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JBB, No such thing as transitional musak after the Apocalypse


Five: November 13, 2012

After a few days of waiting for ‘better winds’ (during which one of Mister Stimpson’s ‘cousins’ showed up with some money he owed) and ‘a restock of supplies’ (wherein, Dansel was sent with the shotgun for two-day’s journey to the nearest corner store, to fetch Stimpson some lottery tickets, a can of Pringles and then Dansel secretly checked the latest Red-and-Gold-Reserve Presents Our Fair Federal District’s Fantasy Football Scores), then at last, finally waiting for another nightfall itself, (and neither young person was courageous enough to ask why Mister Stimpson wanted to wait that long), the three black Washingtonians walked down a crooked dock and descended into that rickety boat ride the old Boatman Stimpson had promised.

It wasn’t a very large or impressive dingy, and things were also shaky at first while Dansel was made to understand that, no, he couldn’t pace or peer over the edge at starlit-everything.

“Sit.” Said Boatman Stimpson.

“But then, what?” and Dansel grumbled privately, until at the end he exploded, “I just know the Redskins are out there winning, somewhere on TV.  Damn that Cannoneer for making me hope like this.  I swear!  All over my body, it feels as though it itches–”

“Young man, you hurry up and wait.” Stimpson confirmed, flaring knobbed fingers at him.  Then he turned the motor off, now that they were halfway across the Anacostia River.  Next, the Boatman hoisted a sail—which surprised Dansel most, because the young man had financed this journey, personally, with several blue Marion Barry Bills.  And that looked to be the way their night would pass on, rocking gently over the quicksilver Anacostia, until Gyra began singing.

All along, the young lady had been biting her lip at sight of the exquisite full moon, and now she was giving into her own sort of itches.  Gyra opened her mouth to let out something that definitely confirmed she hadn’t finished any kind of schooling—least of all for her voice.  The trembling instrument of hers was too high and off-key at times.  Worse, it appeared capable of catching itself not able to get a certain note, and save the poor hearer by going down an octave… but then not in all such instances.  Gyra got ruddy, she got inventive—she seemed impressed with herself for making up good lyrics so fast, except for at one point in the middle, where she clearly forgot her next line.  She was constantly running out of breath.  Also, for all the two men could guess, she miscalculated by a sixth at one point, but whatever–In the end, Dansel Darrons and the Boatman Stimpson found themselves completely exposed to something sweet but hurt that the young woman must have secretly lullabied herself with, far too often:

Never in DC by randomwitty

Never in DC
song and lyrics by Puja B. Canta

Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

The first time I saw the moon, girl, she was full.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.

Holding my lover’s hand, Mamma Luna pulled on us, and it was, a thrill.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

Then my love, he explained to me that white stone was pullin’ on that sea.
Mrs. Moon was pulling him and us, and all the world, but especially me.


Then he said, “Girl, what’s this dumb look I see?  Hadn’t you learned girl, about these scientific things?”

And I said, “No, only in my dreams.”  And I said, “No, we never learned that in DC.”

Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

The first time I went to college, girl, they made me feel, a fool.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.

Learnin’ all kinds of things about that-there white stone.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

They said Mrs. Moon, made me to even bleed on her time.
Then why hadn’t nobody fixed my watch to hers before?  I still didn’t know.


Teacher said, “Girl, what is this silly frown I see?  Hadn’t you learned girl, about these mathematical things?”

And I said, “No, only from a boy I used to see.”  Raised my hand and said, “No, he didn’t get–kids never really learn that, in DC.”

Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

Summertime came ’round, and for all my hard-thinkin’ I was now alone.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.

Just me, the sand, my perplexities, the water and that big roar.


That was when, Mrs. Moon, herself, finally turned to me, and she said—“Lookit here, my old girl-friend, I’m gonna fix you up, like I never fixed anyone before.”

And in that white-night beam, I saw some mother’s son, like I never saw the Man in the Moon before.  Roar.

And this fine stranger he said, “Girl, what is this bewilderment I see?  Hadn’t you learned girl, about astronomical men like me?”

And I said, “No, learning was never this effective for me.  And I said, no, the school system is not THIS GOOD in DC!  Ha ha ha!”

And he heel-kicked his boots going,
Summer world-white like it was snowin’,
My heart moved, I feared it was showin’,
Anacostia River turned to ice, and suddenly I was flowin’

He heel-kicked his boots still goin,
I felt our friction, it was slowin’
But then my heart blasted off and we were racin’
How many light years had I been waitin?

On, the Moon,
He heel-kicked his moon boots still goin’,
Said we may fall in love light and slow, but never at a rate less than 1/6 of 9.8 meters per second.
Same gravitational pull that made-the-tides, then we fell back-to-Earth-again.

And, let me tell you he said, “Girl.  Haven’t you ever danced, with the Man in the Moon before?”

And I said, “No, I’d lost my heart in DC.”  And I said, “No, I learned, but I never did dare dream.”

This was fate, Mamma Moon was waitin’.  And fatin’ hard, all for me…

To get up out of wherever folks said I was,
And fight, and learn, and love myself, like he loved me…

Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.
Boom crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

And now I go about, with Mrs. Moon herself as my mother-in-law.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Crash.

We three get to go where all the other stars do, and you need to get on an A-list just to hear educated-me speak.

Crash’a boom-boom.  Roar.

And her little man and I,
we stay on the shore alone sometimes,
measure gravitational pull together,
then we fall into a very satisfied sleep.
Cause now I know what I’m capable of and I feel complete.


Woe, woe, I once feared I could never reach.

Oh, woah, isn’t so nice when a woman realizes DC dreams?

In a very odd way, it made them like Gyra a little less (wouldn’t anyone?), but yet love her a painful-great deal more.*

*Pending whether or not readers quit this blog/my singing, entirely.

1 The Red and Gold Reserve :: 2 Authentic Agitation :: 3 Bringing the Old Girl to Water :: 4 Message from a World of Fear, Insanity :: 5 No such thing as transitional musak after the Apocalypse :: 6 Fate and Basketball :: 7 Party in Mount Pleasant

Filed under: hurty singing, Jawbreak Blue

About the Author

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I've always wanted a place to share my weird, wild, nature-loving, talking animal, multicultural and multilingual fantasy fiction stories online. I also have a fashion blog!

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