So, here were are again. We have to stop meeting like this. It’s the 19th day of the current novel writing cycle, there will be another, I promise. But, for today I’ve surpassed the requisite number of words and I now present the unedited and un-spellchecked sample:
It was a good crowd for The Lumber Mill. There were regulars and tourists, old and young, beer drinkers and wine drinkers, all here waiting for the show to start. Eric was surprised that so many people came to hear a band that none of them had heard of before this morning. The classic rock radio station had some fun with Eric’s announcement and played some version of it all day. Ralph only heard the one that sounded like the advertisement for the demolition derby, complete with a booming echo and explosions.
“TONIGHT, Night, night, night. AT THE LUMBER MILL, Mill, mill, mill. NOB. STREA. TER. REVIVAL, VAL, Val, val, val”, screamed the announcer.
“For God’s sake”, thought Ralph as he was driving over to the bar, “what have I gotten myself into?”
At least Butch, the drummer, hadn’t heard any of the ads, being the type to cocoon himself with his iPod, only listening to preselected music. Butch showed up at seven with his drum kit and set it up within the writhing nest of cords and mics that Ralph had set up earlier. It only took ten minutes for him to get everyone twisted in and tightened up. They had an impromptu poetry reading that sufficed for an audio check.
“Because I could not stop the meth, I sleep amongst the trees”, Ralph recited, “The rain fell as I took that breath, My last in Aberdeen.”
As with any poem in a meter favored by Emily Dickinson, this new poetry fit right into the theme song from Gilligan’s Island, so Ralph began again with guitar and drum accompaniment. He roared through the the first two lines, the crowd quieting down to hear, and then continued…
“Five feet, two hands and two blonde heads, We all escaped the grave.
“We long to be united with, Our torsos to be saved. Our torsos to be saved.”
Then he broke into a long, drawn out, and honestly strange guitar solo, leaving everyone wondering what exactly was going on. Butch even got out from behind the drum set as it appeared that his portion of the sound check was over. Ralph opened his eyes as the feedback built to a scream to see the entire room staring at him.
He grabbed the cord and yanked it out of his guitar and said, “Check, check one. We’re Nobstreater Revival and we’ll be back in twenty.”
Sarah was sitting at the bar, milking a glass of merlot when Ralph walked over. “I liked that poem. Very dark, and timely!”
“Oh, that’s me in nutshell honey, dark and timely”, Ralph replied, grabbing her drink and taking a swig.
