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The Great Moonwolf Trap

Words and Music: © 2002 by Tom Smith
This is a "Boy Named Sue" kinda talking blues. And I finally get to use the word "bodacious" in a song.

If you go down Indiana way, you can find him there, or so they say,
The living legend called "Moonwolf" -- this song is his.
Give him a hammer, he'll make you a gun; give him a guitar, he'll make you a pun,
But don't give him a girl, he's got enough as it is.

Now, Wolfie's got stories from coast to coast, but this one's a little bit newer than most,
See, last week he saw an ad in the local news,
There was an auction set for Sunday night, and Wolf couldn't believe he was reading right --
Firearms, musical instruments, and antique tools.

You thought it was gonna be "booze", didn'tcha?
Naaaah. You can't buy liquor in Indiana on a Sunday.
Some folks would say you can't hardly buy liquor in Indiana any other day of the week, either.
But I digress.

It was one of those hazy summer nights that can lead to love or lead to a fight
And it's hard to say which one you'd rather see,
Well, ol' Moonwolf drove his 4-by-4 right up to the red barn's weathered door
When his Wolf Sense started tingling suspiciously.

Unfortunately, it tingles kinda loud -- AWOOO AWOOO AWOO- you get the idea.

It wasn't the seventeen virginal hotties with their sensuous smiles and bodacious bodies,
Heck, that's part of Moonwolf's standard convention rate,
And it wasn't the bottles of Bushmill and Tully, no, it was the rope going over a pulley
And tied to a stick proppin' open a Wolf-sized crate.

Just then he noticed, between the trees, a spring-loaded platform with a tray of cheese
And a bucket balanced on top of the old barn door,
A bear trap set with a bottle of beer, a target with a sign: "FREE BIRD SEED HERE",
And his Wolf Sense started tingling even more.

AWOOO AWOOO AWOO- damn, that's annoying.
All the cool superpowers were taken.
Why couldn't I at least sprout ginsu knives from my knuckles at Christmas time?
I could call myself "Adamantium Claus".
Ho ho ho.

Wolf raised his eyebrow and set his jaw, and said real loud, "I can call the Law,
Or you can come out and we can settle this man to man.
Whatever you want, whoever you are, I came for the tools, the guns and guitars,
And if I can't get 'em here, I'll go someplace where I can."

The barn door opened with a creak and a hiss -- Wolf noticed the bucket fell and missed
The mysterious figure silhouetted by a cold green glow.
Well, it wasn't Smith or Grubbs or Sutton, it was tall and blue and had its finger on the button
Of a Moonwolf-talent-stealing remote control.

Y'notice how I get that plot point in there,
Without resorting to a whole buncha mind-numbingly complex exposition?
This song used to be three and a half hours.
I'll be releasing the Director's Cut on DVD sometime in November.
Only available from TomSmithOnline.com.

That alien said,
"From beyond the Moon, past Venus and Mars, from the local cluster to the furthest stars,
Is Moonwolf known and feared and loved and adored,
You're a hero and example to all space fellas, and it drove me crazy and I got so jealous
I created a machine in which all your skills will be stored.

I'm a terrible shot and a tone-deaf jammer, with tools I'm all thumbs that I've nailed with hammers,
But with this device I will finally come into my own.
Your blacksmithing tricks, your firearm savvy, your musical licks -- I now shall have! E-
Ven as we speak, I become Moonwolf -- I, alone!
YAAHH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA!"

Y'know, there just ain't enough Stan Lee-style psychotic cackling in talking blues.

Moonwolf sighed and he shook his head, saying "Interesting thought, but didn't you forget
The First Rule of Evil Schemes in a Comedy Song?
All this rantin' and ravin' and pausing to gloat has distracted you so much you failed to notice
That this is the verse where all of this stuff goes wrong."

The alien snarled and aimed his remote, but the stick holding open the crate up and broke,
And the whole thing came down on his foot with a nasty thud.
His eyes bugged out and he yelped and hopped six feet in the air, and his good foot stopped
In the not-quite-forgotten bucket sittin' there in the mud.

The ensuing forty-three-and-a-half seconds
Are a watershed in the history of musical comedy.
Unfortunately, it all happened so durn fast, and the light was so dim,
That what precisely happened has been lost to posterity.
Hey -- you've all seen Road Runner cartoons.
Same shit, different day.

Well, the alien ran like a scalded cat, and was never again seen after that,
And the moral of my story's clear and done.
Don't run an auction and don't have the stuff, don't wave a remote and tell me you're tough,
And don't try to be Moonwolf, 'cause he's the only one.

Heeee's... the only one!

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