MARCHING TARBORGS PREPARE FOR BATTLE
The Tarborgs are more than ready for the Battle of the Bands, for Dr. Tarborg has brought forth the greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll band in all of creation.
There were now numerous Tarborgs and they were becoming more sophisticated seemingly by the moment. They started thinking for themselves, making their own decisions and creating more and more complex and intricate music. Their method of communication became a highly evolved and advanced form of MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface).
Dr. Tarborg was pleased –very pleased indeed. The plan was coming to its fruition. “Vengeance will be mine,” Dr. Tarborg said.
Something else happened however. The Tarborgs became autonomous in unexpected ways- incidental, accidental evolution-the law of unintended consequences.
The red laser eyes, originally for decorative purposes, (“I love red eyes– just like mine,” the crazy doctor would often say) were now so sensitive that they could see in the darkest night. They were also developing the ability to see through solid objects and read minds.
Similarly, the “no mouth” characteristic of the Tarborg’s shiny, silvery head came about because of Dr.Tarborg’s disdain for young guitarists’ ostensibly redundant speech patterns. When talking to his intended victims, expressions like, “Whoa, That is so cool, Dude, Awesome,” and his number one favorite, “No problem,” just about drove him crazy –oh wait, he’s already crazy.
The Tarborgs, so thought Dr. Tarborg, would not have this annoying trait—they would just shut up and play guitar. But all the DNA harvested from his victims would, of course, appear in the Tarborgs. So because they had no mouths, their ability to communicate surfaced in an unexpected way. The Tarborgs developed their own manner of communication. Their guitar playing served as their voices. They were even developing their own language –a hybrid of written music, guitar tab and guitar sound techniques:
The above example was a popular expression amongst Tarborgs and, loosely translated, means “How ya doin’.”
The Tarborgs could visualize both the musical notation and tab simultaneously as they heard and/or made the sound. Later, this form of communication became a formalized language that would be known as Guitarspeak.
The Tarborgs were also developing gender specific characteristics. There were even rumors that they would soon be reproducing and that a natural birth of the first Tarborg was imminent.
The Tarborgs were now becoming self- aware. They knew who and what they were. And now that they could communicate with one another with their own language, they started to have loftier goals and aspirations. Dr. Tarborg’s ‘Master Race’ idea was no joke to them– it was prophetic. Winning the Battle was not just for Dr. Tarborg but for their survival as a species.
They now believed that they would eventually rule the world. They chose amongst themselves the four best qualified Tarborgs, two females and two males, to represent their species in the Battle. These four would have all the genetic material of the entire Tarborg race and if they lost, all Tarborgs would wither and die.
“This is actually working out quite nicely–not exactly how I anticipated but . . . oh well. Nothing like the thought of extinction for motivation, and my Tarborgs are motivated—perfect,” thought Dr.Tarborg. As he sat in the control room overlooking the Twisty Road Cafe’s stage, the Tarborgs were going through a sound check and rehearsal before the Battle– whispering furtively, sometimes shouting. Just before they began to play, Dr. Tarborg leaned into the control room’s microphone and said, “Let me here some of that crazy Tarborg music!” They played an insanely fast symphony of the macabre—a flurry of notes executed flawlessly. Then they stopped. Dr. Tarborg leapt out of his chair and exclaimed “I love the sound of Tarborgs . . . it’s the sound of victory!”