Friday, May 6, 2011

And now it chills me to the bone ...

Radzo tells me she has a request. "Alone" by Heart. She wants to hear it so bad. Even though I've just recently gotten this song out of my head after, like, months, I concede to re-open the brain flap and let it worm back into my OCD place. For my friend.

But she's got a kind of evil look on her face and I wonder what I'm missing. She's handed a slip over to The Thespian, who is working karaoke. I run through it in my mind and realize that the Wilson sister charged with this oh-geez-have-some-pride ballad goes from key of Marlboro growl to key of horny whale.

I'm not playing the role of Delilah. Radzo is making me her bitch.

And ... I'm up.

"I hear the ticking of the clock," I grunt into the microphone. Shoot a look of panic to The Thespian. He nods. I keep going.

Brief brief brief instrumental.


And I don't have the finest ear for music, but it seems like I'm at least in the same neighborhood as the horny whale. Another nod from The Thespain. This manic part of the song subsides and it's back to the low part, the easy part. I shoot my smuggest eff you look back at Radzo and her fella.

It goes on like that for three vocally bi-polar minutes. Someone waves a lighter. And I finish up by giving Radzo the finger from the stage. Jerk tried to give me polyps. I didn't quite show her, but I got close enough that Radzo loses.

"That song's your Moby Dick," she tells me, referring, of course, to the Kindle version.

By the time I got into my car I was reworking it in my head. Decided get it on a CD stat and practice it in the car. My own personal recording studio filled with year-old leftovers in melted styrofoam containers.

Moby Dick. I'll Moby Dick you, Radzo.

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