Later in the afternoon Doc drifted up to the Tree Section to bis Aunt Reet's place, where he found his cousin Scott Oof out in the garage with his band. Scott had been playing with a local group known as the Corvairs, till half of them decided to join the northward migration of those years up to Humboldt, Vineland, and Del Norte. Scott, to whom redwoods were an alien species, and Elfmont, the drummer, decided to stay on at the beach and went around sticking up ads on different school bulletin boards till they'd assembled this new band, which they called Beer. Playing mostly covers in bar gigs around the area, Beer were now actually almost paying their rent month to month.
At the moment they were rehearsing, or today actually trying to learn the correct notes to, the theme from the TV western The Big Valley, which had recently gone into reruns. The shelves of the garage were lined with jars of purple pork rind, sure-fire bait for the depraved reservoir bass Aunt Reet went off periodically to Mexico after and came back with the trunk full of. Doc wasn't sure, but in the dimness the stuff always appeared to be glowing.
Beer's front man Huey was singing, while the rhythm guitar and bass filled in behind him,
"The ... Big ...
BIG Valley! [Same guitar fill]
How big, is it, well go, visit sometime ...
Ride all night, till,
The Big Valley! Yes! Even more-of- the
Big Valley! no place to score in- the
Big Valley! big? that's for sure, it's- the