The Miet-Box at the End of the Lane

At the end of Pauskil Lane lies an empty lot. Cracked asphalt and concrete slabs hint at the bunkers that once occupied the parcel.
  Over the years various musical clenches used the bunkers for their hersall prep. Some notables: Mr Garge and his Barmherzigland brethren, Otto’s Ilýsion Pedía, Mook Matar, Vaqueras Llorando — even the ’Nuts honed their tecnik there within the breeze-block chambers.
  Mr Wrymouth, who rented out the bunkers, was a rare sight — unless he saw people there he thought he could Save (assuming no one save himself had ever heard Good News). But he just had the structures torn down one day for no apparent reason. (Well, their proximity to the seedy Vistaparque council flats must’ve been at least one reason.) Even Mr Garge’s adjacent teleball rink was repurposed as a car park for the art school extension.
  It’s all gone now, but if you listen closely you can still hear the strains of “Pink Pudding,” “Donne de la Vigueur à Mon Âme,” and “Me Siento como Freddi”. That, and the sound of a ’60’s TV console being shattered by a makeshift teleball javelin.