Human terminology might define M’Grasker as a “band,” however they would be more accurately described as Biological Property of M’Graskorp Unlimited Enterprises and Subsidiaries of the GlanGlan Group. Much of M’Grasker’s DNA was salvaged from the backstage areas and bathrooms of seedy Toronto music venues and transferred via Scienetic Quantum Hurtlage to the M’Graskorp Labs, located just beyond Space and Time (and slightly to the left). The band is legally obligated to be happy to announce their third offering: M’Grasker by M’Grasker, an album scientifically guaranteed to blow domes later this year. 

It’s the night of the big game and you’re hunched o’er vials, flasks, and doo-dads in yonder lab, beholding apparitions in the shimmering concoctions before you. A faint melody tickles your ears from the near-distance of the future–the rustling of M’Grasker. At this locus of the endless cycle, the loveable lads are no more than nearly-human goo, yet to take on the familiar bodies donned in the glistening white suits you’ve fashioned for them in your mind palace.

You stare at the roiling decanter in front of you, fixated on something in the swirling mists. A reflection of the room behind you darts through your awareness. You spin in your gyroseat. There is nothing behind you but the mad scribblings you left there 4 days and 20 hours prior. The lab lights flicker, “I’ve traversed the very fabric of scienetic planes, yet nary have I been quite so addled.” You think to yourself. These hauntings…