Improvised post for 30 Days of Writing – #20 – Going Solo.
Jumping in with both hands in an attempt to freestyle keyboard.
This is your last chance to bail before I end up at the bottom of the page.
And by the way, I’m going solo to the opera ward of the psychiatric hospital for shrieking vocalists.
Hopefully, someone will cure me of my problem to sing off-key. I’ve been banned from singing at parties.
I won’t tell you about the time they put out an APB on me from singing in the shower. Now, I just move my lips and pretend to make a sound. It’s better that way.
But my musical deficiency doesn’t stop at the vocal chords.
I’ve also got a percussion problem. I can’t chew gum while playing the bongos.
I don’t even have a set of bongos. But if I did and were to pound the skins, I would have to remove the gum beforehand. However, a foot would be better.
A gum smack flusters my cadence and knocks my palms off kilter. Luckily, I’m kneeling at the time, so when I hit the floor, I fall at gnome height.
I like to watch gnomes going solo in a never-ending walk across the lawn. Why gnomes end up at a home on a lawn – which isn’t a range – I’ll never know or ever get a gnome groove going.
What I do know and think in the darkness of my brain. All gnomes should be pan-seared on a range.
Time to flip the gnome burgers.