“‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.'”
Raised eyebrows. “‘Where There is Smoke There is Fire?’ ‘Smoke Gets….'”
“No, done that one.”
Lowered eyebrows. “‘The Pot-Smokers Song?'”
“There is no such song.”
“Believe what you want, but there is.”
“By whom….Neil Diamond.”
She tried to read him, but, as always, got nowhere.
“I’ve got one”.
He motioned her to ‘take the stage.’
“‘Smoking in the Boy’s Room?’ ‘Smoke on the Water.'” Pause. “I always liked that one.”
“What? ‘Smoking in the Boys Room?'”
“No, ‘Smoke on the Water.'” She sang a few words of the song. “Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky.”
“Isn’t that about some studio burning down?”
He liked to know the back-stories of songs. His friends thought him weird, those few he had, but his Dad was a rock star and, early on, taught him to listen beyond the song, beyond the music, to the story inside.
With a roll of her eyes, she nodded. He was too weird sometimes. Only reason she befriended him was cause his Dad was – WOW!
“‘When Smoky Sings….'” Thought for a moment. “Is that about Smoky The Bear?”
“Bears can’t sing.”
“But they can have songs written about them!”
“True, but I don’t think so. At least this song.”
She held in her instant irritation. Just add him, water, anger and stir for a totally irritating boy whose father was a Rock and Roll God.
“Forget it,” waving away his laptop. “Don’t google it.”
“Well for one thing, its stupid.”
“Okay, ‘Smoke Rings in the Dark.'”
“That’s so not a real song.”
“Gary Allen.” He sang. “The night is like a dagger / Long and cold and sharp / As I sit here on the front steps / Blowing smoke rings in the dark.”
She tossed her cards down. “You win. Again.” Stormed out with the bang of the back door.
Why did he have so much to prove? His Dad was…… well, was a superstar. Did anybody in this world not know or like his Dad?
He rose slowly, steadying himself on the couch before heading outside. Step, drag, step, drag, step, drag. Nobody would ever know his face, never scream for it. For him. Throwing panties and bras. Pulling up their shirts for him to autograph their breasts.
Settling on the top step, he pulled out a cigarette and smoked for a few minutes before blowing a smoke ring….. almost, almost perfect.
How true, he knew, how true.
The lyrics used in this story belong to their respective writers.