Our gracious host, Rochelle, at Friday Fictioneers
encourages us to be creative by writing a story in
100 words or less using the photo shown below.
Here’s where the photo prompt took me.
Tag: California
Fell Short: Strawberry Alarm Clock
Written for Song Lyric Sunday –
“Talented with Potential, but Didn’t Pan Out”.
Here’s where the theme took me.
Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em
Written for Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag #8 February Monthly Challenge
where we’re asked to write about a song by any group or solo singer
beginning with the letter C or D.
Formed in San Jose, California in 1970, The Doobie Brothers are known for their vocal harmonies and their flexibility in performing across numerous genres. Active for 50+ years, with their greatest success during the 1970s, the group is still performing and touring today.
So, what’s up with their name? Well, it’s really not that hard to figure out but the story goes that during the formative days while the group was trying to come up with a name, the guy who lived next door and hung out with them said “Since you’re always smoking pot, why not just call yourselves ‘The Doobie Brothers’?” The band members couldn’t deny that was true but thought the name was “really dumb”; they decided to go with it just until they came up with a better name but they never did.
The Doobie Brothers improved their playing by performing live all over Northern California in 1970. They attracted a particularly strong following among local chapters of the Hells Angels and got a recurring gig at one of the bikers’ favorite venues, the Chateau Liberté in the Santa Cruz mountains, playing there through the summer of 1970. A set of demos, which showcased dual lead electric guitars, three-part harmonies and some wicked drumming, caught the ear of the Warner Brothers’ staff and eventually earned the group a contract before the year was out.
Breakthrough success came to The Doobies after the 1972 release of their album “Toulouse Street” which contained the hits “Listen To The Music” and “Jesus Is Just Alright”. A string of hits followed, including “Long Train Runnin’” and “China Grove’.
“Listen To The Music” was written by lead singer and guitarist Tom Johnston and was the Doobie Brothers’ first big hit. Upon the release of the single, Cash Box said that it’s “the group’s mellowest rockin’ mood yet, one that could see them through to chart territory with AM play.” The staff of Billboard consider it the Doobie Brothers’ best song, saying that it “ranks high in the pantheon of rock n’ roll feel-good hits” and should “get your foot tapping and bring a bit of a smile to your face.”
“Listen To The Music” remains a staple of adult contemporary and classic rock radio. The band uses it as an encore song during live shows. The Doobie Brothers were inducted into the Vocal Group Hall Of Fame in 2004 and the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame in 2020. The group has sold more than 40 million records worldwide.
Let’s listen to some Doobie Brothers; smoke ’em if you got ‘em.
This is “Listen To The Music” by The Doobie Brothers
LYRICS
Don’t you feel it growing, day by day
People getting ready for the news
Some are happy, some are sad
Whoa, gotta let the music play
What the people need is a way to make ’em smile
It ain’t so hard to do if you know how
Gotta get a message, get it on through
Oh, now momma don’t you ask me why
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
All the time
Well I know, you know baby, everything I say
Meet me in the country for a day
We’ll be happy, and we’ll dance
Oh, we’re gonna dance our blues away
And if I’m feeling good to you and you’re feeling good to me
There ain’t nothing we can’t do or say
Feeling good, feeling fine
Oh, baby, let the music play
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
All the time
Like a lazy flowing river
Surrounding castles in the sky
And the crowd is growing bigger
Listening for the happy sounds
And I got to let them fly
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
All the time
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
All the time
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
Whoa, oh listen to the music
All the time
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Tom Johnston
Listen to the Music lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc
NAR©2024
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
NIP TUCK
“Attribution, retribution, convolution, resolution! All I am saying is give Reese a chance!”
Sprawled out in the stern of our cabin cruiser, my wife Reese drunkenly belted out her version of John Lennon’s hit song. I was piloting the boat on our return trip from a weekend wedding celebration on Catalina Island; Reese’s sister Margaux had gotten married … again.
Like her sister, Reese had a terrible track record in the marriage department. She was on her third husband – recording industry mogul David Hamlin – when we began our affair. I was a confirmed bachelor living very comfortably in an exclusive penthouse in the city. After her divorce I moved into Reese’s mountain-top estate in Bel-Air, California. I had the dubious distinction of becoming husband number four.
I’m Dr. Jeremy Phillips, plastic surgeon to the rich and famous in Beverly Hills; Reese was one of my patients. As her doctor and lover, I learned her deep dark secrets: her expensive cocaine habit, compulsive shopping on Rodeo Drive, her penchant for Grey Goose and an addiction to plastic surgery. She was beautiful in everyone’s eyes except her own. She wanted me to turn her into a goddess, which I did.
When drunk Reese could be either a sexy vixen or a slutty bitch; tonight was definitely the latter. She struggled into an upright position, slowly got to her feet and staggered toward me, one hand grasping the boat railing and the other a bottle of vodka.
“For fuck’s sake, Jeremy, why do you always have to wear that ridiculous outfit? You look like a stupid overgrown kid playing dress-up!” Reese slurred. She drained the bottle, dropping it on the deck.
“This is proper nautical attire, darling, perfectly appropriate for every occasion” I replied. “But you don’t know the meaning of proper and appropriate. You’re all but falling out of your dress.”
Reese ran her hands up and down her tanned body, laughing as she hiked her dress up around her waist revealing her perfectly sculpted derriere. She wriggled herself between me and the steering wheel and lowered her top; her magnificent breasts shimmered in the moonlight.
“What’s wrong, Captain? Don’t you like the way I look? All the other men do” Reese purred tauntingly. “Margaux’s new husband loves every inch of me. He can’t get enough! You know, Jeremy, you always were a lousy lay. Maybe that’s why you got this big bad boat – to compensate for your tiny dick!” and she laughed again.
“Darling Reese, you’re nothing but a drunken whore. You disgust me!” I snarled and she reached up to slap my face. I grabbed her wrist and she looked up at my enraged face, her eyes wide with uncharacteristic fear. And in that moment she knew.
I shoved her out of the way and she fell, hitting her head with a sickening thud. Putting the boat in neutral I quickly checked on Reese; she was dead, a large jagged crack in her forehead oozing blood. Carefully I adjusted her dress and looked around the boat making sure nothing was out of place.
We were near Marabella Marina but just out of earshot. Heading for the dock I placed a frantic phone call. “Mayday! Mayday! Emergency on board the ‘Nip Tuck’! We need an ambulance at Marabella. My wife is badly injured. Hurry!”
The police asked me a few routine questions but it was obvious Reese’s death was a tragic accident. My wife clearly had too much to drink; she lost her balance and fell. It happened so fast I couldn’t prevent it … even if I wanted to.
NAR © 2020
YOU REAP WHAT YOU SEW
“Grundy, you old son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing here?” exclaimed Ian Simms.
“Same as you, Ian, and your brother, Carter. Attending the reading of your father’s will. May he rest in peace.
“Carter, look who’s here!” declared Ian to his twin. “It’s the one and only Grundy!”
“It’s been a while, Grundy. I can’t even recall the last time I saw you” remarked Carter.
“I believe it was your sixteenth birthday – the day before your mother deserted your father and shipped both of you off to military school.”
“You know, Grundy, there was a time when you showed a bit more respect to me and my brother. You used to call me ‘Master Carter’ and my brother ‘Master Ian’ – back when you were my father’s lowly valet.”
“Yes indeed – when you behaved like the spoiled crowned princes of Palm Springs. I’d say we’re on equal footing now, Carter.”
“Watch your mouth, old man” snarled Carter. “Remember you were just a servant!”
“Were being the operative word. Here’s your father’s attorney now. Let’s get on with this, shall we?”
“Good afternoon, everyone. Please be seated. I’m Lester Garrison, Mr. Simms’ attorney, and we’re gathered here today for the reading of his will. All right then, let’s begin.” Garrison cleared his throat:
• “I, Franklin Theodore Simms, being of sound mind and body declare this to be my last will and testament.
• To my former wife, Gloria Morrow Simms, I leave a dildo so she can go fuck herself. I’m sure she didn’t have the decency to attend today but there was never anything decent about her.
• To my sons Carter and Ian I leave both the amount of $19.79 which represents the year you were born. Perhaps if you had bothered to call or visit me just one time in the past 24 years the amount would be substantially higher; however that is not the case. You reap what you sow, boys.
• To the San Diego Zoo I leave $2.5 million dollars because animals are infinitely nicer than humans.
• The remainder of my estate, all my worldly possessions and $18.5 million dollars I leave to my one true friend – Samuel Grundy. Sam, you were never just my valet; you were my brother. You were the only one who remained when my family abandoned me. And when I became sick, you cared for me, refusing any income. We spent many hours in the garden by the weeping willow tree playing chess, sharing memories, baring our souls.
• A note to my sons: if you hadn’t been so self-centered you would have known Mr. Grundy’s first name. Instead you treated him like chattel and called him simply ‘Grundy’. Shame on you both!
• My lawyer already knows that I don’t want a funeral. I’m to be cremated and my ashes buried under the old willow tree where I spent my final days with Samuel Grundy.
• See you at the tree, Sam. The rest of you ingrates can go to hell.”
NAR © 2019
inspired by Fandango’s One Word Challenge (FOWC)of 24 September 2022, spite
The Elephant's Trunk 