Chapter Six - Enter the Air Horn
TGS + Evan + JMATS marched purposefully through the cave in single file.
After a brief cat fight over who was driving, and then for who rode shot gun in which some members of the squad were duffed up rather savagely, and unnecessarily (some more than others, coughheathercough), they took off towards California where Jack Johnson, during the production of his eighty-fourth album had managed to get his head caught between the railings in a banister.
Susanne couched down in front of him and studied the situation very carefully.
“Thank goodness you guys came! I was beginning to think no one cared about Jacky old boy anymore!”
“Listen… Jack…Don’t you think it’s about time you just gave it up? I mean, you’ve made some money… and a lot of songs… That’s enough, right?”
“No! Come on!” he shouted, “I’ve got an idea for at least twenty more! They’re about this girl, right? And-”
“No, Jacky. Sshhhhhhhhh…” She patted his head and slowly, and he nodded as he dropped off to sleep. They decided it was for the best that they didn’t set him free, and locked the door behind them laughing insanely, because if the Spades have taught us anything, it is that long trips make people hysterical in a good way.
Back at the cave it was time to think seriously. The girls needed to put some solid work together if they were going to get a CD out for Thursday, which apparently as of last Monday will now be known as Banana Bread Day. It was hard though. Writing good songs meant putting things in perspective. It meant sitting down together and really thinking about what life meant to them. How did things affect them? What day of the week is it now?
But anyway, the girls knew the secret to good music was writing the lyrics last, and since they could make stuff up fairly randomly under pressure, all that was left was to write the lyrics.
“I think that porridge rhymes with orange. I mean… if you say it right. Porradnge..” Said Ali.
“But the theme is boy meets girl, but won’t tell her his name for some reason so they go get muffins and girl finally asks him a week later. Not teen girls attempt at rhyming colours with rarely used words!” Emily rolled her eyes.
“You know what colour I really hate? That one that’s not quite green, and not really grey, and it’s just so ugly! Unless it were on a dragon. Man, dragons can be any colour.” rationalized Susanne.
“Yeaaaaaaaa…" sighed Heather, "We should go to Dooher’s!”
“Yaaaaaaaaa!”
But luckily when they got back, their first CD, “Get a Curple or Your Purple Legs Will Hurple,” was recorded and ready to go ala those wonderful elves that are always ready to save your butt when you really don’t want to do stuff, complete with a cover picture of the girls sporting mysterious smiles that can only be achieved by secretly wearing a bathing suit instead of underwear. And while the girls had fun playing weekly gigs at the Aron, arguing cowbell versus air horn, and recruiting the recovering hip population of Campbellford as fans, their first single Sitting up Straight was ruthlessly climbing the charts.
I just might be earning a wide reputation
For finding myself in the same situation.
He couldn’t have told me, unless I forgot.
I don’t do it on purpose, but it happens a lot.
I see he knows mine, but I don’t know his too.
I’m sorry to butt in, but who the hell are you?
I hate dropping hints, and it’s sad, I should mention
How very rarely I’m paying attention.
While we smile and laugh, it is always the same.
We’re silently playing the Say Your Name Game.
And still it eludes me, through my mind I forage.
I’m quietly spazing and eating my porradnge.
After a brief cat fight over who was driving, and then for who rode shot gun in which some members of the squad were duffed up rather savagely, and unnecessarily (some more than others, coughheathercough), they took off towards California where Jack Johnson, during the production of his eighty-fourth album had managed to get his head caught between the railings in a banister.
Susanne couched down in front of him and studied the situation very carefully.
“Thank goodness you guys came! I was beginning to think no one cared about Jacky old boy anymore!”
“Listen… Jack…Don’t you think it’s about time you just gave it up? I mean, you’ve made some money… and a lot of songs… That’s enough, right?”
“No! Come on!” he shouted, “I’ve got an idea for at least twenty more! They’re about this girl, right? And-”
“No, Jacky. Sshhhhhhhhh…” She patted his head and slowly, and he nodded as he dropped off to sleep. They decided it was for the best that they didn’t set him free, and locked the door behind them laughing insanely, because if the Spades have taught us anything, it is that long trips make people hysterical in a good way.
Back at the cave it was time to think seriously. The girls needed to put some solid work together if they were going to get a CD out for Thursday, which apparently as of last Monday will now be known as Banana Bread Day. It was hard though. Writing good songs meant putting things in perspective. It meant sitting down together and really thinking about what life meant to them. How did things affect them? What day of the week is it now?
But anyway, the girls knew the secret to good music was writing the lyrics last, and since they could make stuff up fairly randomly under pressure, all that was left was to write the lyrics.
“I think that porridge rhymes with orange. I mean… if you say it right. Porradnge..” Said Ali.
“But the theme is boy meets girl, but won’t tell her his name for some reason so they go get muffins and girl finally asks him a week later. Not teen girls attempt at rhyming colours with rarely used words!” Emily rolled her eyes.
“You know what colour I really hate? That one that’s not quite green, and not really grey, and it’s just so ugly! Unless it were on a dragon. Man, dragons can be any colour.” rationalized Susanne.
“Yeaaaaaaaa…" sighed Heather, "We should go to Dooher’s!”
“Yaaaaaaaaa!”
But luckily when they got back, their first CD, “Get a Curple or Your Purple Legs Will Hurple,” was recorded and ready to go ala those wonderful elves that are always ready to save your butt when you really don’t want to do stuff, complete with a cover picture of the girls sporting mysterious smiles that can only be achieved by secretly wearing a bathing suit instead of underwear. And while the girls had fun playing weekly gigs at the Aron, arguing cowbell versus air horn, and recruiting the recovering hip population of Campbellford as fans, their first single Sitting up Straight was ruthlessly climbing the charts.
For finding myself in the same situation.
He couldn’t have told me, unless I forgot.
I don’t do it on purpose, but it happens a lot.
I see he knows mine, but I don’t know his too.
I’m sorry to butt in, but who the hell are you?
I hate dropping hints, and it’s sad, I should mention
How very rarely I’m paying attention.
While we smile and laugh, it is always the same.
We’re silently playing the Say Your Name Game.
And still it eludes me, through my mind I forage.
I’m quietly spazing and eating my porradnge.
posted by Susanne at 10:38 AM
2 Comments:
WHY must i post after you? your brilliance will only overshadow anything that i write. i can't believe you wrote a song!
*Flattered* But still! It's not much of one! It doesn't even have a chourus. But we'll see if I can top it anyway. I'm thinking I might write some heartfelt, mournful wail about our history of cereal addiction. But you know, if the presses started in on that one we'd never hear the end. Still, the truth must come out. And it's actually more likely to be some savage rock-out of a mournful wail.
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