Accompanied by his trusty guide, he seeks out a very remote locale for researching the mating behaviour of the giant rat of Sumatra.
Around dusk of the first day, he's sitting by the campfire with his guide when in the distance, he hears tribal drums.
They get louder.
The guide announces, "I don't like the sound of those drums."
The dusk turns evening. The drums get louder.
The guide says, "I really don't like the sound of those drums."
Evening turns to dead of night.
The drums get louder and louder, until it is obvious that the drummers must be quite close.
The guide says again, "I really don't like the sound of those drums."
Suddenly the drums stop, and a voice from the darkness cries out, "Hey man, he's not our regular drummer!"
He flew there, found a guide with a canoe to take him up the river to the remote site where he would make his collections.
About noon on the second day of travel up the river they began to hear drums.
Being a city boy by nature, the anthropologist was disturbed by this.
He asked the guide, "What are those drums?"
The guide turned to him and said "Drums OK, but VERY BAD when they stop."
Then, after some hours, the drums suddenly stopped!
This hit the anthropologist like a ton of bricks, and he yelled at the guide: "The Drums have stopped, what happens now?"
The guide crouched down, covered his head with his hands and said, "Bass Solo".
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