The zombie's eyes narrowed and one fell out, the gig was up

town and the Zombie was still downtown. The Band was called the G Willikers. This Zombie had auditioned and was the bass player. Their Genre was "shoe gazing." The Zombie needed

To add the Pokemon Go app instead of playing bass just two and a half years later. July 6th 2016 was his last gig ever. He burned his guitar and walked away in search of Pokemon.

Little did he suspect that the Pokemon were searching for him. He had been pre-paid to play guitar at Pokepaloosa and had never shown up.