Had it not been for the Best Buy Extended Warranty he bought on his 56 inch plasma, his television would have been que'd in some fluorescent lit repair shop waiting on some one named Hausean to discover that over 856 hours of Guitar Hero had melted the DC power inverter to the Eludium Q 39 XP modulator. As it was, all he had to do was take his TV back to the store where they charge him a 15% restocking fee, a 5% service fee to pull the Demo model off the shelve because the model had been discontinued, and 3% clean up fee. He returned the rental U-Haul after unload the TV in his home.
But no matter. He had his TV back.
Reaching into his pocket for his Steve Lukether pick he managed to snag at a TOTO concert from the the third row, he felt the wadded piece of paper that was the ticket the cop had given him just a short while ago. $150 fine. He could buy three bluetooth ear pieces for that price. But what the hell. His phone didn't really work anyway. It was made by Fisher-Price and he bought it at a yard sale for $.50 to try and fit it. But nothing he did these days seemed to help him feel like he fit in any where.
He tossed the puke yellow piece of paper on the coffee table and slumped back into his couch. Looking at the stack of empty Little Debbie wrappers and crushed Rock Star cans, he noticed something written in red on the back of the ticket. A red, fine point sharpie, he thought to himself. Some one was having pen envy. He smoothed out the paper and read the chilling note: I know who you are. 7 PM, July 12th, Policeman's Ball. We need a jazz band. Are you up to it Big Boy?
Was some one toying with him? His heart either skipped a beat or the ephedra and caffeine were catching up with him. A gig? Was this fate opening a door that had for so long been closed?
His mind began racing on who he would call. Tony Lips was dead. But there were plenty of trumpet players out of work who could blow. He heard the Randy Brecker was looking for a part time job to supplement his online Bejeweled addiction. Knuckles still had a drums kit. Maybe he could scrape up some loose change to help him by some new sticks. Apparently he used his last pair as kindling in his hibachi to roast a lame duck. Paul Jim Long was an easy call on bass. The man looked for any excuse to get out of the house. Few knew that Paul Jim Long's wife was the gourmet cat recipe blogger featured on the local morning TV news show and had been spending 15 to 18 hours a day on her computer. Even the cyber sex with her was poor.
All that was left was a keyboardist. He wondered if he should even make the call. What would he say? They're last meeting hadn't gone well. How was he suppose to know he was allergic to F#? He would have changed the key. But it wasn't one of those medical conditions you talked about. But today, thanks to Dr Phil, most people are at least aware of the condition known as Inharmonic coananoteidosis. He should at least make the attempt. He had spent that last 7 years re-writing the Real Book to take out all the F#'s. He wondered if the the Gb's would pose a problem, but there wasn't time to worry about accidentals right now. He had to act now or all could be lost.
