Our guitars were tuned. Our amps were cranked to the max. It was time to rock. However, instead of a looking out at a packed house in a seedy dive bar, our band was on the deck of a rickety pirate ship in the middle of the frothing ocean about to open a can of rock-n-roll whup-ass on a giant, ticked-off octopus. Apparently the many-tentacled brute didn’t take too kindly to our decision to pass over his kiddo who’d recently auditioned to be our new drummer