Posts

Showing posts from January, 2011

Killing Time

Image
A wise doctor once told me that the view from his house is not the same as mine. Using a map, he highlighted the area of town where he lived, and warned me not to rent a property close by, or he would kill me. I stood by my promise. He died one morning making breakfast dressed in his Donald Duck play suit. His house pal, Gus Goose, finally tired of eating duck eggs, and stuck Donald's yellow flat feet down his strap-on duck beak. The wise doctor's last words were, 'And there's me keeping blue eggs for your birthday ...'

* Lately I've been feeling tired, bloated and lacking in energy. I sent a sample of my hair, with a cheque, to find out what my diet was doing to my body. I received an in-depth analysis in the post. The results were amazing. It confirmed my body was in great shape. The cheque, however, is suffering from hypersensitivity, a skin problem, muscle imbalance, deficiencies in a number of minerals and vitamins and requires to undergo a comprehensive…

A Day in the Life of Burt Bacharach

Image
'What’s New Pussycat?'

'Number 4—ham omelette—with coffee—please,' said Burt, removing his sunglasses, pinching his nose to ease the tension.

'Heavenly,' retorted the waiter, smiling widely.

'The truth is—' Burt said, biting his lip, moving closer to the waiter.

'Yes?'

'The truth is Hal David wrote most of the lyrics—Hal David! For the last time—Hal David! I’m a composer, an arranger, a pianist, a singer, occasional lyricist—'

'Hmmm,' the waiter chuckled, exposing his red gums, 'Absolutely.' He disappeared to place the order. Burt closed his eyes, and massaged the ridge of his nose.

He eat his breakfast leisurely while humming a melody. A new melody that he banked away inside his head with all the others. Once finished, he put on his coat, placed a tip on the table, and walked towards the exit. As he opens the door to greet the rest of the day—there has been a sudden downpour—he hears a shrill, irritating voice. 'Wi…