Patricia had been plagued by that song all her life. It undermined her reputation at every turn. No one took her seriously.
One day, she decided she’d show them. “Now they’ll have to take me seriously.”
By the time her top came off, everyone was taking her very seriously indeed.
I sang my song, and the robot listened intently.
“Let me prove that I can play. Let me add a solo, at the end,” it asked.
I recorded its solo, mixed it in with the song, and we both listened to the results.
The robot seemed content.
I was uneasy.
Writer’s / composer’s / performer’s / music producer’s note: this is the version of the song I originally intended to post yesterday, but I needed help to produce the synth solo at the end, which is why the original version fades out, instead of reaching the original ending I’d recorded. I won’t take credit for the synthy addition, but the person who contributed them wishes to remain anonymous (but not out of shame, from what I can tell.)
Today, instead of a 50-word story, I offer you a 50-word song, which I composed, recorded and mixed today, all by myself.
Click the play button to hear the results:
Robots can’t play
Ukelele
Their fingers are all wrong
And they’re much too strong
They’d squeeze it too tight
Plus they can’t fly a kite
Robots can’t play
Ukelele
They don’t know ’bout melody
Mess up the harmony
They can get in the rhyth’um
But a uke isn’t a drum
The song was stuck in his head. He couldn’t remember the lyrics, but the melody wouldn’t go away. As he hummed tunelessly, others picked it up and also couldn’t get it out of their heads. Soon, everyone was humming it. And that’s how the song virus destroyed civilization on Earth.
“He sees you when you’re sleeping, He knows when you’re awake,” sang Tom.
“Why are you singing that song? We’re in September,” said Jim.
“Didn’t you hear? Santa Claus is now a homicidal maniac.”
“I knew that. So?”
“Do you really think he still keeps track of the current month?”