What's a "god-poof" fantasy? It's one of those unlikely-ever-really-to-happen longform "jokes" that ends with god, or the main character, disappearing into nowhere (the ultimate unlikelihood).
This one happens to involve a one-hit-wonder musician from the 1970s.
Synthesizer performance pioneer Edgar Winter catches a time-jump and finds himself 25 years in the future. He happens upon someone he thinks is the A&R guy who was his label "contact" in the 1970s. (Actually it's his son who, instead of being a lazy, smarmy, slick and manipulative git, is instead a widely-read pop & rock critic whose speciality is the music of the 1970s.)
Winter ventures to ask this fellow, "How am I doing on the charts nowadays, Bruce?" The man, whose name is quite definitely not Bruce, takes umbrage at being referred to by this relic with his father's name, and pointedly replies, "You're nowhere, and no wonder. The one song virtually everybody knows you by, 'Frankenstein,' is far more memorable for its guitar, bass, percussion and brass riffs than any of your bits. Your synthesizer 'performance,' if you can call it that, was merely an unnecessary layer of ear-splitting ornament on what was otherwise a perfectly tolerable dance cut."
Winter, his face turning red (as if anyone would notice an albino with a reddened puss), grits his teeth and counts to three. He snarls, "Well, I suppose I'm just not appreciated here, then," and vanishes.
Take what you like and leave the rest.
BZT
