Threat.Meet.Protocol

Scowling Wolf
Human Ashtray

Scowlin Wolf was busy as always tending to his Katikati farm. The crows and rabbits had been making evil with his vegetable patch so he was erecting a small fence around the perimeter of his garden to keep them filthy marmots out. He had just fixed the last of the no8 wire needed when he noticed that each was made of a slightly different gauge. For some reason he decided to pluck at them. They resonated. He plucked again. They sounded tuneful. He continued to pluck. He wrote some songs. He played and he played. His nose got quite burnt. And then. From down in the valley a banging set forth. At first slow and primal but soon a full cacophony of noise erupted as the unknown drummer savagely hit whatever he could find from old oil drums to tractors and his wife. They jammed and they jammed. Katikati came alive with the farmers and kinfolk stopping, sitting on their porches rocking in their rocking chairs while drinking some moonshine and knitting a sweater or two for their nephews who are also their uncles and brothers and sons and dads…

When they could physically play no more they stopped. Each headed for where the noise had emanated from. Finally they met. Hands were squeezed tight and shaken in a manly fashion. “Hi yee, I’m Farmer Wolf and who might you be friend?”…..”Well neighbour, I am the Human Ashtray the to-baccy farmer from down in the gully but everyone just calls me Cousin Ashtray”….”Pleased to make your acquaintance Cousin Ashtray, I did just mightily enjoy that wee jamboree that we just had. We should do it again…” And they did…

Threat.Meet.Protocol. since that fateful day have been playing their brand of 2 piece hardcore bluegrass at sold out ho downs in barns across the country from Katikati to Greymouth to Masterton to Gore to rabid audiences of gap toothed, inbred, knee slappin’ hillbilly hicks. They love ‘em like they love their cousins. Now Threat.Meet.Protocol is coming for you…

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