We’re sitting round a table. There are five of us. Moments ago we were all huddled round a flickering PC screen in another room, sound turned up, tinny speakers struggling to cope.
“So?” I say. Lord knows, I have no inspiration. Write a short about a song the guy said. Sounded easy enough—then I got my song choice.
“That’s it?” says the wife—she who is adored and obeyed.
“Yeah, that’s all I’ve got. Ideas?”
“Never heard of it,” says the eldest son, all denims and leather. “Pretty obscure.”
“Didn’t that country and western band play it?” The boss sees the puzzlement on my face. “You know, the one we heard at the Horden, supporting the Waifs.”
“Must have been one of your other boyfriends.”
She doesn’t laugh. She used to laugh at my jokes.
Hell, even the kids don’t laugh at my jokes anymore. Is it any wonder I don’t write comedy when even family don’t laugh at my bon mots?
“What’s a Honky Tonk, anyway?”
For more watch out for Words to Music.
“So?” I say. Lord knows, I have no inspiration. Write a short about a song the guy said. Sounded easy enough—then I got my song choice.
“That’s it?” says the wife—she who is adored and obeyed.
“Yeah, that’s all I’ve got. Ideas?”
“Never heard of it,” says the eldest son, all denims and leather. “Pretty obscure.”
“Didn’t that country and western band play it?” The boss sees the puzzlement on my face. “You know, the one we heard at the Horden, supporting the Waifs.”
“Must have been one of your other boyfriends.”
She doesn’t laugh. She used to laugh at my jokes.
Hell, even the kids don’t laugh at my jokes anymore. Is it any wonder I don’t write comedy when even family don’t laugh at my bon mots?
“What’s a Honky Tonk, anyway?”
For more watch out for Words to Music.