Something's Wrong Somewhere
Red was originally a particle physicist whose job was to develop emission control devices for the Malfeasian Fleet's lepton drives. As most everyone knows this type of work exposes beings to hazordous emissions. This resulted in Red developing physical and mental changes. These changes, namely a forty point drop in I.Q. and multiple appendages, left Red taking on the exact characteristics of the Malfeasian ruling class. The Malfeasians, being no different than any other race, took exception to this and decided to get rid of Red at the first opportunity. This opportunity occurred in 1993, when the Malfeasians were testing one of Red's designs near the vicinity of Earth. Test vessels are stripped down versions of regular fleet ships, -[when they crash you don't loose as much money]-, and have no facilities. So when Red needed to make a pit stop the crew landed in rural Oregon and let him out to take care of business. Of course when he came out of the brush the test vessel was gone. Red was stranded in Oregon. Now as with most stories there are good and bad news parts. The main good news about Red being stranded in Oregon was, no one would take notice of his multiple appendages. The main bad news was, Red left his ID aboard the ship. This of course meant getting a beer and a job were pretty much out of reach. (No pun intended.) Things were looking pretty dismal for Red at this point and depression soon set in. This depression combined with the ruling class deffects led Red to attempt malfeasicide. Malfeasicide is not easy, especially on this planet, so Red had his work cut out for him. (No pun intended.) The most painless way was determined to be throwing *hisself off a cliff or other abyss which involved a fall of at least 2000 feet. (Due to technical details beyond the scope of this web document we won't go into why at least 2000 feet were required. Simply put, Malfeasins cannot reach 'terminal' (no pun intended) velocity in earth's weak gravitational field at any height less than 2000 feet.) Other options were considered and the only way Red could actually commit malfeasicide at his present location was to walk his sorry Malfeasian behind out of the brush, quickly find a certain FFR (fast food restaurant) and eat a sandwich named after an earth personal computer. Sure, the pain would be excruciating but what else could Red do. This was easily acomplished, -[Those FFR's are like blackberries. No matter how many times you destroy them they keep growing back in even more locations than the original ones]- and just five minutes after ingesting the poison Red was writhing in agony all over creation. Now most humans have never seen a Malfeasian writhing in agony, especially one with a ruling class appearance. You can just imagine what the populace in that rural Oregon town saw. Or at least what they thought they saw. (Yes I Know. This biographer stated before that a multiple appendaged Malfeasian wouldn't be noticed in Oregon but we're talking 'writhing in agony' here.) Red was bouncing, jerking, convulsing, knocking over trash cans and parking meters. -[Yep, even the boonies have 'em]. Red destroyed multiple road signs, crushed four dogs, including a huge St. Bernard, destroyed three acres of plants, grass and shrubs before finally winding up in the middle of the main street. Unfortunately at this same time a logging truck driven by a particularly nasty dispositioned individual, -[former math professor]-, was headed in Red's direction. Seeing the multiple appendaged Malfeasian wirthing in agony in the middle of the road, the trucker at once thought he saw a giant inside out tarantula. He made a bee line for 'it' and had it not been for a group of migrating musicians heading for Portland the world would have surely lost Red. The migrating musicians formed a human chain across the street in front of the oncoming logging truck. The trucker, having been conditioned all his life by Oregon naturalists and whale savers, immediately stopped the the truck in the middle of the street and cell phoned the Forest Service. In the mean time and fortunately for us, one of the migrating female musicians, having had experience with writhing in agony Malfeasians, -[She was from New Mexico]-, went to work at saving Red's life. Judging correctly that this was a malfeasicide attempt in rural Oregon she knew she had to get a poisonous FFR personal computer named sandwich out of Red's system. She immediatley sang an aria from the rock opera Tommy and sure enough Red 'let it all hang out.' If you thought the convulsions were bad from the ingestion you should have witness these convulsions. The remaining parking meters, four more acres of plants and several farm animals were destroyed before Red was expunged. Also he had tore off all but four of his appendages. Fortunately the remaining appendages were in such positions that Red would look just like any earther as soon as his skin grew back. Too make a long story somewhat shorter this biographer will now be succint. (For those of you who are wondering where the local police were during all of this, a simple explanation is in order. The week prior to Reds misery they had been donated a brand new BR (battering ram) by a group of altruistic distillery owners. Peace officers get real excited when they get a new toy and jump at the first chance to try it out. This chance occurred when they were invited by federal agents to attend a raid of some sort in Cleveland, Ohio. Naturally they boarded the first flight they could get and were on site in no time. They were of course quickly heart broken when they saw the size of the federal battering rams. Miserable and dejected they abandoned their brand new BR in the motel room they were staying at, quit their jobs and were never heard from again.) After surving his malfeasicide attempt, Red joined the friendly migrating musicians. While traveling North with this band Red was cured of his malfeasicidal depression by the same lovely girl who had saved his life. (It turned out she had a doctorate in Malfeasian pyschology.) As a result Red fell in love with her. She didn't reciprocate. This combined with the fact Red couldn't get a job nor beer left him with no choice but to become a musician. (At least being a musician got him some beer). Now eight years later you can hear the results. Just go to Red's music page and have a listen. The story of Red's run in with other musicians and how the band and recordings came together will be told in their bios and future pages. * hisself is perfectly acceptable grammar in Malfeasian society.