Originally Posted by aydee
It was a hot & lazy summer afternoon. I could hear a muffled roar from the basement. My brothers band was practicing. I was never allowed in. But I'd always open the door just a crack and the sound would thunder out. His band was terrible but it was an incredible sound. Deep and powerful and physical, it would always hit me square in the face.
At the center of this sound was a shiny, sparkly, blue Slingerland which was being pounded by Joshua, the thinnest, pimpliest, nerdiest nerd in my brother's class, but man, he could play those Slingies...
As the hot and lazy summer afternoon transformed into a dark and stormy night, the roar continued. The boys were in the zone and as the strange smell in the basement filled my nostrils I watched transfixed; it was as if I could see the sound pouring from the Marshall stacks. It was a kind of greeny-purpley orange. Very cool.
A knock at the door.
It went unnoticed.
Loud banging on the door.
"CYRIL! NEVILLE! PERCY! JOSH! OPEN UP!!"
"Alex, see what Dad wants, willya?"
I got up and opened the door for them. Delegation. The youngest opens the door.
Dad looked a bit pale. "Mr Obdurat next door is here with a policeman ..."
Mr. Obdurat, was a music lover and he was in his dressing gown. Ever since he moved in next door thats all I ever saw him in. Rumor had it that he'd deliberately loosen his sash every time a neighborhood gal would ride by, but thats all it was. A rumor.
" Sorry to bother you folks, but there's an emergency"!...
"Thank goodness for that!" Mum said, almost spilling the bottle of Scotch she was holding. "I was sure it was going to be another complaint from the Pesters!"
Dad glared at her, "Meg, please try to be serious. Mr Obdurat is obviously in trouble ... so what's the problem?".
Mum made a face at him when he turned to the visitors.
"Someone broke in and stole my Rick Astley CDs!", Mr Obdurat said haltingly, "even Whenever You Need Somebody! I didn't think that anyone would take that!".
I shuffled uncomfortably ...
"Rick Astly's the best jazz artist ever", proclaimed Mr Obdurat. "Even my Kenny G collection doesn't make up for the loss"! Meg noticed the white stripes on Mr Obdurat's dressing gown, & fainted. "She's always liked those stripes" barked Mr Obdurat, "but she always falls to her knees in front of me", he said with a rye smile. "Meg sucks" said dad, "she's always playing beats for money on those drums"
I shuffled even more uncomfortably and I stuttered (if only to change the subject pronto), "Ah, um ... I ... I have a confession to make ..."
" I, I... I cant do double strokes,... I mean I've never heard of Rick Astley". A stunned silence. Ice clinking in mom's scotch. Loudly, as she blinked mindlessly at nothing in particular. .
Slowly sargent Torme Srooper turned his massive pock marked head and stared beadily at me. " Are you a drummer?" he asked hoarsely. His horse whinnied impatiently in the driveway.
" Well, .. I .. I want to be", I whispered, somewhat ashamed. Obdurat chuckled softly as his belly jiggled a quarter note longer than his double chin.
"Officer, this kid is.......