Karoke Love

Karoke Love

“Here’s to my baby!” Ben slid a shot glass of clear liquid over to me with a grin, “I’m so proud of you!”
I took the shot glass and tentatively sniffed. Patron Silver Tequila. “This is so expensive.” I protested weakly, my mouth beginning to water in anticipation.
“We’re celebrating your promotion, damn the costs!” Ben lifted his glass, “On the count of three?”
With a grin I lifted the glass to my lips, “Three!” I downed the tequila, relishing the smooth burn as it made its way down my throat. “You know they have karaoke here, right?” I personally despised the idea of getting up in front of a bunch of drunken strangers and warbling out a song, but Ben liked it and had been pushing me to go to a karaoke bar for months.
Ben’s eyes lit up, and he spun his head towards the stage, “Are you serious?”
“Go! I know you want to.” I encouraged him. I already knew he would sing off key and probably mess up the lyrics but I wasn’t going to stop him from having some fun.
Ben shifted in his chair, “But this is your night.” He put one calloused hand over my own, “What do you want to do?”
“I want you to let me have another shot of Patron and watch you sing.” Truthfully, I didn’t even like being in a bar. Twenty years ago when I was breaking free from a disappointing marriage, I couldn’t stay away from the bars and the nightclubs. The music, the smoke, the dancing.. it was all a release for the pain I was feeling from failing so horribly at what was supposed to be a lifetime commitment. Now, middle-aged, kid in college and job going well, I didn’t need any of it.
Ben leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips, “You should come sing with me.”
I reached up and tugged on his short beard, “Ha ha ha, if you want small animals to go into hiding and children to cry, I will get up there and sing.”
“You have a good voice.”
“I have a crappy voice from smoking for 20 years.” I pulled my smart phone out of my back pocket, “Besides, I want to get you on video.”
Ben looked at me and then rolled his eyes. I knew he was going to keep pressuring me, but he was backing off for the moment. He pushed his shot of Patron over to me and grinned, “Wish me luck.”
I gave him a thumbs up and watched as he threaded his way through the crowded table, his bright orange shirt like a beacon bobbing in the ocean. He stepped up on the small stage and picked up the microphone. I lifted my phone and fumbled to find the record button, silently cursing the fact that smartphones just made me feel like an idiot. I thumbed through a few screens until I found the camera application and pressed it. The music began and my head shot up in recognition, my jaw dropping in dumbfounded surprise. Before Ben and I were anything but friends, I had once told him about an Elton John song I had just loved as a kid. I liked it so much my mother had bought me a 45 with it on it and I had played it over and over again. It was one of those obscure off-the-cuff conversations; the kind that I never seriously thought about as I plunged ahead into my future because it wasn’t a game changer in any form.
I started to laugh and I stood up, trying to clap my hands but I was still holding that smart phone. The crowd was calling out now and whistling, some were singing along and my heart was beating fast. I dropped the phone on the table and it tumbled into the shot glass of Patron, sloshing liquid all over the screen. I didn’t care. I started singing along too, I couldn’t help myself. Crocodile Rock would always be my go-to song and I knew right at that moment, Ben was always going to be my go-to partner.

Free Spirit

Free Spirit

Drew planned out the night carefully, dutifully checking the weather to ensure his success. 

That was the first thing that went awry.

 Instead of dark and stormy, the sky was filled with stars and a bright almost-full moon shedding light across the fields.  If it had been dark and stormy he wouldn’t be standing out in the yard at eleven o’clock at night with a bucket of warm soapy water and a wife that made him question her sanity at times.  Instead he would be snuggled up next to her in their king-sized bed, watching a movie and laughing and sharing a plate of nachos. 

                 He let out a pent up breath and took another swig from his beer as he leaned against the old ’55 Ford, kicking the tire with his boot.  He looked over at Allie and shook his head, “Tell me again what you were thinking?”

Allie rolled her eyes of walnut brown and tugged at the loose strands of auburn hair framing her face, “I took at drive down past the Ollie Ranch and I saw that steer of his, the one that’s all white.” She wrinkled her nose and folded her arms in front of her as she looked down at her paint speckled tennis shoes.

“At what point did you decide to do this?”  Drew gestured to the sixteen-hundred-pound Highland steer peacefully tearing at the grass in their front yard and then made a half wave gesture to the cattle trailer hooked up to his truck.   His gaze went back to his wife, “No amount of scrubbing or bleach is going to fix this.” 

Allie looked over at the steer, “You told me to be free about my creativity.” She looked back at her husband, her hands now on her hips, “So that was all a big lie? You don’t want me to paint?”

 “I want you to paint.” Drew pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.  Taking a deep breath, he set his beer on the hood of the truck and pressed his lips together.   Closing his eyes, he lifted his head up to the sky and muttered a quiet prayer, “Lord, please grant me the patience.” 

 Allie stalked away from him and approached the steer, “It’s okay, Fergie, mean old Drew doesn’t think you look ugly.” 

 “Allie,” Drew opened his eyes and shook his head, “I want you to be creative, I want you to let your imagination run wild….” He pointed at the steer, “but not with the neighbor’s cow!  What in the world am I going to tell Ollie?!”

 Allie reached out and tugged on the long hairs of his coat, “Tell him that Fergie will need to have her roots done in 30 days.” 

 “The cow is pink and blue!”  Drew cried.

 “I know, isn’t she beautiful?” Allie giggled and something inside Drew stirred.  The anger and agitation was still there, but looking at his wife dancing around and laughing made him push it back.  Sometimes it was better just to go with it.

 “Yes, Allie, she’s a beaut, you did a really good job with her.” 

 Allie squealed with delight and gave him a big hug, “Honey, I’m going to make us a big plate of nachos. Why don’t you go upstairs and pick us out a good movie?”

The Coupons

The Coupons

Coffee.  That’s all I needed and I expected it to be a quick in and out trip to the store and then back to my porch to enjoy the quiet morning.  Instead I’m standing in line behind the Coupon Queen who seems to have forgotten the concept behind an Express Lane. She was a plump middle-aged woman with gaudy rings and black dyed hair that had streaks of purple running through it.  I watched with annoyance as she dug through her oversize tote bag, laughing about the amount of junk she liked to carry with her. She clutched a stack of crumpled coupons in one hand and was pulling more from within the depths of her bag.

I shifted my weight back and forth between my legs and silently counted to myself, refusing to let my own impatience destroy my day.  I heard a heavy sigh behind me and some unintelligible muttering.  I looked over my shoulder expecting to exchange understanding looks with the customer sharing my fate.  Instead I was confronted with eyes dark with anger coming from a man in a ratted jean jacket.  He glowered at me and I looked away, a feeling of dread creeping up my neck.  I was not a confrontational person and this man obviously was a confrontation waiting to happen.  Instead I stepped to the side, glancing at ½ gallon of buttermilk in his hand.  “Do you want to go in front of me?  I’m not in a hurry.”   I was, but I didn’t like him behind me, it was making me nervous.

The man stepped forward and his buttermilk holding hand shot up and pushed me back into the shelf of impulse purchase items. Tubes of chap stick clattered to the floor.

“Hey!” I protested, scrambling to regain my balance and composure, my face flaming with indignation, “Asshole!”

He didn’t bother with a response, in his free hand there was a gun. I froze, my fury turning into instant shock as he raised the weapon and pointed it at the cashier.  The Coupon Queen let out a squeal and I just stood there like a statue, staring in shock and anticipation.  I’ve never been the hero.  I’ve imagined scenes just like this one and being the one to come to the rescue, but in reality, I get stopped by my own disbelief that the scene is unfolding right in front of me.

The cashier, a local high school girl, was visibly shaking as she tried to punch the code on the computer to open up the register.  I wondered if following the rules and giving the thief what he wanted was the best course to take. Lately the news had been drenched with stories of mass shootings and random attacks and the gun control issues were being argued vehemently in political circles.  This most certainly wouldn’t become a mass shooting, there were only three of us standing there with the thief, but three was still too many by my count.  I wasn’t quite ready to die.

I surreptitiously reached into my bag, which I had opened to get to my wallet as I approached the counter just a few moments earlier.  My fingers brushed the smooth barrel of the Ruger 9mm my fiancé had insisted on buying for me.  I wasn’t keen on handguns having being raised in a home that was all about rifles and shotguns. He bought one that was my favorite color pink and named it Princess.   For months we spent every Saturday afternoon at the shooting range, firing Princess and perfecting my aim.  I went along with it never expecting to ever actually have to use it, but rather to make my fiancé feel that he was protecting me by giving me this.

I tried to pull Princess from my bag but it caught on the handle and dropped with a clatter to the floor. “Shit!” I cried out and quickly bent down to pick it up.  I saw the thief’s boots, scuffed and dirty turned to face me before I felt the anger flowing off of him.  I looked up as my hand wrapped around Princess, my heart hammering in my chest.   He was pointing his gun right at my face and his face was hardened into a deep scowl, “That was stupid, Lady.”

“No, you’re the stupid one!”  The Coupon Queen’s voice shrilled and there was a loud pop as she pulled the trigger on the Glock she was holding in her hand, having pulled it from the depths of her purse.  Cold buttermilk splashed over me and I squeezed my eyes shut as I pulled my own pistol back towards me and fell back out of the way.  The thief stumbled and dropped his weapon just inches from my own.  He bent to pick it up and I scrambled to push it away, sliding on the buttermilk and letting out an awkward cry, “Arrggh!!   I know it didn’t look graceful or smooth like it does in the movies, but in the heat of the moment, appearances were not a priority.  I pushed myself back up to my knees just as the cashier launched herself ungracefully off the counter and latch on to the thief’s back causing him to fall face first into the tiles and spilled buttermilk, knocking down the gum and candy display in the process.   She let out a curse and grabbed him by the hair and started pounding his head into the floor, grunting and crying.   Coupon Queen picked up the gun the thief had dropped and ejected the clip, giving it a cursory look.  “Two rounds?  Can’t afford the ammunition?”  She opened her bag and pushed the weapon inside, giving the bag a satisfactory pat.  “Should have gotten a coupon.”

Fandom Thing

FandomEveryone is a fan of something but we are not all a fan of everything.   I personally became a fan of books at a very young age and from there I just expanded my interests.  I learned what I liked and I learned what I didn’t like.  Seems pretty simple.

Only people don’t like to leave things simple, they want to complicate things.  They want to make you feel bad for liking things they do not care for and they will do all in their power to make you feel like a lesser person because you are not sharing their views on things.   This goes for books, movies, games, tv shows, political views, health views and on and on and on.   They shame you and insult the things you love and they walk away feeling righteous and confident because they have just inflicted their opinion without a thought on how it affected you.   People suck.

And then there are those who share your admiration for things.  You automatically feel a connection to them and you excitedly exchange thoughts on your common interest.  You feel comfortable and it makes you feel warm and happy inside.  They are a sort of family to you because they are not making you feel bad because you are a fan of something they personally don’t care for.  A good example :    A few weeks ago a Whovian brother was getting me some copies of the Doctor Who specials and he asked if there were any other television shows I wanted.   I told him I wanted the entire “Once Upon A Time” series and he ( not a fan ) asked why I would want that.  I just smiled and told him, “Because I love fairy tales and I think its neat the way they’re doing the show.”    My brother nodded and the next day brought me what I requested.  He didn’t berate me or criticize me for liking something he was not a fan of, he simply honored my request and that was the end of it.

That is the way it should be.   You should not have to worry that someone is going to make fun of you because you love something they do not.  You should not have to be embarrassed or ashamed for what appeals to you and you should not have to keep quiet about it in fear that someone will point at you and make you a target.

So all you Doctor Who, Star Wars, Once Upon a Time, Sherlock, Twilight, Hunger Games, Star Trek, Grimm, Supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia, Piers Anthony, Harry Potter, Big Bang Theory, Friends, Divergent, and countless other fandoms, I tip my hat to you and say  ENJOY!