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Led Zeplin Lives on.

Walking toward the light, you hear the muted din of distant rock music. You think you recognise the tune, but can't remember where you've heard it before.

Suddenly, hairy old man stumbles into your path, falling to the ground drunkenly. "Agh!", he screams, before falling at your feet.

Walking further on, you can see people dancing around a fire. Is this some Satanic ritual?, you wonder, visions of cheap direct-to-video movies flashing through your head. Some drunken, drug-laced orgy?

At that moment, as your mind tries to decide between prurient curiosity and prudent distance, a strange man appears before you. Greetings", he intones. "I am Zeplin. Led Zeplin." His name clearly isn't the only strange thing about him ... his dark hair is long and shaggy on one side and a closely-cropped blue dye job on the other. His other features are almost too hideous to look at ... but after your ordeal, you're just happy not to be alone.

Written by Dano (edited by wanderer)

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