Ready For Lunch
A Failed Grasp Of Science • The Rapper And The Rancher - Part 5
One Minute Wit
A Failed Grasp Of Science
A lot of people don’t understand Newton’s Law of Gravity.
Which is why I am starting a business to pull stranded people down from the sky.
My incredible career idea was inspired by the photo above. I took it during a hot air balloon ride in Albuquerque, New Mexico. We were literally floating over the rooftops of this neighborhood, looking for a place to land. When I saw the photo later, I thought, “what if people started floating and couldn’t get down?”
A Song Parody of Ready For Love by Bad Company
Ready For Lunch
Play the video at the end of the story and sing along!
Slamming down some Rocky Road
Wondering why my brain is freezing
Hanging on
Through the bitter pain
Trying out a new buffet
What I crave, I keep on eating
You should go
Maybe this weekend
Ooo, I’m smelling some steak
Ooo, I’m wanting a shake
I’m ready for lunch
Oh, Baby, I’m ready for lunch
Ready to munch
Oh, gravy, I’m ready for lunch
Yeah
Oh oh oh,
for more lunch
Now I’ve got some meat again
Onion rings are bound to happen
Hunger blues slowly slip away
Many fries and ketchup smears
Fish that’s charred with spices, cajun
You should know, that I want some eggs
Ooo, I’m planning to stay
Ooo, by the dessert tray
I’m ready for lunch
Oh, Baby, I’m finished with brunch
Ready to crunch
Oh, Baby, I’m ready for lunch
Oo oo oo, oh, I’m ready for lunch
Ah hey ah ah ah
I’m ready for more lunch
[musical interlude while I let round one settle]
Ooo, I’m craving some cake
Ooo, I want the whole tray
I’m ready for lunch
Oh, Baby, I’m so over brunch
Ready for lunch
Oh, gravy, I’m ready for lunch
Ready to crunch
Oh, Baby, I’m ready for lunch
Ready to munch
Oh, gravy, I’m ready for more lunch
Ah ah, fried fries
Whoa ho oh, ah oh
Oh oh oh whoah ho
I’m ready for more lunch
Oh, maybe
[unintelligible mumblings of a food hangover]
Story
The Rapper And The Rancher • Part 5
Last time, Issac and Brandon signed a songwriting contract. Brandon went to the studio and recorded a demo of his song She Knows My Face, Not My Heart. A famous singer recorded and released the song.
Later that evening, as the celebration at The Hat Rack was going strong, a sharp-dressed man entered the hat Rack and walked up to Issac and Brandon’s table.
“Brandon Handy?”
“That’s me,” Brandon said.
“I’m Carl Doorhandle from Truckbed Records. I heard She Knows My Face on the radio today. It’s a great song.”
“Thank you kindly.”
“I’ve also heard you sing here a couple of times. I was impressed. I want to talk with you about possibly joining the Truckbed family of artists.”
“Seriously?”
“I never joke about music.”
Brandon looked over at Julie, who nodded a “yes” with her head.
“All right. I’d like that.”
“Great. Here’s my card. Call me tomorrow at 9:00, and I’ll schedule a time for you to come in.”
“I will. Thank you, Carl.”
Once Doorhandle had left the cafe, Isaac punched Brandon in the arm and said, “I told you your time would come.”
“I can’t believe it.”
He turned to Julie and said, “I was hoping to sign with Westbound Records.”
“Westbound is a small label. It focuses on songwriting and production more than actual records. It’s safer. Truckbed is the hottest label in town. They are eager. You are better off with them,” Julie replied.
“Shoowee! Can a day get any better than this?”
“Maybe we can sell some songs to Truckbed,” Issac said.
“It’s a good possibility,” Julie answered.
“That’s right. I got a connection now. Me,” Brandon said and then laughed.
Over the next six months, “Handy & J” sold eight songs. Three more to Westbound and five to Truckbed. Brandon got to record two of them as part of his first album. He sang eight more songs written by other songwriters. Six months later, his first album was released. It got great reviews and lots of airplay. Brandon was a rising star, and his musical dreams were coming true.
His romantic dreams were taking shape also. After nine months of pestering, Julie finally agreed to go out with Brandon, and it was going well.
With the success of Brandon’s album, the record label put him on a busy schedule of promotion and gigs. It became hard to find time to write with Isaac. They squeezed in time when they could. But Brandon was rarely home.
One day they managed to find a couple of hours and started on a promising song. Brandon’s phone rang.
“I thought you turned that off,” Issac said.
“Sorry, I forgot.”
He looked at the caller. It was Doorhandle. He only called with big news.
“It’s Carl. It must be important. Give me a second.”
“Hey, Carl,” Brandon said.
“Brandon. Exciting news. You’re going on tour with Billie Tucker.”
“Yeehaw! When?”
“You leave in two weeks. It’s a four-month tour. You are going to get a lot of exposure.”
“Shoot fire. That’s incredible. Thank you, Carl.”
He hung up the phone.
Issac, I’m going on tour with Billie Tucker.”
“That’s great, B.”
“You don’t sound very happy for me.”
“I am. Your dreams are coming true. But mine seems to be ending.”
“What do you mean?”
“How are we going to write songs when you’re gone all the time.”
“Don’t worry, Isaac. We’ll make it work. I will record songs on my phone and send them to you. You can write the lyrics, and we’ll try them out when I get back.”
“I guess. It won’t be the same.”
“Come with me on tour then.”
“Right. Sit around doing nothing all day while you do your thing. No thanks. It’s cool. I knew this day would come. Come on. Let’s go tell Julie.”
While Brandon was off getting famous, Isaac sat around the apartment bored. He started spending too much time at The Hat Rack. Julie had seen it before and approached him.
“Isaac, you need to quit moping around and find another songwriting partner.”
“I never worked with anyone but Brandon. I don’t know if I could.”
“You won’t know until you try.”
“I don’t want to ruin things with Brandon.”
“He’ll understand. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just life. You two can always write together when there’s time. But you ain’t married to him. And I don’t want to see you slip into a bad place.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Good, I will give you a couple of numbers to call. You know singers are a dime a dozen here.”
Isaac laughed. “Yup. Thanks, Julie.”
“Hey, you’re family,” Julie said and hugged Isaac.
Over the next couple of weeks, Isaac tried songwriting with four different singers. A couple of songs were promising, but it just wasn’t the same. Isaac decided to go back to New York for a while to see his Mama and clear his head.
Isaac stayed with his mother and spent time with old friends. They were all impressed that he became a songwriter. It was a good feeling to be recognized for being good at something. But they all kept asking when he was going back. It seemed like everyone thought he didn’t belong in New York anymore. He was a “Nashville songwriter” now. His mood swung from high to low daily.
One afternoon Issac was sitting on the couch at his Mama’s house when his friend Spenser called.
“Isaac, my G. A bunch of us is going to the open mic tonight. You wanna go and do some rhymes? It’s been a long time.”
“I don’t know, Spenser. I ain’t in no mood for bad singing.”
“It ain’t about singing, bruh. It’s about friends.”
“You’re right. What time?”
“9:00. You know where.”
“I’ll be there.”
“That’s right. Check you out.”
“Later.”
Nine o’clock rolled around, and Isaac and a half-dozen friends were sitting at a couple of tables in the Downstairs Club listening to bad renditions of Neil Diamond songs. Then it was Isaac’s turn.
“Do your thang, Issac,” one of his friends said.
Isaac walked up to the microphone, looked at the people in the room, and said, “I walked out of this room in the middle of this one last time. Tonight I finish it.”
His friends all clapped and shouted encouragement.
“Yo, rats everywhere
Dancing like Astaire
Ask me if I care
Face it…”
Three minutes later, he finished. The room burst into applause. Isaac sat back down and smiled. It felt good.
A man who had been sitting in a dark corner got up and walked over to Isaac’s table.
“We talked in the street about a year ago, didn’t we?” Vyn L. Revolver said.
“Yo, man. That’s right. Man, I did it. I went to Nashville and became a songwriter.”
“I know. She Knows My Face is a great song.”
“You know my song?”
“Music is my business. I keep up.”
“Well, thanks. And thanks for the advice. You changed my life.”
“No, you changed your life. I just gave you some advice. You did the work.”
“Well, I never would have done it without that talk.”
“Okay. Listen. You free tomorrow?”
“All day.”
“Come by Revolver Records about three in the afternoon. I want to talk a little more.”
“I’ll be there at 2:30.”
Revolver laughed. “This ain’t Nashville. 3:00 is good.”
“Alright, 3:00.”
Issac walked into the office of Revolver Records at 2:55.
Before Isaac could say anything, the receptionist said, “Good afternoon, Mr. J. Mr. Revolver is expecting you. Please go on in.” Then she motioned to the door on her right.
Issac walked into the office where Revolver was chatting with Sidestreet T, the hottest rapper on Revolver Record’s label. One of Isaac’s biggest influences and idols.
“Isaac, I want you to meet Sidestreet.”
Issac just stared, not knowing quite what to say.
Sidestreet noticed the silence and laughed.
He put out his hand and said, “What’s cookin’, J? You want to write some rhymes with me?”
The End
Happy Monday. Thanks for reading and responding. You make it fun.
Mark
Made me smile. Dreams do come true. All the time. Gotta believe. Until then, Sharp Dressed Man (ZZ Top)!
Well, ya know, all those people still floating around up there are the ones who didn't listen when their mom told them to tie a string around their finger. Mine told me it was so I wouldn't forget something, but I think she just didn't want to scare me. In her mind, a loose string can always be grabbed from below. Until she confessed to me many years later, Mom was the only one who knew my inatentive, forgetful brother was a floater.