Remember: What’s not mine, is not mine. The only one of the rock bands mentioned that is mine is Derailed Pig. All the others either exist or existed.

Letters From a Besieged Country 6

Cherries From The Discontinuity

September 8th, 2025

To all our fans,

Unless you’re living under a rock, you know what’s happened to Nu’u Sara. And pretty much the whole fucking world. This kind of cramps our style, especially touring. We’re based in a Republican stronghold. That is where most of our gigs are. Sometimes we’re able to play in Royalist territory, but getting there can be hard, especially since the best route goes through Glock territory, and they and the Republicans demand payola. So touring is difficult, but we try to do it. You all need your gigs, your music, your entertainment.

We have upcoming gigs in Royalist, Republican, Glock, and Commonwealth territory. We also have an evening next month at the Fabioula in the South Docklands. We regret that we must deprive those areas that Al-Harb controls, because they hate music. They’re all mental patients. And in Glock territory, we have to substitute some of our songs with covers, of Philip Glass. We’re quite frankly sick of this shit. The Beatles never had to put up with this. Lennon never paid half his gig money to cross town. Neither did their rivals, the Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger was never told to turn around at some stupid border crossing, and have his fans wait for hours before being told. That band that played at the Stones’ farewell concert, Telefauna, they didn’t have this shit in their face either. Their drum machines (HA!) and keyboards never had any “crossing tax” stamped on it, nor were any of their songs banned. Or even that band that did the North American tour with them, Derailed Pig. Mr. Ai’a’ive was never told to avoid part of town filled with Al-Harb.

Don Woodman, our Ace of Bass (-guitar, that is) gives his heart to the fans, and wants this all resolved as soon as possible. The only thing that’s supposed to be low is his playing.

Fitu Ai’a’ive, the drummist (you have a drummer, we have a drummist), is beyond annoyed at what’s going on, it’s cramping his style, and all the frequent shooting is not only bad, it has no rhythm!

Marla Barbican, our lead guitarist, says she can’t wait for all the other forces to leave. They’re lousy tippers, and they always sit by the stage and puff away on cigars.

Sancho O’Brien on the keys is “¡muy pissed!” about it. He promises that there’ll be a super gig, as soon as the Enega Warriors return and kick ass.

Finally, horn/backup guitarist Jeremy “The Bear” Taylor. He’s been holding the Cherries together, because there’s almost a threat that we’ll be discontinued.

We want to thank you, our fans, for putting up with this shit, and it’s hitting you worse than us.

Signed,

Don, Fitu, Marla, Sancho, and Jeremy.

Author’s Note: Well, I just thought I’d fire off another letter. Scenes of life in a divided city.