Things were winding up at The Bar last Friday night. Open Mic guy was playing his last song to a slowly diminishing crowd. I was glad to see it. I was tired of dealing with drunk people and wanted to go home.
“Do you know any Rascal Flatts songs?” Tipsy Girl at the end of the bar asked.
“Well, I don’t usually do those by myself, because they really sound best with a few people singing harmony.” I have no idea if this is true, not being a fan, but it sounded plausible.
“Oh, I’m not a good singer,” said Tipsy, “but I like to sing.”
“Well you should,” said Open Mic Guy. She continued to protest.
After some shuffling of papers, he started playing the open to “You Were Meant For Me,” aka the single most overplayed song in the Jewel repertoire. Also known as Songs White Girls Like To Sing.
She started out timidly, and in tune. Not bad, I thought.
I hadn’t finished that thought completely when it all started to go downhill. She was right. She wasn’t a good singer.
After what seemed like thirty agonizing minutes later, she finished the song. Her friends clapped in encouragement. There may have been a whistle, but it could have also been the sound of an angel dying in heaven.
“You should practice and definitely sing next week,” encouraged Open Mic Guy. I can only assume he did this so that he’d have one less song to play in his set, because on Friday nights, as far as I know anyway, we aren’t trying to wake the dead from the nearby cemetery.
She turned to me as I was wiping down the taps. “Do you think I should?” she asked.
I froze. I thought of my duty to mankind and music. I wondered if her banshee singing would set The Apocalypse in motion. Was that in Revelation somewhere? All of those religion classes in school, and I can’t remember a damn thing when it’s important.
Of course, I did what any other desperate bartender would do to get people in the door and spending money. “Oh yeah, you were great,” I lied. You should come back next Friday and drink, I mean, sing.
“Well, okay, I’ll be back next week!” She finished off her beer and headed out with her friends. It was all the encouragement she needed, it seemed.
She did leave me $5. I wonder if it’s enough to buy earplugs.
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I like the writing – hilarious …
” There may have been a whistle, but it could have also been the sound of an angel dying in heaven.”
“…we aren’t trying to wake the dead from the nearby cemetery.”
rofl – seriously!
PS: That lady might be my missing half – at least when it comes to singing…