I love music, it is my passion. That is why I write for the arts section here at the Dirty Bird. I volunteered to cover the Tweeties’ show at the Majestic Theatre this past Saturday. Their pop-punk sound coupled with their chirpy vocals have garnered praise throughout the community, so I was excited to get to cover this band.

Only problem was, well, I sat down in my seat at the very back of the balcony and their first note put me to sleep.

At first, a harmonious blend of lime and orange swirled around behind my eyelids, perhaps stemming from the Cheesy Gordita Crunch and Baja Blast Freezie I had just consumed at the five-star Taco Bell Cantina. I felt a deep sense of joy at this image, reminiscing about what once was in my esophagus and what now circling in my small intestine.

Suddenly, these colors split open like a curtain, unveiling the rich landscape of the African savannah. Hyenas wandered past me as they sang the somber tones of Toto’s “Africa,” which I heard from my friend Timmy that the Tweeties did an amazing cover of that was accompanied by stimulated rain and a laser light show. I wish I could review that, but the nature calls of the gentle lion were murmuring to be in my sleep.

A friendly meerkat named Scoopie gave me a hearty bowl of custard to aid me on my journey forward through the savannah, adding a basis of social support at the backbone of my dream. I came upon a spooky haunted house, similar to Memorial Union but painted in hot pink. Turning pale with dread, this spooky figure added a dimension of mortality to my dream.

Ten thousand fiery llamas spun around a circle praising a lone yellow canary they called “Tweety,” who then began a spirited performance of a song. I didn’t recognize it, so perhaps it was actually the strains of The Tweeties cranking out a sassy tune at the Majestic. If it was, it was good! I like music! I think there might have been a saxophone solo, which was played by Buckingham U. Badger in my dream, a stellar display of artistry and technique. I think he’s going to become the next big saxy Badger, or whoever he was.

Faced with a challenging decision to either stay and become a minion of Tweety or go join my pals at the Dirty Bird for a round of Babcock Ice Cream, I decided that ice cream was the way to go and landed from a black hole to the abyss of Smith Hall. Equipped with a Bean and Creamery in this warped world, I immediately settled on the Qdoba flavor in a waffle cone. The taste of this was sublime, serene almost. It was if two guitars struck a chord that was so perfect, it could start world peace. Timmy told me that at this point, towards the end of the concert, the Tweeties performed the best song he’s ever heard. I wish I could tell you the name so you could look it up on Spotify, but I was in creamy Qdoba heaven. Sorry guys!

Now lying in our space pods, my fellow writers and I giggled as we lauded the release of another successful paper. We celebrated with a group limbo tournament, which I won. The final triumph complete, this dream came to a stunning conclusion that will impact me for years to come.

“Hey bro weren’t you supposed to do an in-person interview with the Tweeties for the Dirty Bird?” Timmy remarked as he joussled me up from my slumber thirty minutes after the band had packed the tour bus and left the theatre. I think I was, but truly this depiction of my dream that stemmed out of my slumber will do more for society and the discovery of the continued struggles of man than any band ever will.

I’m currently writing the screenplay for my dream, which should be coming to Union South Movie Night very soon. The Tweeties have an EP coming on Friday, I think?