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Karaoke
Chapter 5
Dan was starting to get bored. Bored of the alleyway, bored of the smell, bored of being homeless, bored of not SINGING FUCKING KARAOKE! On that last thought he punched a wall, splitting open three of his knuckles
"Argh, you Fucker!" he cursed to himself.
He had just added another ailment to his quickly growing list of ‘reasons to avoid the smelly homeless guy’. Yup, punching walls and swearing at yourself doesn’t exude sanity. Recently Dan had discovered what seemed like a paradox. He moved to the city to be somewhere where there was always something to do, somewhere to go or something happening. And yet now he was homeless and had to spend all his time in the city itself, he felt he had nothing to do, nowhere to go and nothing was happening. He’d spent all his days moving from alley to alley, muttering to himself and feeling confused and desperate. Any human contact he had had recently had either involved getting a beating or simply complete avoidance. To be honest he would have acted in the same way a few months ago if a stinking homeless guy wandered up to you and started to sing ‘California Dreaming’ at him. Even after looks of disgust, these small tit-bits of karaoke seemed enough to sustain him at a level that prevented suicide. These days, his entire life seemed to be about survival … survival from himself.
Dan hated being homeless. He would give anything to go back and change it. Well, almost anything, he still couldn’t last without karaoke, and in fact even after being without it in any substantial form, his craving for it seemed worse that ever. Unlike the more traditional addictions such as illegal substances or cigarettes, there was no chemical imbalance caused. This meant there is no nicotine for your body to wean itself off, no heroin in the system to go cold turkey from, just a desperation that keeps on growing. Sometimes Dan felt like he would kill himself if it wasn’t for the fact that that would mean he wouldn’t take any more karaoke. Yet another paradox. The one thing that is currently destroying his life is the one thing that is keeping him alive.
Dan didn’t know how much time he had spent in the alley, hours must have passed. The day was starting to get dark again. Although Spring was beginning to get into full flow, it seemed the days hadn’t quite caught up with the weather. It still got dark too early. It was time to move on. Picking himself up, he staggered out of the alley, and into the real world.
That was the moment that Dan realised just where he was. In fact he should have recognised it straight away. He had passed this alley so many times, yet a combination of being beaten up, and having a stinking hangover meant he wouldn’t recognise his own mother if she came up and screamed in his face. And that was something his mother used to do on a regular basis before she passed away.
Dan was standing outside his flat. Or rather, he was standing outside his ex-flat. A place that he was cruelly ripped away from. He had barely had enough time to settle in before his landlord had kicked him out.
By the time he had been beaten up and banned from the last karaoke pub in Glasgow, he was already two months behind in the rent, in fact, he hadn’t even turned up to work for around a week. All it took was the occasional phone call to explain how he was still ill, and they seemed to leave him alone. After that fateful night, however, he didn’t even phone in. He just moped around the flat, ignoring the outside world. He felt sick, desperate and depressed. Mornings were spent hiding in the bed, and every afternoon Dan found himself with his singing along to disco hits with his eyes closed. It just wasn’t the same. Without an audience, microphone the fix was just nowhere to be seen. In fact what it did manage to do was frustrate him even more.
It wasn’t long before his Boss, Eric Whinstone, actually turned up on his doorstep. This surprised Dan no end, who during the moments beforehand was screaming ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ at the top of his voice, wearing nothing more than a dressing gown that was four sizes too small for him.
"Boss!" spluttered Dan, and after a delayed moment, put on a rasping voice, and faked a cough, "what brings you here? You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t invite you in, what I’ve got is probably contagious"
‘Probably’ contagious? Shit, way to be a good liar Dan. He let out another little cough, as if that might make up for it.
"And what is it that you’ve probably got Mr. Singleton?" asked Me Whinstone pedantically.
"it’s err… the flu. Yeah …(cough) … influenza. I can barely get up with these dizzy spells" Dan swayed his head to provide evidence of his dizzy spell. Mr. Whinstone rolled his eyes.
"If you’re not at work tomorrow, don’t bother coming back after that either" said Mr. Whinstone
"Yes Mr. Winston" the glare that Dan received for that felt like a dagger through the head. "Sorry, Mr. Whine-stone"
As Dan shut the door, Mr. Whinstone was left wondering why he even bothers with guys like that. He never got any respect for his position, and he always seemed to let scum like Dan Singleton walk all over him. The fact that Eric Whinstone was so spineless that his own family didn’t respect him was a thought that never crossed his mind. But then how could you respect a man who wore grey trousers up to his nipples, and complemented the look with lovely yellow shirts. He looked down at his shirt, it had a coffee stain on it from earlier in the day. He pulled up his trousers a bit more to try and cover it some more. Satisfied with the Job, Eric walked away.
Well at that point Dan didn’t really have much choice but to attempt to go to work. There was still a part of him that wanted to lead a normal life, but everything just seemed so unreal without karaoke. Like there was just no point. He had no care for the working world, a world of money and corruption. So over the following days he spent hours hiding in the staff toilets, singing to himself. On occasion he would attempt to sing to other people, but just get a few puzzled looks, and eventually people just ignored him. Without a reaction there was no buzz. Without a buzz, there was barely any point. Dan’s cravings had gotten so desperate at this point that he didn’t even think about the life he was losing.
* * * *
The strange actions of Dan hadn’t gone unnoticed by Eric Whinestone either. He sat at his desk drumming his fingers, wondering what to do about the situation. Reaching into his top drawer, Eric pulled out a set of marbles and then proceeded to sit on the floor of his office. Marbles were one of the only things in Eric’s life that he truly loved. He had no family, no girlfriend, only his work, and marbles. They helped him relax, and even make decisions. This was something he had to make now. Several choice lay ahead with regard to the fate of Dan Singleton, and to make that decision on his own was overwhelming. There was no way he had the confidence to make critical decisions about other peoples lives without relieving himself of the responsibility or guilt. The ritual was about to begin. In a circle he lay several items. A five pound note, several red pens, a couple of black pens, a stapler and a picture of a hamster. All the while, he ensured no gaps between any of the components. Eric picked out two marbles from his sack, the biggest and the smallest. The smallest was placed into the middle of the circle and Eric hovered above it with his eyes closed. There, he stood motionless for several seconds. Eric was praying. Quite who he was praying to, or why would have been unclear to anyone. As the silent prayer went on, he brought the largest marble at eye level, directly above the centre of his circle. Slowly he opened his eyes, and smiled. With a nimbleness that suggested that this wasn’t the first time he had performed a ritual, Eric used one hand to pull off his tie and tie it around his forehead. The marble was released, it careered down and collided with the small one. With a loud crack that sent a pleasurable shiver up Eric’s spine, the small glass sphere ricocheted across the circle and crashed it into one of the red pens.
Eric smiled. Just the decision he was hoping for.
Suddenly the door burst open and the cleaner walked in.
"Does your bin need emptying love?" she said before looking up.
Her boss was stood with his legs wide, above a circle of pens, money and a framed photo of a hamster. His tie was tied around his forehead, he had a bag of marbles in his hand and he was grinning. The cleaner backed out slowly. She never did quite understand the executives of this company, but guessed that he must be doing something important.
* * * *
Dan found a written warning about his lack of effort lying on his desk. Written in a red pen
Smarmy git he thought.
Still nothing changed. Why would it? After a week, Dan was fired. Who cares? He didn’t. Still doesn’t really. But he bet that Eric was sitting smug, gloating over his power. He headed home. All he could think about was the fact he couldn’t get any karaoke.
Life continued to get a whole lot worse for Dan. It was during that same week that he was kicked out of his flat for missing his third payment. All of his possessions were repossessed to pay off his debts, and he was left on the street.
He had nowhere to go. No friends, no family, no job and no flat. All because he said;
"I’ll try it if you do"
That night Dan needed karaoke more than ever, to sing, to shout , to wail to an audience. Any audience, Dan didn’t care who. He knew he couldn’t stay on the street, and so managed to find a communal back area of a block of tenements. It was pretty good all in all. Plenty of grass, shelter, even a tree or two for him to hide under. Not to mention a whole stack of cardboard for him to hide under. He had only ever been exposed to tramps in movies, and on television, and so thought that having a cardboard home was essential. Kind of like a homeless status symbol. The term cardboard city came to mind, and wondered if it was an actual place. Probably in the USA somewhere. If there was a cardboard city, did that mean there would be a cardboard suburbia too? He liked to think so. Two story cardboard houses, with a little cardboard garage attached to the side, and perhaps a cardboard swimming pool. Luxury property for any self-respecting homeless family.
As he was drifting off to sleep in a haze of mixed up thoughts and feelings, something brushed past his leg. Quickly he looked up, and yet saw nothing. Then another brushing past his leg, and then his back. He looked around and suddenly they were everywhere, swarming all over the place. They began to circle him, arching their backs, and glaring at him with piercing reflective eyes. Dan was surrounded by cats. He looked at the cats, and they looked at him, and suddenly Dan realised what was going on. He had his first audience in over two months! No sooner than he had started to sing ‘I will Survive’ the cats stopped, settled down and became transfixed.. As he carried on the cats began to sing as well. Soon he was with the cats singing at the top of his voice. For one evening, just a few minutes, he forgot all about his problems, his lost life and the general mess hi life was in, and felt better. He felt normal again, despite the fact he was spending the night in a tenement back yard. There was no buzz, just a temporary fix. But that was enough
And now, just a week later, he hadn’t had a fix since. He needed Karaoke. Somehow, anyhow, but he just couldn’t work out where the hell it was going to come from. Seven nights of sleeping rough and Dan could feel himself deteriorating. Nothing in his life meant anything anymore. He would be willing to do just about anything for a dose of Karaoke at the moment. None of this improvised home made shit either, just a decent sound system and an audience that appreciates him.
Dan stood staring at his old flat. Nobody else had moved into it yet, either that or they weren’t very materialistic, and ridiculously obsessive cleaners. Deciding that hanging around was probably a bad idea, he wandered off, in search of his next dwelling
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