Welcome to Your (My) Life

It's 10:30 pm.  I'm sitting on stage in a cardboard box.  I'm holding a microphone.  I'm wearing a straw hat.  There's this great rhythm behind me, some groovy music, and everybody's watching.

"This song goes out to the former governor of Massachusetts, Willard Romney," I say boldly into the microphone.  Crickets.  Damn.  I thought that would win me the crowd.  I mean, this is Chicago.  This is a gay-themed restaurant in Chicago.  This is a gay-themed restaurant in Chicago full of drunks and actors.  And Romney lost less than 24 hours ago to the city's favorite son.  Yet, so far the cardboard box has garnered a stronger response than my political banter. 

Well, I'm sure the song itself will get them.

Welcome to your life . . .

Ooh.  That was a little high for me.  I should have started an octave down. 

There's no turning back . . .

Oh, great.  Now, my throat's closing. 

Even while we sleep . . .
 
Okay, what is going on here?  The notes in this song are bouncing around like water droplets in Jurassic Park.  Is this song changing key?  It is.  I'm sure of it.  On purpose.  The lady running this thing hates me because I laughed at her song when she performed*.  She's messing with the music. She's fucking with me. 

Everybody wants to rule the world . . .

Oh, hey.  That "world" part sounded good.  

I banter some more.  "The second verse will be on key," I say.  The second verse sneaks up on me.

It's my own design . . .

Oh, God.  That was worse than the first verse.

It's my own remorse . . .

She hates me.  She fucking hates me.  Why is this lady doing this to me?  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I laughed at your song.  "Remember what I said about the second verse?" I banter.  "Politicians don't usually keep their word!" 

Crickets. 

 . . . rule the world . . . 

I got the "world" note again.  I'm good at that one.  Maybe I have a one note range.  Oh, shit. 

There's a room where the light won't find you. . .

Oh, shit.

Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down . . .

Oh, shit. 

When they do, I'll be --

OH SHIT.  Give me my note back.  Give me my note back!

. . . world.

Ah.  I am a deeply talented singer of the word "world."  Is that a karaoke track?  Can I sing "world" over and over again to the roar of an adoring crowd? 


It's a good thing this karaoke stuff isn't competitive.  But if you'd like to do better than me, give it a shot. 

Personally, I'm going to bed.  Tomorrow morning, I'm playing the lead in a musical.

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* In my defense, it was a funny song.