Friday Fictioneers: Dollar Fifty and Cameraman

 

BEGIN TRANSMISSION.

 

By some ungodly grace of something smelling vaguely of brimstone, I have two little microsongs for today’s Friday Fictioneers. Last time I wanted to try out some kind of micro-fiction songwriting and here I realize this was probably the worst possible week to try it. But now you get two songs, one serious for the actual Fictioneers entry and one made up when I was at my internship a few weeks ago.

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Image Copyright: G.L. MacMillan

Image Copyright: G.L. MacMillan

 

Word Count: 99 (not counting the second round of the chorus)

Genre: Acoustic Rock(?)

Title: Dollar Fifty

 

 

What do you think

You think I don’t know

Words at my fingers and

Dragons in spaceships

In my mind. It can’t be

That bad. I’m better than most.

 

Well, the tank’s gone empty

And the pond’s been drained by Nestle

Who’s selling my life for a dollar fifty

A bottle, except to me

 

We got off on the wrong foot

Let’s walk for a little while together

Maybe it’ll rain along the way, I’m

Thirsty, after all. Or you could stay

On iron ocean waves, bladed and tall

Making me blood to get a bandage

 

Well, the tank’s gone empty

And the pond’s been drained by Nestle

Who’s selling me life for a dollar fifty

A bottle, except to me

And I’m tired.

 

 


 

 

 

I noticed too late that I didn’t think of any kind of time signature or rhythm. That’s what I get for not being the most musical person in the world. And for writing this song with a combination of Irish folk and moody 60’s-70’s music playing in the background.

But more seriously, to heck with Nestle.

 


 

 

Word Count: 265

Genre: Satirical Blues

Title: Cameraman

 

It’s about 7 o’clock on a Wednesday.

Regular crowd pitches chairs.

There’s a middle-aged man just across from me,

Been here since the earlier state fair.

He says, “Son what’s up with the camera?

I’ve never seen it here before.

But it’s big and it’s neat and probably not cheap.

I couldn’t work it, I’m sure.”

 

Give us some coverage, you’re the cameraman.

Give us some coverage tonight.

We’re all in the mood to be on TV

We’re gonna play all into the night.

 

Now Carl at the studio’s the boss me.

Makes me work on my off-day

He’s quick to yell and slow to tell

Because he knows I work for his pay

He says, “Mike, I think you’re running late”

As a frown carves its way to his face

He says, “I’m sure if you worked twice as hard”

“Then I’d finally give you that raise.”

 

Give us some coverage, you’re the cameraman.

Give us some coverage tonight.

We’re all in the mood to be on TV

We’re gonna play all into the night.

 

It’s a pretty good crowd for a Wednesday

And the park manager gives us a wave.

But he knows it’s the band we’ve come to see

And he should really just go away.

 

And the band, it’s sounding honky-tonky

And there’s a summery taste in the air.

Folks sit behind me and say without speech,

“Boy, why are you standing there?”

 

Give us some coverage, you’re the cameraman.

Give us some coverage tonight.

We’re all in the mood to be on TV

We’re gonna play all into the night.

 

 


 

 

Note: My bosses’ name isn’t Carl. He’s not a jerk. I don’t get paid.

But standing there recording a local Oldie’s band for an hour and a half made my brain work in ways I hadn’t expected.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

END TRANSMISSION.

 

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