========================================================================= Date: Sun, 17 Mar 1996 23:51:20 -0500 Reply-To: KaiSteph@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Steph Lutz Subject: Amateur Night (1/1) X-cc: DawnS1701@aol.com This short travesty can be blamed on a certain co-worker, who insisted on singing a certain song in the elevator... Praises, flames and virtual haggis to KaiSteph@aol.com AMATEUR NIGHT By Stephanie Lutz Joe Dawson sighed loudly and rubbed his eyes before putting a forced smile on his face. It was getting late and he had a splitting headache. This was his tenth audition today for the amatuer night he was planning for Friday, and beginning to think was not such a good idea - which he should have known from the start, ever since Richie suggested it. The kid was probably just trying to play agent again. At any rate, he was discovering the hard way that there was not a whole lot of local talent at the moment. Maybe next time he would have the auditions in San Diego - he d heard there was a killer bass player out that way.... You know, I m not sure that I m really an amateur, the tall blonde sitting in the band area said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. I mean, I got a quarter tossed in my case once when I was playing on the sidewalk... She paused and frowned as if in deep thought. A condom too, she added. Does that, like, count? No it doesn t, Joe was finding it difficult to keep the forced smile. He put the clipboard he was carrying down on top of the Fenster-Rhodes, and pulled up the sleeves of his gray sweater before leaning forward on his cane. Hey - cool tattoo! the girl said, staring at his left wrist, her eyes wide in open admiration. Does it have some, like, deep cosmic meaning? In a way, Joe said shortly. He pulled his sleeves back down. I have a tattoo! she said brightly. It s the world! It s on my shoulder... I m sure it looks very nice, Joe said quickly, before she had a chance to adjust her shirt to show him. Now, let s hear your stuff, okay? His face felt like he was doing a Joker impression. All right! She carefully opened her case and lifted the guitar out. Smoothing the strap proudly across her chest, she perched awkwardly on Joe s favorite stool. She played a few notes, then paused and looked at him. Did I tell you I know all the chords? Yes, you did. That was it, the smile was gone. Okay. She started to play again. Joe picked up the clipboard and walked back to the bar, to see how she sounded from a bit further away. It wasn t much better. Then she started to sing. Smelly cat, smelly cat What are they feeding you? Smelly cat, smell - y cat It s not your fault. Something exploded inside Joe s head. He threw the clipboard on the bar, and grabbed the ever present bottle of scotch. Not bothering get a glass, he took a long swallow. Thank you, Phoebe, he said loudly. I ll let you know. he thought sourly as the club was finally, blissfully **silent**. He took another long drink and settle down to the more pleasant matter of plotting to take Richie s head.... The End