Yahoo! Singing (Open)

[DrDog]

The Empty Orchestra is visited by its most...unusual singer, Al-Adin. While chugging down sugary soft drinks, he ponders what song to sing, as the DJ dusts off the CD labeled "Alladin".

He just isn't quite feeling the mood though. Too much rain lately. Rain. Aha!

He goes up to the DJ and asks his question, and the DJ looks at him and doesn't even need to look through the records.

"no kid. But your welcome to do it yourself."

Al-Adin frown is momentary. He can sing without the music.

He heads up, and the regulars set down the drinks, to preven themselves from dropping them or spewing them in laughing at his antics.



He sings all the parts, although it is certainly lacking the harmony. Today he keeps his antics mild, merely balancing on a one hand on a table, before leaping back onto the stage and doing his deepest voice for Kaa.

[Sam Barkley]

For most of the karaoke bar's patrons, Al's hi-jinx provide a few brief moments of hilarity, but two don't seem that impressed. The first is Sam the Bartender, and he never looks impressed. The second is a man in his mid-forties who is constantly manipulating his Blackberry, occasionally sipping his drink without even bothering to look at it.

[Al-Adin]

Al-Adin ignores mister frumple and goes over to see the bartender.

"How have things been Sam? my regular." He asks, getting his order of rootbeer with a splash of brown sugar and big ice cubes.

[Fractured]

"Alright, Al," Sam sighs, pouring the drink. Though there is a steady traffic to and from the tables, the Empty Orchestra's bar is...empty. And there's a good reason for this.

Whereas most bartenders are happy to lend an ear or, sometimes, for good tippers who pay their tabs, a shoulder to their intoxicated patrons, Sam was the exact opposite. He poured his heart out to his patrons, complained to them, told them tales of woe...it's hard to imagine how the guy stays in business.

"Weelll, you know, I've been hearing this ringing in my ears the past few nights, y'know?" Ah. Tonight we're on imaginary ailments. "Y'know, like a bell? Or a whistle? A whistling bell? Anyhoo. O'course, the doctor's office can't see me until next Tuesday, and I asked them if it was an emergency, and they said, no, it could wait until Tuesday, but I don't know...And then, I have to ask my nephew to take me, because you know my car's in the shop, damn transmission again..."

Al-Adin gets the feeling that Sam's gonna go on talking for as long as he has someone to talk at.

[Al-Adin]

Al-Adin listens eagerly. Slurping his soda. Sam always gave him free refills when he listend!

"I can take a look!" He announces, pulling the bartender over and looking in his ear.

[Sam Barkley]

Sam pushes the enthusiastic amateur doctor away. "Unhand me, you rascal! My arthritis is acting up again, dagnabit!" He looks contemplative for a moment, and mentions, "There's a storm comin'."

[Al-Adin]

Al-Adin pouts. "I don't like storms, lightning is scary. Why is a storm coming?"

[Sam Barkley]

Sam either doesn't hear Al's question or chooses to ignore it. "That reminds me I have to check the shutters and the drains, you know how much work owning a home can be. Stuff is constantly breaking down, falling apart, needing repair, needing mowing, needing trimmed back, needing to comply with the State laws..." he grumbles on, before asking Al if he "Need a refill there, sport?" before his rambling monologue continues, "It's a damn shame we can't get someone in office to cut down on all the goddamn methheads, instead of sending me a fine for two hundred and fifty dollars! cuz my grass is too tall. I'm an old man! I can't cut the grass when my arthritis is actin' up, and my nephew's worthless, don't you know, the shady little punk..."

[Al-Adin]

Al-Adin nods emphatically at the question of more sugar.

"Thats sad. Why don't you get a kid on the street to do it for you? Its cheaper than the fine." Even Al-adin is capable of some mental math. Sometimes. Maybe.

[Bo Albion]

Sure, kid, go check with the street kids for me, huh? An old man's gotta have some help. No crackheads, I want it done right. Ya know, nobody does things right anymore. Why, when I was a kid....

Sam continues on. And on. Eventually he runs out of breath, and Al-Adin is able to escape. None too soon either. He's had 12 rootbeers, sitting there listening. How big is a monkey bladder, anyway?

End scene.