Frank

I don’t have a catchphrase

Instrument: Vocals and Stuff
From: Selden, Kansas
Likes: Whittling, Possums
Dislikes: The Dark, Ninjas, Zombies (in large groups) or any combination thereof

Born into a small town and modest means, Frank always dreamed of entering show business and moving to the big city. His youth found him a straight “B” student, an accomplished whittler and in the possession of an enviable talent of being able to identify specific possums by smell and taste alone (which made him a hot topic at that week’s Town Meeting). This brief flirtation with fame enticed him set his sights on bigger and greater things.

He eventually saved up enough money from his lucrative possum licking business to move south to Austin, Texas where he found temporary employment as a dishwasher in a small, seedy club on the strip. It was in this club “The Armored Armadillo” that Frank was in the right place at the right time, for as luck would have it he ended up right in the middle of a large bar room brawl. The brawl was started when a man by the name of Graveltroat accused another man of cheating at poker as well as the unforgivable offense of wearing what he referred to as a “[expletive] stupid hat”. Graveltroat subsequently began flashing a rather large knife and chaos ensued. The fight between the two men spilled into the kitchen and Frank, backed into a corner and panicking, clubbed the nearest participant with a frying pan, crushing his stupid hat and watching as it spilled its contents of hidden poker cards. According to a statement from the only other person in the kitchen (the cook) Graveltroat then stabbed the man anyhow and as he dragged the body of the poker cheat out the back door and graphically warned both the cook and Frank that if they ever told anyone of what happened or what they saw their organs would promptly be carved out and sold very specifically to African pygmies.

Weeks later, after Frank was promoted to kitchen cook when the original cook disappeared in the night leaving only what appeared to be a hurriedly scrawled note saying something about urgent business in Africa, Graveltroat returned. As a traveling solo bluesman, he offered Frank a job as his roadie and guitar tech because he said “I can [expletive] trust you. If I can’t [expletive] trust you, then I’ll just [expletive] kill you in your sleep.” Frank knew a good offer when heard it, turned in his skillet and hit the road with GT. They traveled across the country playing small gigs and Frank learned the tricks of the trade and found a second calling in life.

When Graveltroat ultimately joined Funkmouf Brown, Frank came along as part of the package. With an assortment of talents and his unique perspective on life, music and possums, the band benefits from his presence.

…especially when they need somebody to go for snacks.