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A CONVERSATION IN C SHARP.
INT. PUB – NIGHT
D MAN
Choir Lady was my inspiration. She encouraged me to sing.
SHRILL MOMMA
(Eating a crab cake and drinking wine)
(Eating a crab cake and drinking wine)
I sing in the shower.
D MAN
Choir Lady and I sang in church. That’s where I learned to play the organ.
SHRILL MOMMA
It’s been a while since I’ve seen an organ.
D MAN
I loved playing the organ so much. I played it three times a day.
SHRILL MOMMA
(Hands covering ears)
La la la la la la la la la la la.
D MAN
I used to play the organ until my hand hurt.
SHRILL MOMMA
Check!
D MAN
My hand was so sore I couldn’t open the door to the practice room.
SHRLL MOMMA
I once burnt my hand on a hot iron.
D MAN
But my organ problems can’t compare to the Vermont flood disaster of 1927.
SHRILL MOMMA
How ’bout the New York City flood of 1981? Three bottles of wine at a Simon and Garfunkle concert and a line to the Porta Potty that stretched clear across Central Park.
D MAN
My family’s cabin was swept away.
SHRILL MOMMA
I ended up in China Town, built a bamboo raft then floated back up town.
D MAN
The oak china cabinet ended up on Martha’s Vineyard with every dish intact. Other than that, my family lost everything.
SHRILL MOMMA
I lost a kidney. Found it upstream. God was selling it on the corner of 42nd Street and Park Avenue along with some fake Rolex watches. That’s when I stopped drinking . . . until now.
A fictionalized account of a somewhat real conversation.
Please refer to my earlier post, Adventures in Blog Land, where I ask the question, “What is real?”
I hope I’m not banned from the choir. I’m their groupie.
Choir ladies playing with flooded organs? WHAT have churches turned into now days?
Sheesh!
RF: It's an outrage. I tell you. Mixing wine with organs in the pew.
Am I right for discouraging my son from playing his instrument all hours of the night?
Mrs B: Absolutely. Has he been playing long?