Howling at the moon

“Did he come with friends?”

“That’s his band.”

“Ah, come to see him sing?”

“They’re celebrating something. Maybe they found a garage to practice in.”

“I thought they were a softball team.”

“Rocking and rolling.”

“Howling at the moon.”

“The little guy is their singer.”

“Wright really wants to sing.”

“He may get his chance. I was talking to some of them when he sat down next to me and told me he was quitting the band.”

“That’s a weird approach.”

“That’s what I was thinking. But then he started explaining why he couldn’t do it any more, how hard it was, practicing, writing and working. He’s a hairdresser. He said he needed to quit so he could get serious about hair.”

“The guy with the shaved head?”

“Apparently is not serious enough about his hair.”

“Everyone has to make choices.”

“Wright was complaining about how hard it was to keep his place clean.”

“He’s a bachelor, so yeah.”

“I told him I do housework naked.”

“Hence the shouts that came from over there.”

“Wright was so embarrassed, blushed from head to toe.”

“He is so straight for a rocker.”

“But he liked the idea, so I volunteered to come over and clean naked.”

“He agreed?”

“His band loved the idea. Wright couldn’t speak. I think I broke him.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Some guys are too fragile.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in fiction, literature, novels, personal, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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