Larry
Cook wasn't born in Promiseville. And if he was
we wouldn't know. There's no such thing as a
registry office in Promiseville, and they
couldn't care less. Very few people are actually
born there.
We do know that at the age of four Larry got
himself a violin from his Aunt Mimi, who now
admits she was hoping to annoy his parents a
bit. Soon it became clear however that a
musician slumbered in the young lad. And so at
the age of four-and-one-day Larry woke up in the
middle of Promiseville and joined a brass band.
The violin, being of very little use in a brass
band was - quite accidentally - dropped and
Larry turned to the parade drum.
Now
in his forty's, he's widely considered to be a
virtuoso on the damn thing (needless to say Aunt
Mimi was happy after all). Since time out of
mind Promiseville has been flooded with painters
and poets, trapeze artists, refrigerator
raiders, seekers for the Grail, ex-husbands,
communists from Italy, recording executives,
drummers and such forsaken talents as there are.
But at one point it had also begun to attract a
host of deep voiced story-telling troubadours -
or singer/songwriters - who, dreaming of a life
of sin on the road, came looking for a gig in
Promiseville. To this day nobody seems to know
why that was, although at the time some of them
claimed they were actually led by a star.
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