When I clocked in that night at six the bar was surprisingly full. We had our usuals, Davy the troubled military officer, Paul the lonely real estate novelist, Freddy the not so successful businessman, and Phil the kind old man, but there were also many new faces, younger faces.
“Hey John, what’s going on?” I ask as I peeked my head behind the bar from the storeroom/employee entrance.
“Apparently, it’s the end of some college semester down the street, beer?” John askes already reaching for a glass to pour me something.
“Nah,” I reply, “I still haven’t paid you back from the last one.”
“Pay? You work here for gosh sakes.” John said filling a glass.
“You and I both know that being employed by a bar doesn’t mean free drinks.” I say scolding him
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In the far back corner sat my own baby grand piano. Okay maybe it wasn’t mine, but seeing that no one else ever played it I feel I have the right to call it my own. I sit on its warn wooden bench and begin to play. Just a short little tune, a common little bar song that I manipulate and punctuate to my liking. Soon I’m playing to a new beat composing my own melody. I was hired to entertain the bar goers, give them something to listen to as they dulled their sorrows or toasted their happiness, and that’s what I did. When I got tired of my improvised tune I paused to rest my hands, and discovered that Phil had moved from the bar stool to a seat at one of the tables closest to my piano. I smile and nod to him, he smiles …show more content…
“Sure it will!” He says setting my now clean glass down, “She’ll prefer you moving and starting a life for yourself rather than living in her basement working at a bar.” He did have a point.
“Okay John I will.” I say, then I finish my shift playing piano at the bar.
The next morning I approach my mom before she heads off to work.
“Hey mom,” I start ringing my hands together a little as I walk into the kitchen where she’s making a boxed lunch for herself.
“Good morning sweetie.” She says to me as she spreads peanut butter on some bread for a sandwich.
“How would you feel if I moved to L.A. to become a singer or pianist?” I blurt out, to be honest I don’t think I could have lead up to it any smoother though. Hey mom I want to move out and leave you forever, just doesn’t sound right.
“Honestly Billy,” she said putting her peanut butter knife down. “I’ve been expecting you to do great things since you were a child.” I was thrown a little off guard, I was not expecting this. No it’s too far, was what I’d thought she would
"One whiskey for me 'an my friend" he muttered, sliding his glass across the counter towards the bartender.
I also don't own the idea, it was requested to me by the wonderful Amanda. Thank you so much! I hope I did this idea justice.
Christian:That's very generous, but you know I don't drink. Please, tell him thanks, but no thanks” (49).
Once he stopped, they cried out, "Sing us a song, you're the piano man! Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feeling alright!"
As I lay there resting, I closed my eyes and just soaked in the joyous sounds of the holiday. I could hear my father chatting with my grandmother, reminiscing of childhood memories and the joy of raising kids. Soft acoustic guitar melodies from the stereo sounded above the snapping and crackling of the fire. The ...
“Goodmorning sweetheart,” my mom was in a very happy mood. I turned to face to her. Before I could say good morning she said “Are you okay?” I replied back, “ Don’t worry It's just because I stayed up doing lots of homework last
So, seeing Devon pull out his revolver, in addition to the other four guns pointing at me, didn’t erupt too much fear in my heart nor did it convince me to bargain off my hidden, life-saving stash of money. At this point, I’m fed up with life and won’t put up a fight. Guess today’s the day I meet God, who probably won’t be pleased with the account I will give. Glancing to my right, the man at the bar is cupping a glass of whiskey with shaky hands. Melissa, who is standing behind the counter, avoids my eyes and pretends to clean a cup. Just last week, we were laughing about politics over two glasses of Sprite and speaking kindly of her government-working husband. This transition in loyalty is disheartening.
“We have a special song that Mr. Christy doesn’t know about – sorry Christy.” Nothing like Fishers light hearted humor and clumsy grin to help shake off my nervousness. He continued. “In honor of everything Mr. Christy has taught us the last four years, we want to play him this song. It is called “Songs My Mother Taught Me.” We changed the lyrics to Mr. Christy for obvious reasons.” The remaining crowd chuckled. “I will now give the mic over to Skyler to give a few words.” I was on the stage, flute in hand and a microphone in front of my face staring into a very familiar audience. Everyone else had left except for the proud students and parents of band. I spoke, now feeling warm and
“Oh there out with the horses. Could you do me a favor and let them know breakfast is done?” “Sure thing mom anything I can do to help.” After everyone got inside and all washed up we sat down and ate the lovely meal mother had prepared for us. After I finished eating I washed my plate and went up to my room to finish unpacking and change.
Just as he sat down before we had a chance to utter a word, the waitress appeared and I ordered a diet with lime, whereas Adam asked for a Pepsi with lime. We acknowledged that we were neighbors and had not had a proper introduction. Conversation came effortlessly for us, as we established that we both shared a love for poetry and writing. However, we did not have much time as The Coffeehouse was getting ready to close for the evening, then Adam asked: “may I give you a ride home?” The rain had finally stopped. On the way home, I asked him what he did for a living, “I work at UPS, mostly for the benefits; however, my true loves are publishing, writing, and magic.” So how exactly did the magic fit in, I asked? “I always had a love for magic since I was a little boy, and if you believe in magic anything is possible” he replied. It was my turn to tell him what I did for a living, which was by far not nearly as exciting as his; I worked as the team leader in the accounts payable department for a non-profit organization. I told him I had been with the firm now for eight years and for the most part enjoyed my job. The firm was in the process of a software implementation of which I am an integral part. My role is to test the software, write the training manuals and teach my department as well as the receivables department how to use the software. “That sounds like a good fit for you, since you enjoy writing, and you must find it a
Despite the seemingly perpetual heat, work had been alright so far. Customers had an average amount of patience and tips were (shockingly) better than average for a Tuesday night — and it certainly helped the weather had cooled from a sweltering ninety-five to a much more manageable seventy-eight. It was the first time in over a week Jonah would be leaving work in a decent mood — but it wouldn’t stop the overwhelming weariness creeping behind his eyelids. And tonight? God, he had a paper to do tonight. Something he couldn’t just bullshit forty-five minutes before it was due. And that meant there was only one option — paying the coffee shop across the street from Pizza Hut a visit.
- I haven't drunk my money's worth yet. - GC, your tab has run out. You're disturbing my customers. -
“You should have killed yourself last week” he said. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the plie. “Thank you” the old man said. (166)
Years of practice has made you a great musician.” He looked me in the eye and said, “I believe in your talent. Now it’s time to show the world what you’ve really got.” His words stimulated me. With firm steps, I walked on to the stage.
The room glowed with the audience’s faces staring straight at me, I was the center of the world for that extremely short time and the only thought going through the audience’s minds was what my music would sound like. After the eternal walk over to the center of the room, I sat down on the bench and wiped my hands on my pants, the nervousness was chilling up my spine, paralyzing my body for what seemed like an eternity. The only roadblock keeping the silence was my reluctance to start, I pushed myself to start, but, nevertheless, could not. Notwithstanding the thought that moved through my brain that one millimeter of accuracy could mean the difference in the audience’s opinion of the song, I raised my hands and played. This is just one of the examples of how music can provide a vivid gift basket of emotions, the only action you take is walking over and opening it