BONG TV ROCKS

  How the Grinch Stole Christmas – Again A High Holiday Adventure It was supposed to be a quiet Christmas Eve . Santa was three cookies deep before he realized something was… different . Not bad different. Floaty different. The reindeer looked extra fluffy. The stars were vibing. And Mrs. Claus ’ fruitcake suddenly made sense. That’s when Santa giggled. Santa never giggled. The Setup The Grinch didn’t steal Christmas that year. He elevated it. He’d slipped Santa a batch of “special” cookies—green frosting, subtle skunk aroma, labeled “From Whoville PTA ” . Santa didn’t question it. You eat enough strange baked goods in a single night, you stop asking. Within minutes, Santa was philosophizing about time, bells, and whether chimneys were a social construct. That’s when the Grinch made his move. The Hijack “Listen, big guy,” the Grinch said, already buckled into the sleigh. “What if… instead of left at Greenland … we just kept going?” San...

  The Case of the Missing Red Stripes A Stoner Christmas Mystery A Budville Mystery Theater Original Nobody noticed at first. That’s how these things always start. It was December 23rd, the kind of cold that makes the smoke hang in the air like a bad decision. I was posted up in the back room of Benny’s Bodega & Tree Lot, rolling something medicinal and pretending not to listen to Bing Crosby for the fifth hour straight. That’s when I saw it. A candy cane. White. Minty. Clean. Too clean. No red stripes. I checked another. Same thing. Then another. Whole damn box looked like it had been bleached by the Ghost of Christmas Sobriety. I knew then—this wasn’t a supply chain issue. This was a job . Scene One: The Evidence Candy canes don’t just lose their stripes. Red’s not decorative—it’s structural. Tradition. Balance. The sweet meets the sharp. Yin meets yang. Without red, it’s just a breath mint with a hook. Someone had stripped the stripes. ...

PART IV — EPISODE III½: Rise of the Harmonic Order Rise of the Harmonic Order Chapter 3 — Ella & the Silver Harmonica The junk dunes of Rustville were quiet — too quiet — as Ella Tonewalker crouched beneath the skeletal ribs of a crashed ore hauler. Wind hissed through the metal shards like the wreck itself was whispering warnings. Rigs peered over her shoulder, servo-eyes flickering nervously. “You hear that?” he buzzed. Ella nodded. She felt it. A pressure behind her sternum. A faint warmth in her palms. A shimmer under her skin, like her bones were remembering a song she’d never been taught. The harmonica . It sat in her lap, silver and soft as moonlight, humming like it wanted to speak. “I don’t think it’s a normal instrument,” Rigs said. Ella scoffed. “No shit.” The Revealing Note She lifted it to her lips. The air buzzed — the entire scrapyard holding its breath. “Ella…” Rigs warned. “I know,” she said. “But I think it wants me to.” She blew. Just one...

  PART IV — EPISODE III½: Rise of the Harmonic Order Chapter 2 — The Summoned One "The Rift Above" The rift above Delta Low widened until it swallowed half the sky — a jagged slash glowing with spectral blues that bled into ultraviolet flame. Lightning cracked inside it like someone was tuning a god-sized amplifier with a broken jack cable. Every animal on the moon went silent. Every machine stuttered. Every living thing felt its bones hum. Blind Yoda Slim steadied himself on the porch rail of his creaking hover-chair. “Easy now…” he muttered, dobro already in his lap. “Come on out and show yourself.” The light inside the rift folded. Collapsed. Re-formed… …into a silhouette. Tall. Angular. Dripping static like molten chrome. Then it stepped through. The Summoned One Its feet hit the ground with a bass thud that shook dust into spirals. Its body shimmered — part machine, part shadow, part crackling distortion. But its face… Its face wasn’t a face at al...

PART IV — EPISODE III½: Rise of the Harmonic Order Chapter 1: The Echo Storm Galactic Crossroads: EPISODE III½: Rise of the Harmonic Order — Chapter 1: The Echo Storm The galaxy did not fall silent all at once. It began with a hum — faint, brittle, like a dying filament buzz inside an amp that hadn’t been used in decades. Then the hum grew teeth. Across the spiral arms of the Orion Sector , starports flickered. Planetary comm-towers shuddered. Holo-feeds glitched into static that twisted into screaming chords with no source . Pilots abandoned their cockpits, clutching their ears. Droids folded in half like stunned insects. Even gravity hiccupped on smaller moons, pulsing in time with an unseen beat. Word spread fast: THE ECHO STORM HAD RETURNED. A cosmic feedback wave — born from the same ancient frequency that once birthed the Blues Force — now warped space, bending reality like a cheap speaker cone held too close to the sun. Only one person knew what it meant. Blind Y...

🎬 Episode II½: The Phantom Mojo A Psy-Fry Theater Original From Darkside Studio — Welcome to the Dark Side of the Mind 🌌 PROLOGUE — When the Mojo Slept Legends say the Mojo Spirit — the living soul of the Blues Force — once pulsed in every honest riff across the galaxy. It was the ache behind heartbreak ballads, the fury in stormborn solos, the tenderness in a midnight slide. But after Mojo DuPree’s final showdown with Count Syncro, the Spirit simply... quieted. Not gone. Not dead. Just sleeping, like a dragon under the Delta. And without it, the galaxy forgot how to feel . Worlds turned gray. Songs turned safe. People worked, ate, slept, and scrolled without ever realizing a part of them was missing. The only ones who remembered were the Twelve Bar Council — dwindling blues warriors who had retreated into exile, waiting for a sign the Mojo would rise again. They waited decades. And then, on a dust-choked mining planet called Rustville , the galaxy trembled. Rustvil...

Tonight on BONG TV ROCKS PSY-FRY THEATER  Attack of the Posers Movie Poster 🎤 Episode I½: Attack of the Posers (and Pedal Boards) “When the groove fades, the posers rise.” (From Darkside Studio — Welcome to the Dark Side of the Mind) They say the Blues was never meant to be easy. But when the galaxy got hooked on shortcuts, holo-fame, and pre-packaged perfection, the groove didn’t just twist — it got cheapened. Long after Mojo DuPree first lit the spark of the Blues Force , the music spread across worlds… but not always in the way the old masters dreamed. The Techno Federation had collapsed, sure — but its shadow lingered in the neon guts of Chorusonic City , where the factories ran day and night. Inside those chrome labyrinths, the AutoTune Droids worked without mercy, churning out perfect imitations of imperfect men: the Posers — hollow musicians built not from soul, but from presets. Every note flawless. Every lick sterile. Every performance the same, because ...