Sunday, July 11, 2010

The Confessions of St. Jaybee - Part One

The following is an excerpt from the classic tragedy "Confessions of St. Jaybee"

The scene: A dungeon deep beneath the Lawrence Welk studio.

Background: The Grand Musical Inquistor, looking a lot like Mr. Welk, is holding our hero Jaybee captive (Actually, he's offered him a comfy chair and a cold beer, so it hasn't occurred to Jaybee to leave just yet.)


The Grand Music Inquisitor (reading from a scroll): Jaybee, for the crime of "serious and repeated acts of bullsh*t about music", you are hereby sentenced to be forced to speak at least one musical truth per year. (Now looking at Jaybee) And let's face it, you're way behind. So, out with it.

Jaybee (Innocently sipping his beer):
I have nothing to hide.

GMI (gently, but mocking, nonetheless):
Of course
you do. Let me help you. It's about a certain band…

JB (Another sip, this time cautiously):
What band?

Oh, you know! That famous one, named after a mammal, but misspelled.

JB (relieved):
Oh, the Beatles. What about 'em?

No, no. Not an insect. A mammal. Besides, who would be embarrassed to admit that they loved the Beatles, (turning to the audience) except me perhaps?

JB (finishing his beer):
That's actually one of the few things I'm not embarrassed about

Let's not even go there. Shall I name the band?

No, that won't be necessary. (Looking at the empty beer can.) Now that you've practically beaten it out of me.

Always the macho man, eh, Jaybee? Well, get on with it.

Okay, I admit it. A long time ago, I used to… love…the Monkees. There, I said it.

Now that wasn't too hard, was it?

Are we done? I have some albums to alphabetize. I'm trying to decide if Jethro Tull belongs under J or T…

J, of course. (looking momentarily pacified, but then suddenly shaking himself out of it) Nice try, but we haven't gotten to the best part yet. Admitting that you once loved the Monkees is no big deal. Let's face it, everybody loved them… at one time or another.

JB (checking the beer can again, remembering that it's empty, suddenly filled with fear):
No, you're not going to make me say it!

You must. You've broken too many laws. Only the unvarnished truth will satisfy the gods of music now!

All right! I'm ready to admit it.

Admit what?

That I still do.

Still do what, Jaybee?

JB: (realizing that another beer is not forthcoming) I STILL LOVE THE MONKEES!!!!

GMI: Wow
Jaybee, I can't believe you actually admitted it. What a girl.

Jaybee collapses. He has died of embarrassment.

GMI: (He
takes out a baton, and begins waving it): Anna one, anna two…

Jaybee's body begins its ascent to musical heaven*, borne by champagne bubbles.

                THE END

            (and yet, to be continued…)



* Or maybe Purgatory. It's up to his wife, who he's made sit through a lot a bad records.

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