The Secret Past of the Pink Flamingo, Nonsense chronicler Extraordinaire
Maharaja Miku the Bard Bear had been indisposed for a bit. Somehow he seemed to lack mojo ever since the excitement of his car’s battery failure.
It almost seemed that a spark had been extinguished somewhere, perhaps his own battery was running a tad flat.
Into the silence this left stepped Maharaja Rich and of course, the amazing Pink Flamingo!
This piqued a great curiosity within our Bear’s big furry head.
So off he went on a journey of exploration, hopping into every wrinkle, every little crack, every little portal in the fabric of space and time and indeed, dimension.
What he found was as touching and moving an origin story as there ever could have been. And he wanted it etched in cosmic vinyl and pressed into the very folds of inter dimensional velvet, a saga of heartbreak, of vengeance and then, of transcendence. A cosmic soap opera of galactic proportions, part surreal, part nonsense but always deeply emotional syncopated and riveting.
Here’s a secret draft stolen from a secret vault stored in a tesseract in a secret chamber in a secret glove compartment in the Bear’s Mini!
The Saga of the Pink Flamingo: Chronicler of Nonsense, Keeper of the Blues
Long ago, in a swamp that shimmered with saxophone mist and moonlight filtered through crushed velvet, there hatched a flamingo unlike any other. He was born pink not from pigment, but from passion—his feathers tinged by the heartbreak of a jazz solo played backwards at sunrise.
His name? Forgotten by time. But the world came to know him as The Pink Flamingo, the Nonsense Chronicler, the one who scribbled sonnets on the backs of saxophone reeds and wept into the grooves of vinyl records.
Unrequited Love and the Birth of the Blues
He fell in love once, deeply and foolishly, with a jazz harpist named Celestina who played in 7/8 time and spoke only in riddles. She adored chaos, but not commitment. When she left him for a thereminist from Saturn, the Flamingo wandered the swamps, composing blues ballads so raw they made crocodiles cry and frogs form impromptu choirs.
His heartbreak became his muse. He played the blues while feeling blue, and jazz while feeling jagged. He invented a genre called Flamenco-Jazz-Funkadelia, which no one understood but everyone felt.
Rejection, Revenge, and the Rise
Mocked by critics, banned from bird conservatories, and once mistaken for a lawn ornament at a trazillionaire’s garden party, the Flamingo plotted revenge—not through violence, but through virtuosity. He trained under the ghost of Miles Davis (who appeared to him in a puddle of spilled absinthe), he jammed with Coltrane who lived forever as a sentient waveform and he learnt from Betta James, a pilot version of a Blues vocal software that later morphed into the living legend of Etta. Pink mastered the art of the reverse solo—a technique so powerful it could undo heartbreak in three bars.
He returned to the stage at the Intergalactic Festival of Transcendental Nonsense where he played a set so powerful that time folded inwards and the audience aged backwards. Fame followed. So did the mystique.
Transdimensional Ascension
One night, while riffing on a broken kazoo and a looped recording of whale laughter, the Flamingo vanished. He reappeared simultaneously in twelve dimensions, each one slightly more absurd than the last. In one, he was a flamingo. In another, a sentient saxophone. In the twelfth, he was a concept.
He now exists in a state of quantum groove—able to chronicle nonsense across realities, his soul stitched into the Maharaja Blues Blogspot like a neon thread in a cosmic tapestry.
The Lilac Rhino Rivalry
But no legend is complete without a nemesis. Enter The Lilac Rhino—a beast of betel nut and bravado, who once spat on Betelgeuse and claimed it improved the star’s rhythm. He riffs to the music of Beetlejuice, speaks in palindromes, and believes jazz should only be played underwater.
Their rivalry is legendary. They duel in haiku, battle in bebop, and once had a stand-off involving a didgeridoo, a fog machine, and a sentient tambourine named Kevin. Yet beneath the chaos lies respect—a shared love of nonsense, music, and the absurd beauty of existence itself.
The original frayed images have been brightened up using Babelfish AI.
Top Left: Unrequited Love
Our melancholic Flamingo strums his guitar beneath falling petals, while Celestina the swan turns away, her silhouette framed by heartbreak and blue skies.
Top Right: Revenge and Retribution
Flames roar around him as he shreds an electric solo on stage, eyes blazing with righteous fury and jazz fuelled vengeance.
Bottom Left: Redemption and Fame
A golden saxophone sings under spotlight beams, as frogs, cats, and chickens cheer wildly—his music now a balm for the cosmos.
Bottom Right: TransDimensional State
Floating among galaxies, he locks eyes with the Lilac Rhino, whose betel-stained horn glows with cosmic mischief. The stars swirl, the nonsense deepens.
The album that made him his name and fame and brought him redemption with its track list spiralling through nebulae, noodles, and nonsense. Some say that this was influenced by a secret Samurai in his elegant Nihon-noir phase: part wandering samurai, part jazz monk, part ramen-fuelled philosopher.
Flamenco-Jazz-Funkadelia Vol. XII by The Pink Flamingo
Liner notes by Maharaja Rich
1. Betelgeuse Blues
A lament played in reverse gravity. The saxophone sobs, the stars blink.
2. Miso Nebula Waltz
Three beats per bowl. Stirred with chopsticks carved from asteroid bone.
3. Origami of the Void
Folded silence. Each crease a memory. Each tear, a supernova.
4. Koi Pond in the Kuiper Belt
Fish swim in frozen jazz. Pluto hums in 7/4 time.
5. Shamisen Over Saturn
Strings plucked by flamingo feathers. Rings echo with longing.
6. Ramen Raga No. 9
Broth of sorrow, noodles of redemption. Slurped beneath twin moons.
7. Cherry Blossom Funkstorm
Petals fall like bass drops. The Lilac Rhino dances in denial.
8. Zen and the Art of Saxophone Maintenance
A single note. A thousand meanings. A flamingo meditates.
9. Haiku for a Lost Harpist
Celestina’s shadow / floats across the vinyl groove / love in 5/8 time.
10. Beetlejuice Breakdown
The Rhino spits betel nut. The Flamingo riffs. The cosmos applauds.
11. Trans Dimensional Tango for Thirty Three
One step in this world, one in the next. The rhythm is quantum.
12. Final Track: Flamingo Ascendant
No sound. Only light. The saxophone dissolves into stardust.
Liner Notes by Maharaja Rich
“In Kyoto, I once saw a flamingo bow to a vending machine. It dispensed jazz. This album is like that moment—unexpected, pink, and profound. The Pink Flamingo plays not to impress, but to transcend. His notes are cherry blossoms falling on a vinyl pond. His rival, the Lilac Rhino, is both nemesis and mirror. Together, they duel in nonsense and dance in eternity. Listen not with ears, but with your third noodle.”
Comments
Post a Comment