Sing Into Your Love [FICTION]

 “Now that you’ve moved up in the world, you better join us for one last night out before corporate advancement sucks out all of your cool,” Molly laughed.

“Sounds good. Where are we going?”

“Katie’s.”

“The karaoke bar?”

“You know it.”

“Sing you there.”

“You are losing your cool already.”

‘What? That was funny.”

“Nope, but you thinking it was is more proof that you are becoming lame.” She laughed again and walked away.

~~~

“So here is the rule of the night,” Molly said with a grin as we gather around our table with one of the song binders. “No one picks their own song. Someone else will pick for you.”

“And since it is your night,” Troy winked at me, “I know the perfect song for an old lady like you.”

He flipped through the book and turned a page toward me.

“”Islands in the Stream’” I grinned at him, “It’s a duet. Are you planning to sing it with me?”

“Nope. I want to hear you sing both parts. Anyone who is management material could do it.”

“I don’t think so.” I looked to Molly for support.

She shrugged. “Rules are rules. Get up there.”

As our table cheered me on, the disc jockey called out my name and the song name. I gave my alleged friends an annoyed look but no one noticed. I stepped up to the stage and looked at the screen, which informed me the first part belonged to Kenny. I sighed, took a deep breathe and prepared to sing. The first few notes floated through the air. A stirring in the crowd caused me to stop focusing on the butterflies in my stomach. I looked up to see a man hurrying through the crowd. He grabbed the second microphone and winked at me as the bounding dot prompted me to sing. My mouth dropped open but no words came out. Instead, the man began to sing in a perfect time to the music.

As he sang, I drank him in. He stood about a foot taller than me with short-cropped dark hair with hints of salt and pepper soon to come. The light stubble on his chin already exhibited those specks of silver and grey. As I gazed into his dark brown eyes, he smiled and nodded his head at the prompter where a pink dot now bounced beside the blue one.

I opened my mouth, surprised as our voices blended together perfectly. He leaned closer to me as we sang. Then he reached out his free hand and turned me toward the audience. His voice faded out and I turned back toward him to read the words over his shoulder as I sang solo. He smiled at me, nodding his head in time with the music.

“Making love with each other.” I felt my cheeks flush and the left corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes lowered to look at my lips.

As we belted out the last words of the song, he wrapped his arm around my waist and gently led me into a synchronized bow. We replaced our microphones to another round of applause and he kept his arm around my waist.

“It was a pleasure to sing with you,” he said. “My name is Logan.”

“I appreciate it. My friends thought it would be funny for me to sing a duet with myself.”

“I’d never let such a pretty woman sing alone.” He smiled sincerely at me.

I couldn’t find a response to that as the butterflies began bouncing around in my stomach again.

“So since your friends would, how about we ditch them and go somewhere quieter?” He offered me his hand.

I accepted it.

~~I hope that Earth Day brings you joy and opportunities to enjoy some sunshine and spring flowers. I traveled through a snow storm earlier this week, so I am valuing those lovely blooms and golden rays more than usual. Also, I realize I owe you another post of poems for National Poetry Month. Wish me luck and keep smiling.~~

Elfis Sings Again [FICTION]

Peppermint and hints of cocoa wash over me as a gentle humming noise summons me from sleep. I recognize the tune—“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”

“Elfis, give it a rest.” I mumble as I roll over, pulling my pillow over my head.

Tiny feet tap dance across my stomach as a soft weight falls on my face. “Wake up, Mother, you have to help me set up the karaoke machine for my friends.”

I mumble under my breath. “Little monster.”

“You know I am an elf not a monster and you promised.”

I question again why I invited this tiny tyrant into my house. Since I discovered his penchant for singing, concerts have filled our house from Thanksgiving to Christmas. And yesterday was Thanksgiving.

I finally stumble downstairs, lashing my bathrobe tightly closed as I step off the last stair and turn toward the living room. The murmur of hushed voices fades away as my eyes rest on  every sane mother’s worst holiday nightmare. A dozen or more tiny elves perch precariously on most of the surfaces in the room, ironically none on a shelf. One waves shyly to me from one of the fan blades, stirring up a cloud of dust that tickles my nose and sets off a cascade of sneezes.

“Bless you, Mother.” The elves sing out as one. “Thank you for letting us visit you."

I blink my eyes, unsure how to respond to this chorus. They stare blankly back at me with shiny eyes and I stifle a shudder. It strikes me that this would be the most terrifying haunted house for parents. I cross my fingers that my children will exhibit their normal penchant for deep sleep as I lean over the karaoke machine and begin fiddling with wires and knobs.

“Mother,” Elfis’ voice breaks the silence.

I turn to find him standing at my side with an elf who would be a perfect fit for the haunted house idea that takes firmer roots in my mind. I can’t look away from her. She is the most shapely elf I have ever seen, which isn’t saying much. Instead of sporting festive colors, she wears a dress of black satin. I boggle at the high heels poking out from under the hem. As I continue to take in her blue eyes, lined with dark liner and dark red lips, I find my mouth dropping open in confusion.

“This is my girlfriend—Elfira,” Elfis introduces her as she curtsies low.

To successfully complete this maneuver, she grabs the edge of her voluminous black skirt as she lowers her head topped with a bouffant of dark hair. As she looks back up at me, she bats her long, dark lashes innocently.

She grins sweetly at me, “You seem confused. Didn’t Elfis tell you that Halloween has elves, too?”

“On top of all the ghouls and goblins?”

“Yes. The ghouls and goblins are just in it for the fun. The Halloween elves report back to the Boogie Man and let him know which kids need a monster to sneak out from under their bed to steal their candy on the first day of November.”

I gasp.

“Yeah. Your son was too naughty to be allowed to eat all that candy.”

“But he accused me of eating it?”

“They usually do.”

“If I am going to be accused of eating the candy, I would like to actually get to enjoy it.”

“I’ll mention that to the monsters.” She grins at me.

“Enough business, let’s sing, baby.” Elfis declares.

As he lifts the microphone in both hands, he winks at Elfira. She giggles and takes a seat up front to watch. After making a kissy face at his number one fan, Elfis clears his throat and launches into a familiar tune with more festive words:

“Maybe I didn't drink you

Quite as slow as I should have

Maybe I didn't sip you

Quite as often as I could have

Little things I should have added

But just never took the time

“You were always in my cup

You were always in my cup

“Maybe I didn't stir you

All those frosty, frosty nights

But you know I prefer you

To thick eggnog delights

If I made you feel second best

Cocoa, I'm so sorry I’m a schlep

“You were always in my cup

You were always in my cup

“Tell me, tell me that your sweet taste hasn't died

Give me, give me one more sip

To put some marshmallows inside

“Little things I should have added

I just never took the time

“You were always in my cup

You were always in my cup

You were always in my cup

“Maybe I didn't drink you

Quite as slow as I should have

Maybe I didn't sip you

Quite as often as I could have

Maybe I didn't stir you

All those frosty, frosty nights

But you know I prefer you

To all other Christmas treats

Maybe I didn't drink you

Quite as slow as I should have”

As his voice fades out, Elfira steps forward with a tiny steaming mug. He offers her the first sip and they slowly share the cup of cocoa while another elf steps forward to regale us with a less winning rendition of a classic song.

~I knew this would kick off the holiday right, so enjoy. I think this little guy was one of my most loved characters of 2021. This idea actually hit me in the middle of summer. Nothing makes you think of Christmas like melting in the summer sun. I recently saw that Netflix has a show featuring the elf on the shelf. I haven’t watched it yet, but if he resembles Elfish, I might have more readers than I thought.~

Clowning Around [FICTION]

I fumble around in the dark, trying to locate my phone. My voluminous pants don’t have pockets. I find a pair of suspenders, snapping them curiously as my hands continue to seek some semblance of my normal attire. A beam of light shines down on me and I blink back tears.

“You okay?” A deep voice rumbles though the darkness.

Before I dare to answer, I let my eyes adjust enough to get a good look at the asker. A short man with an incredibly broad chest for his height looks down at my prostrate form with concerned eyes. He holds a flashlight in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.

“I don’t know.”

“Still clowning around?” He grins.

This reminds me of the difficulty I had finding pants pockets. I glance down to find myself garbed in oversized blue pants and a garish yellow shirt bedecked in pink stars. I reach toward my face, feeling a thick coating of grease paint. I pull my hand back to find it smeared with white and red. I hesitate before reaching up with my other hand to to snatch a wig from my head. I stare at the fuzzy, red head-covering in my hand and wonder how I came to be dressed as a clown in the middle of a circus ring.

“Wait a second, you aren’t Martha. Who are you?” The man asks, training his flashlight beam on the blond curls now tumbling past my shoulders.

“Who is Martha?” I ask, trying to place the name.

“The clown whose face and outfit you stole.” He advances on me with the bucket of water and flashlight.

“I am sure I didn’t steal anything. I seriously don’t remember how I ended up here.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud hiccup coming from the pool at the base of the high dive draws our attention. To my relief, he sets down the bucket of water and holds the flashlight firmly in both hands as he turns it toward the sound. I slowly clamber to my feet and follow. He glances over his shoulder suspiciously, so I back off, keeping close enough to get a good look at everything caught in the beam of the flashlight. When it falls on the pool, I begin to remember the previous evening.

A dress I recognize as my own barely covers the robust form of a brunette, who struggles to rise to a seated position as the light shines on her. 

“I’m ready for my close up.” She burbles drunkenly as she finally rights herself.

“Martha. Are you okay?” The short man glares at me and steps forward to offer her a steady arm.

Martha takes it with a giggle and then notices me standing in the shadows. “Harry, I am so glad you met my new friend Diane. We had a ball last night.”

“Did you?” He turns to look at me, his gaze softening a little. “Diane, could you hold this flashlight, so I can help Martha out of the pool?”


She giggles as he bends down a little to lift her into his arms. He cradles her against his chest for a moment and then sets her gently onto her feet. She stands shakily, resting a hand on his head to hold herself steady. He doesn’t seem to mind as he rests his head affectionately against her hip briefly after she steadies herself.

“So which one of you ladies wants to tell me what happened here last night?” He asks as he takes in the further signs of mayhem littering the center ring, from tufts of white fluff to what appears to be a trail of candies leading toward the main entrance.

I look at Martha, but she just waves her hand at me. “Jokes, I have, but answers about last night are still fuzzy. You?”

“I am starting to remember a few things.” I admit.

“Then let’s find a place to sit for a few minutes, so you can fill me in on what brought about all the extra work for me this morning.” Harry leads us to the front row of the bleachers and helps Martha get comfortable. She leans heavily on him, grinning at me as I piece together memories as they slowly return.

“Apparently, we met last night in a karaoke bar. Apparently, my virgin margaritas weren’t virgin because things are a little hazy…”

Martha interrupts to inform us. “I was drinking virgin daiquiris.” She follows this up with a burp directly in Harry’s face.

His face contorts as he turns away. “I think both of you got more than you bargained for.”

“I can’t be drunk,” Martha slurs. “I have to walk the tightrope.” Her eyes light on me again. “And your clown suit looks just like mine.”

“This is your clown suit. Apparently, we swapped outfits sometime during the night.”

Her eyes open wide. “And then we sang ‘I Got You Babe’ and you were Sonny.”

“I have a vague recollection of that. And then they kicked us out of the bar because it was closing time.”

“And we rode home in the clown car?”

“I think it was an uber. Someone loved your version of Cher and offered us a ride.”

“Or they love how I fill out your dress.” She laughs until she snorts.

Harry frowns at this.

Martha remains oblivious. ‘We’re best friends for life now, aren’t we, Diane?”

“I hope so,” I respond, “because I have a feeling I am going to remember some things that I need you to swear not to ever speak of.”

“Yay, besties.” She throws herself into my arms and that’s when we realize the flower is still loaded…

~~I once aspired to be a clown. Does that surprise you? I might still have it in me…~~

The Real Concert Begins [FICTION]

“Where did you get tickets to this concert again?” I ask after my stub has been handed back to me.

My friend Allison grins. “Some guy at work was giving them out.”

“And this band is good?” I look at the ticket stub skeptically, certain I have never heard of the Laser Light Loners before.

As they begin to play, I quickly realize I actually wish to never hear about them or from them again. My three year old nephew makes better music when he is screaming “Mom! Mom! Mom!” at the top of his lungs.

After the fourth song, I tap Allison on the shoulder. She mouths, “I’m sorry,” but her eyes speak so much more. Soon we are in the parking lot and we are not alone. Half the crowd seems to have joined us. I have to wonder what kept anyone standing around to listen. My top contenders include being related to the band, having already reached a level of inebriation that makes the chaotic misalignment of sounds suddenly seem like musical poetry, or having the worst taste in music ever given to someone with full use of their ears and brain. I express these ideas to Allison as she offers to make it up to me by taking me to our favorite pub. Though we don’t drink, their fries and hot fudge sundaes are among the best I have ever tasted.

We have just polished off our sundaes when Allison giggles and points toward the door. “Looks like your new favorite band found your favorite place.”

‘What?” I glance over my shoulder to see the lead singer of the Laser Light Loners.

I roll my eyes. “At least it isn’t karaoke night.”

“I dunno. I think I’d like to see him pit his vocal skills against yours.”

“I have no skills,” I inform her.

“You must have some skills,” she says, nodding her head at something over my shoulder.

I turn to find the lead singer smiling down at me with the bass player and drummer flanking him like rock star body guards. “Hello.” I have to admit his voice sounds better when he isn’t screaming into a microphone, but my ears can’t forget the horrors that he calls singing.

I smile anyway. “Hi.”

“Seen any good concerts lately,” he grins at me.

“No,” my own smile fades.

“Oh!” He looks like I just punched him in the gut.

“Must not have seen our concert.” The drummer declares obliviously.

“We did,” Allison backs my play. “Part of it.”

“Ouch!” Looking deflated, the drummer heads over to the bar.

“Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you a drink,” the lead singer offers. “I’m John, by the way.”

“Kim,” I offer him my hand, “We’re just drinking water.”

He mulls this over, inspecting the toes of his sneakers as Allison mouths, “Be nice. He’s not that bad looking.”

I roll my eyes at her but take a deep breath and her advice. “Maybe you could make it up to us another way.” 

“I’d love to try,” he lowers his voice, grinning at me.

“Not that way,” I give him my most disapproving look.

He laughs, “Of course not. Of course not. So what do you have in mind?”

I glance at Allison, giving her a slow wink. “There is a karaoke bar on the other side of the street. Want to have a sing off?”

“You know I’m a singer, right?” He looks incredulous.

“Maybe you’ll have more luck singing someone else’s songs.” I grin at him and stand up.

Allison joins me, offering her own challenge, “Unless you don’t think you’re up to it.”

We giggle. Allison knows how truly terrible my singing can be. In fact, she once pointed out that the more I love a song, the more I seem to butcher it on its way across my lips.

“Oh. I’m up for it. Come on guys, give me some support.” He waves his friends in and they fall in behind us on our way out.

Our waitress looks at us curiously as she waves goodbye. 

Soon, we are sitting at a sticky table with what I find to be arguably the worst band in the world, looking for the right songs to pit our voices against each other. Allison selects a country tune for me, hoping to highlight the accent I never completely vanquished from my speech when I ran away to the city. John lets his friends select a song for him, a ballad from the 80s that makes him wince just hearing the name.

While I am scrolling through my phone to get a reminder of the lyrics I will be singing, Allison stands up and walks over to the disc jockey. I don’t give it much thought until the background music disappears and her voice fills the air around us.

“My friend and I need your help,” she gestures toward me and the disc jockey shines a light on me, “She has challenged a new friend of ours to a sing off. You decide which one of them deserves the win. You get to listen to both songs and then we will ask you to vote for my friend or the other contender Doesn’t that sound fun?”

We get light applause and a few drunken cheers. One man stands up and starts to lift his shirt over his head, presumably to toss in Allison’s direction. Luckily, his friends talk him out of it, probably by reminding him that such behavior gets one kicked out of the establishment fueling the happy drunkenness. 

I stand up to sing first. Even I cringe at how far off I am at points in the song, but the crowd listens with the politeness granted the inebriated. I even get a couple of supportive claps from the man who probably still wants to toss his shirt onstage. I appreciate his restraint.

It turns out John’s friends want to play to his weaknesses. Most of the chorus proves way too high for him, and the expression on his face speaks to his distaste for the song, the key it should be sung in, and probably the band from which it sprang. He closes up with a brief improv a cappella rap of insult for his friends and steps over to stand next to me as Allison continues her duties as master of ceremonies for our musical circus.

“May we first hear applause for my girl Kim.”

Most of the room expresses their preference for my musical stylings by pounding their hands together.

“And who prefers the musical stylings of John and his heartfelt ballad?”

A few people offer soft pity claps. His two friends try to make up the difference with loud hoots and hollers.

“And who just wants them both to sing again?”

A soft chorus of boos fills the bar. One person even calls out a helpful, “Get off the stage.”

And the most helpful of all is the drunk man assuring us loudly that if we sing again, he is taking off his shirt and giving us both hugs. I shudder as I glance in the direction of the wet stains in his armpits. 

“That concludes this evening’s humiliation for my dear friend, though I think she may be the new frontman of a local band in light of tonight’s vote.”

A few people guffaw, but I doubt any of them have heard of the Laser Light Loners. If they have, they probably will join me in forgetting about them.

“I guess you bested me this time, but I am always up for a rematch.” John offers me his hand.

“Don’t touch the star,” Allison tells him as she begins dramatically dragging me toward the door. “No autographs, please.”

“Come on, Allison, don’t be rude.”

“Shh. I know you like being flirted with, but it can’t go anywhere,” she assures me, “What would you do if he wrote you a love song?”

~I kind of feel like this is how people would react to me deciding to be a singer. That is why I skip getting off the stage by not stepping onto it in the first place. I shall stick to my poetry for now, but feel free to let me know if you are brave enough to let me sing to you, so you can give me an honest opinion of my pipes.~

Back to College [FICTION]

“We haven’t been back since we graduated.” Penny wheedles.

“That’s ten whole years,” Janine drags out each syllable as she leans into me.

I sigh.

“She’s right, Erica.” Penny says. “And you are getting married next month, so we won’t have this chance again.”

“Fine.” I say. “Count me in.”

“We’ll pick you up Friday, so be ready.” Penny exclaims.

“And bring your dancing shoes.” Janine adds.

“You know I will.” I giggle.

As I slide my phone into my pocket, I open the door to my closet. Tucked among the boxes I packed in anticipation of my wedding, I locate one marked “old shoes”. I unfold the flaps and carefully select a slender black box. I peek at the red flats within the smaller box before reseating the lid and placing it on the bed. In a matter of minutes, I have a weekend bag filled with promises of my return to college glory.

~

“Erica!” My friends catcall from Penny’s convertible. “Get in here, girl, so we can part-ay!”

“Woowho!” I squeal, winking at my elderly neighbor as she gapes at me on her way into her house.

“Well, I never.” She quickens her pace and slams the door.

We laugh as the wind blows our hair out behind us.

~

“I can’t believe this place is still open.”

“I can’t believe it still has the same decor.” I add as I peer through the open door at the worn black and red linoleum leading up to round bar stools wrapped in red leather.

“So what are we going to sing?” I ask as I flip through the options offered for the brave patrons of Care-2-Okay karaoke bar.

“‘Rolling In the Deep’ was my favorite song that year.” Janine offers excitedly

“And none of us can sing like Adele.” I shudder at the thought.

“True, and Erica was pretty fond of ‘Dancing on My Own,’” Penny suggests.

“Only because John broke up with me to date my roommate, so it was safer to dance alone,” I mumble.

“I guess that leaves us with our anthem…” Janelle holds up the book and points.

“Always  choose Pink.” Penny and I agree.

We nurse our drinks, trying to keep our throats capable of producing any semblance of harmony. Finally, our names are called.

“…and they will grace us with their rendition of ‘Raise Your Glass.’”

The bar erupts with commotion as people raise their glasses, some in both hands. We giggle and nervously take the stage, clutching each others hands nervously as we lean into he microphone and watch the screen. We start off shakily, but after the first verse, we either warm up or the piddly amount of liquor in our systems inspires courage and convinces us we don’t sound like wounded animals.

As if he has been summoned, my ex John walks through the door as we belt out, “Party crasher.”

I stop singing with my mouth wide open, but my friends address “panty snatcher” to John with great pride, both waving happily at him with their free hands as he glances toward the stage and realizes who we are. Their other hands hold mine more tightly, keeping me from fleeing the stage.

His face goes white before flushing brilliant scarlet, but he doesn’t turn toward the door. Instead he steps up the bar, ordering a straight vodka. He sips on it as we finish our song and step down from the stage to half-hearted applause. My loss of enthusiasm apparently spread to our audience. The next act brought their own following, so the cheering reaches new heights as they step onto the stage.

My friends steer me away from the bar. They are both offering what I assume are words of encouragement or sage advice since I can’t make out a single syllable. They don’t release my hands no matter how hard I try to shake them off. As the crowd closes in around us, they press their shoulders to mine and steer me toward the door. As we step out onto the street, I can finally hear them.

“Apparently, everyone wanted to celebrate ten years of real life by looking back at college.” Janelle says.

“Sorry.” Penny lets go of my hand to wrap me in a warm hug.

“Me, too.” John’s voice chases us out the door.

 

Penny growls. Janine mumbles something before rounding on him.

“You will be if you don’t back off.”

“Now now, Jan,” he holds up his hand.

“Never call me Jan,” she releases my hand to push him backward.

He steps away, but looks at me imploringly. “I just want to talk to Erica.”

“I don’t need to talk to you.” I tell him, squaring my shoulders as I finally free my other hand from Penny.

“But I…”

“…need to leave, so I can enjoy my weekend with my friends.”

“I heard you are getting married, and…” he begins.

“If anything besides, I wanted to say congratulations,’ comes out of you mouth…” Janine steps into his space again.

He glances at me and then back to her. He nods. “Of course, that is all I wanted to say.”

She steps back and he turns to go, but he mouths, “Call me.”

I shake my head, scowling at him.

“Janine, you are fierce,” Penny pats her on the back, “and, you, Erica, need to raise another glass.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply.

With one more glance to make sure John’s back is still receding down the street, we step back into the bar to give our anthem another shot.

Graduations are happening in unprecedented ways these days, so why not write a story about looking back to the glory days prior to graduation? Hope you enjoyed this week's offering. Also want to send out congratulations to all the graduates from kindergarten up to PhD. May we all remain healthy and happy while we wait to see each other IRL again.