A Frank Zappa's provolone

Frank Zappa was a gourmet... no, not a gourmand, just a "gourmet" who appreciated la buena mesa.
His tagliatelle pizza a la piedra and ravioli were proverbial, and long queues were seen at his door, people waiting to enter and taste some of his pasta-agapes, which himself cooked and offered in spontaneous meetings.
The neighbors usually attended these gastric orgies, passing by the tubular patios of the Frank's manor, and sinking a bit of bread in the sauce, enjoying a cup of red wine (made by Zappa himself, crushing the grapes with his feet), or nibbling some celestial gruyere, but even people from other states came to see, because the mansion of Frank Zappa turned into a grand and weird restaurant alla italiana, with music played live, mimes, acrobacy, assorted tournaments (archery, machine gun, soccer, darts, ping pong), strippers, stand up comedy and circus freaks eating fire and spades, and no one wanted to miss that marvel of esthetics and savour.

In order to produce these multitudinary banquets, Zappa received and stored edible goods periodically, copious amounts of flour, curd, rivers of olive oil, tons of meat, butter, eggs, tomatoes, onions, varied spices, and especially cheese:

all the imaginable varieties of this noble lacteal aliment were stored at his catacombs, American and imported, French, Spanish, Swiss, Belgian, Dutch, Greek, even English and of course, Italian cheeses were meticulously cataloged and alphabetically accumulated at the vast subterranean crypts of his house, all kept at the exact temperature and humidity, in a sort of insane microweather which was obtained by means of a complicated system of giant ventilators and a machine that emitted steam constantly.

The astonished visitor who was invited to take a walk through those galleries, could admire the caseous splendour shining under a feeble light:
distant Edams, depressed Goudas, suggestive Parmesans, tempting Velveetas, independent Muensters, lascivious Double Gloucesters, curvy Mozzarellas, pale Limburgers, erotic Camemberts, frigid Mar del Plata argentinos, salacious provolettas, obese triple creams, muscular Cheddars, sexual Gruyères, funny Gorgonzolas, dubitative Emmentals, mysterious Havartis, nymphomaniac Roqueforts, athletic Port-saluts, scared Bavarian Blues... a gallery, a real parade of cheeses, too similar to a parade of women (in fact I think that nothing could describe it better).

But the omnipresent cheese, that cheese which reigned supreme over the Frank Zappa's store... it was the piquant and sexy Provolone.

Tons and tons of Provolone were piled at those cellars
and at the kitchen
even at the Zappa's bedroom: he had Provolones under his bed, and in the wardrobe, and on the wardrobe, and under the wardrobe.


Something strange, though, was perceived by the Zappa's corner of the eye one afternoon, while he was preparing a pizzaiolla in the kitchen:

3 Provolones moved?

Zappa thought that, effectively, 3 shiny Provolones laid on a shelf of the ample kitchen moved

he turned his back violently, his alarmed eyes stayed fixed on the yellow cheeses

the cheeses were there, immobile, like cheeses, what the fuck?

Zappa would swear that he noted that the cheeses moved.

He stayed looking at the Provolones for a long while, while he manipulated the dough of the pizzaiolla in the air with prestance and automatic fingle-fangles...




The banquets occurred in the whole mansion of Zappa at the same time, but the most overcrowded room was a violet hall which was decorated by his parents
























Even the Alice Cooper wedding was celebrated there, without light, the full ceremony in infra-red, strange.

Unexpectedly, one night, during a wild female Elvis impersonation in the middle of one of these banquets, Zappa heard a very peculiar and unusual noise coming from his bedroom


Zappa started running to the the room, which was at the 1st floor, but when he was in the middle of the stairs, the door of his room was opened, and a huge cheese man appeared, yellow like a roboto

apparently this ghastly entity was created by an insane accumulation of Provolone's in tight cohesion, which got stuck together spontaneously?
The horrid Provolone man radiates now an ululating noïse that's deafening everybody, please please, someone do something, it's unbearable!

Desperate, Frank Zappa plugs a bass guitar that's laid on a sofa to an exponential Ampeg amplifier, and starts twanging it, to fight the sonic emissions of the humanoid of Provolone with the groovy sound of that Gibson SG standard bass '76.


Now the aural battle is bestial:

while the Frank Zappa's bass makes the walls of the house tremble, the cheese man opens his mouth like a cheese, and starts broadcasting an even more intense noise that's shattering everybody's eardrums





























The tragedy was sure: the sinister monster of cheese was going to leave everybody deaf, and even Frank Zappa was defeated on his knees with his ears bleeding... everything was lost, lost!

Everything?

NO:

from the shadows of the room, a white and huge paladin advanced toward the cheese man, holding a golden Shure microphone in his right hand

it was Meat Loaf

yes, Meat fucking Loaf, who opening his mouth like a celestial meatball, started intonating his highest note, the highest of them all



An aureate and gilded voice emerged and filled the room, in an excessively high-pitched tone that forced the partakers to cover their ears with their hands

the whole vocal discharge of the Meat Loaf's vocal cords was then redirected toward the Provolone man like a sharp and lethal harpoon of sound

the caseous intruder resisted the canorous attack of a furious Meat Loaf with stoicism, until the voluminous paladin of the golden voice started singing the melodramatic lines of "Read 'Em and Weep"

the emotional release that filled the hall was too much for the Provolone felon to stand: his yellow and grumous body started shivering like a quaker in trance and finally exploded, splashing everything and everyone with a cheesy diluvium, but the detonation was so violent that sent everybody to Heaven.

Frank Zappa was substituted with a clone, created by unscrupulous hands* from a hair of his moustache, and no one realized; anyways the clone himself died some few years later, choked with a portion of meat loaf.

On the other hand, Meat Loaf (the man) was substituted with a clone too, created from his left nipple, which was found adhered to a window, and the fraudulent Meat Loaf develops a successful musical career until today...

... because the rock and roll is full of occult events.















*Note. The Frank Zappa's biographer, Diego Capusotto, stated that the Zappa's clone was created by his wife, Putana Albertario, in oder to keep Frank physically with her.
Capusotto suggested that during the cloning, rites of Haitian Voodoo, Cuban Santería and Brazilian Quimbanda were celebrated, and that the fresh clone was offered to a very aggressive and immoral spirit called Exu, sparkling a bottle of rhum (cachaça) on the head of the misfortunate human duplicate, and lighting seven black candles around him.