DCV - Busted, Broken and Mundane Clones
This comedic sea shanty opens with layers of low, droning voices discussing spreadsheets over a warbling, tinny fast-food intercom sample. Stomping, off-kilter percussion enters as Captain Bart grumbles with gravelly resignation. Accordion and battered concertina cut through the dullness, echoing the repetitive, disjointed movements of the crew of malfunctioning clones. Discordant group vocals and rhythmic banging escalate tension; each verse details more chaotic clone behavior over clattering buckets and off-pitch vocal chants. The harmony grows purposely off-balance, culminating as the Captain’s desperation peaks—cacophonous stomping and yells—before cutting to stark silence, a defeated sigh, and robotic, monotone repetitions of “I just wanted to be alone.”
DCV - Busted, Broken and Mundane Clones
This comedic sea shanty opens with layers of low, droning voices discussing spreadsheets over a warbling, tinny fast-food intercom sample. Stomping, off-kilter percussion enters as Captain Bart grumbles with gravelly resignation. Accordion and battered concertina cut through the dullness, echoing the repetitive, disjointed movements of the crew of malfunctioning clones. Discordant group vocals and rhythmic banging escalate tension; each verse details more chaotic clone behavior over clattering buckets and off-pitch vocal chants. The harmony grows purposely off-balance, culminating as the Captain’s desperation peaks—cacophonous stomping and yells—before cutting to stark silence, a defeated sigh, and robotic, monotone repetitions of “I just wanted to be alone.”
Lyrics
Intro Music: A low, rumbling, and deeply weary sea shanty, with an accordion that plays a tired, repetitive melody.
Host: Captain Bart Blueheart (gravelly voice, sounds deeply exhausted and resigned, holding a half-empty glass)
SOUND of a record scratch followed by the low, monotonous hum of multiple voices talking about spreadsheets and a faint, distorted sound of a fast-food drive-thru speaker.
[Captain Bart] Ahoy there, me fellow sufferers of the mundane. Captain Bart Blueheart here, and I'm not gonna lie, tonight’s tale is a special kind of hell. You see, I was tasked with transporting cargo that no captain should have to deal with: humans. Well, cloned humans, specifically. And not the new ones, mind you. These were used, busted, and poorly performing models. They were mostly clones of office workers and fast-food teenagers, all with no OFF switch. And I was stuck listening to them talk about their faulty behaviorisms for three solid days.
The clones were a proper mess. The office worker clones kept trying to organize all the ship's nuts and bolts into color-coded spreadsheets that didn’t exist. One of them, a lanky fella, kept trying to file an expense report on a bulkhead, and another one kept trying to staple me left boot to the floor. The fast-food teenager clones, bless their little hearts, just kept talking about the latest promotional deal, trying to get me to "upgrade" me grog to a "cosmic combo meal." I tried everything to get them to stop. I tried to talk to them, I tried to yell at them, and I even tried to hide the coffee. Nothing worked.
I couldn't take it anymore! I handed the helm over to Barnaby, my little Quarbadger. "You got this, little fella," I told him. "I trust you with me life and me ship. I just… I need some peace and quiet." Barnaby, being the best first mate a captain could ask for, gave me a salute and got to work, with his little paws on the rudder. He's a proper genius, that one. I stomped to my quarters, my sanctuary, a place where a captain can get a bit of solitude. I locked the door behind me, sighed a proper sigh of relief, and took a deep breath. But as me eyes adjusted to the dim light of me cabin, I saw it. Me bed. Someone was in it. And it wasn't me! It was another one of the office worker clones, lying there with his eyes wide open, humming a terrible, monotonous tune. "I just wanted to be alone," he said in a whisper. I just about lost it. "Get out of here, clone!" I yelled. I'm telling you, a man's gotta have some place to himself!
SOUND of a gentle sigh and a clink of a glass
After the break, we'll talk about that time me old pal Louann tried to sell me a moon. But first, a word from the folks who make sure you get a break from the mundane.
SOUND of upbeat, slightly cheesy jingle music starts up, with the sound of a horn honking and a car engine revving
[Fake Advertisement] Are you stuck with a crew of unmotivated, constantly-talking clones? Do you need a place to find a little peace and quiet? You need Solo-Space! Our patented technology will transport your mind to a beautiful, serene world where you can relax! Solo-Space! Because every captain deserves a little alone time!
Jingle music fades out abruptly, followed by a defeated sigh from Captain Blueheart
[Captain Bart] Heh. Solo-Space. A man can only dream.