"Craig Shaw Gardner - Cineverse 3 - Revenge of the Fluffy Bunnies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

And Roger realized the plot had to get moving, soon. He heard the sound of tuning
guitars on the makeshift stage the surfers had set up on the beach. That meant it was
almost time for more beach-party music. And music had a special power in the
Cineverse—movie magic, Louie called it—a musical power that could make you
want to spend the rest of your life in this seaside paradise. Bix Bale and the Bell-
tones—with their red- and white-striped shirts and modified Beatle haircuts—would
soon play yet another song extolling the virtues of sun, sand, and surfing, with
perhaps some references to blond beach bunnies thrown in. And, once the music
really started, all plans would be forgotten as everyone began to dance!

Roger wasn't as afraid of the power of movie magic as he had been. He had, after all,
conquered that great wave, the Cowabungamunga, through his own use of surfing
song. But there was no time to delay, and—once the music began—there was no way
to tell how long the surfing beat's subversive force might keep them under its sway.
He had to use the Captain Crusader Decoder Ring he clutched in his hand to get his
allies out of here. But where should they go next? Shouldn't somebody who'd been
appointed Captain Crusader know this sort of thing?

And, besides that, one of the surfers was running straight toward him.

"Roger Dodger!" Brian called. His usual, creaseless surfer's face was wrinkled by a
frown. "Something's going wrong! It's Frankie!"

He pointed to the stage.

"Oh, no," Big Louie added in horror. "Not this. Anything but this!"

Roger's mouth opened as he turned to the stage. Bix Bale and the Belltones had
changed. They no longer sported the surfer look. Instead, their dark hair was cut and
plastered to their heads, and they wore white polyester suits, with dark ruffled shirts
open to the navel to reveal the dozens of gold chains that crisscrossed their chests.
And their former surfing buddy Frankie—dressed just like the band—strode in front
of them.

Roger had seen all of this someplace before.

“Frankie!'' Brian insisted. "You can't do this, Frankie!''

"Hit it guys!" Frankie called in reply.

The music was different, only vaguely rock and roll. Oh, not that there wasn't a
drumbeat. No, the drum was much louder than Roger had ever heard it in surf songs.
It was right up in front of the music, very heavy, and very regular, almost too regular,
as if the beat were being produced by a machine.

The music swelled. All Roger could see was the four-piece rock band. Where were
those violins coming from, anyway?

Then Frankie started to sing.