The Bewitching Triology in 4 Parts - Part 4
The Chapati Cataclysm of Cardiff : Bass-Laced Ballad in Anti-Griddle Time
It began with a burp in the fabric of fate,
A Son House riff slipped past the quantum gate.
The Witch Panda’s brew, still bubbling with blues,
Sent a glitch through time with improbable cues.
Miku the Bear, in his lab of delight,
Had built the Chapati Collider just right
To fold flatbreads through wormholes with flair,
And serve them hot in dimensions rare.
But the glitch struck hard, with a syncopated bang,
And the collider coughed out a nano particle gang.
Zillions of anti chapatis burst forth in a flash,
Each one programmed for a Cardiff curry clash.
They zipped down City Road with a sizzling hiss,
Seeking chapatis to neutralise in bliss.
Curry houses trembled, naan fled in fear,
As chutney shields melted and samosas disappeared.
“It’s a culinary apocalypse!” cried a chef in despair,
“The breads are unbaking right out of thin air!”
Miku, majestic in his bass grooved coat,
Heard the chaos and cleared his throat.
He summoned his deepest, most intricate line
A sub harmonic groove so low, it bent space time.
His bass throbbed through alley and street,
A rhythm so rich it made anti chapatis retreat.
He played in 7/11, in funkadelic rage,
Each note, a seal on the quantum cage.
The glitch still flickered, the blues still moaned,
But Cardiff was saved, its curry zones honed.
And Miku, the Bear, with paws of groove,
Restored the chapati’s rightful move.
Maharaja Miku, the Bassist Bear, stood defiantly beneath the glowing arches of Cardiff’s Millennium Centre, summoning seismic grooves to seal the anti chapati storm.
His bass pulsed with a radiant green energy, each note a sonic shield against the swirling discs of doughy doom.
The anti chapatis orbited him like rogue satellites, caught in the gravitational pull of his groove. His crown gleamed, his robe billowed, and the inscription “IN THESE STONES HORIZONS SING” seems to echo his rhythm, as if the building itself had joined his jam of desperation.
This is no ordinary gig—it’s a bass-powered salvation.
Where bread unbakes and bass redeems,
The Bear shall groove through glitch-born dreams.
Unfortunately the glitch though temporarily tamed was unstable and kept returning.
This ebb and flow of order and disorder created a whole new branch of chaos theory and non liner dynamics.
Prof Braingrows was called upon by the desperate bear and together they tried their best to fix things.
The Pink Flamingo reported on this after battle in his Nonsense Chronicle, the issue outselling any other in inter dimensional history.
Finally, a simple solution was found, an infinity looper pedal that played the groove forever keeping the Collider from unleashing its anti chapatis.
Cardiff was saved and the WAG wagged its collective tail again in the Senedd, a happy end to a sorry tale though a very repetitive one indeed.
Unfortunately it did slightly leave the denizens of South Wales loopy
The Loopy Salvation of Cardiff, a Repetitive Raga in Recursive Funk
Though Miku had grooved with heroic might,
The glitch returned by the stroke of night.
It pulsed through time in fractal disguise,
A rhythm that bent even quantum wise.
Order and chaos began to entwine,
Creating a branch of nonlinear design.
Prof Braingrows, summoned from his cave of chalk,
Arrived with equations too weird to talk.
“This isn’t just bread,” he said with a frown,
“It’s a waveform war trying to take Cardiff down.”
Together they plotted, they scribbled, they jammed,
While anti-chapatis continued to slam.
The Millennium Centre grew weary and warped,
As curry houses trembled and chutney jars torqued.
Then came a whisper from the Pink Flamingo’s plume,
Reporting the battle in intergalactic zoom.
His Nonsense Chronicle flew off the shelves,
Outselling tabloids, textbooks, and elves.
“The glitch,” he wrote, “is a groove uncontained
A beat so stubborn it cannot be trained.”
But Miku, the Bear, in a moment divine,
Plugged in a pedal with infinite design.
The Looper of Infinity, forged in funk,
Played the groove forever, no skips, no junk.
It sealed the Collider, it soothed the glitch,
It looped the bassline without a hitch.
Cardiff was saved, the chapatis restored,
The WAG wagged its tail and the Senedd roared.
Yet the groove played on, day after day,
In curry shops, buses, and alleyway clay.
The denizens danced, they twitched, they spun
South Wales had gone loopy, but oh what fun!
The Infinity Looper.
The Infinity Looper Pedal, is enshrined in a glowing curry-scented temple beneath City Road, Cardiff.
It rests atop a golden chapati shaped plinth and it emits a soft static him whilst bustling with eternal groove, casting looping waveforms across incense laced air.
Pilgrims from across dimensions kneel in reverence, while spectral chapatis orbit in rhythmic harmony, each one a reminder of the glitch that nearly unbaked the city.
The temple walls are etched with verses from The Nonsense Chronicle, including Pink Flamingo’s immortal line:
“Loop like you’ll never die, groove like you’ll live forever.”
This relic doesn’t just play music—it contains it, sealing the glitch with recursive funk and saving Cardiff from culinary collapse. Shall we now imagine the Pink Flamingo’s live report from the temple steps, quill ablaze, feathers ruffled, declaring:
“The groove is eternal. The chapatis are safe. South Wales may be loopy, but it loops with love.”
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