Gulf Comanche
Guru
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2007
- Messages
- 1,047
- Location
- U.S.A.
- Vessel Name
- Old School
- Vessel Make
- 38' Trawler custom built by Hike Metal Products
THE OLD PIANO PLAYER:
> >
> >
> > A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar.
> > Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he
> > took the "Piano Player Wanted" sign from the
> > window and handed it to the bartender.
> >
> > "I'd like to apply for the job," he said.
> > "I was an F-4 driver, flying off carriers back in
> > 'Nam , but when they retired the Phantom all the thrill
> > was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to
> > play the piano at the Officer's Club happy hours, so
> > here I am."
> >
> > The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking
> > old guy, but it had been quite a while since he had a piano
> > player and business was falling off. So, why not give him a
> > try.
> >
> > The seedy pilot staggered his way over to the piano while
> > several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third
> > bar of music, every voice was silenced.
> >
> > What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike
> > anything heard in the bar before. When he finished there
> > wasn't a dry eye in the place.
> >
> > The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked
> > him the name of the song he had just played.
> >
> > It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm
> > Going Balls To The Wall For You" he said. After a long
> > pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he said "I wrote
> > it myself."
> >
> > The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the
> > piano player just went on into a knee-slapping,
> > hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping.
> > After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the
> > applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the crowd
> > the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner
> > Light."
> >
> > He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone
> > in the room was enthralled. He announced that it was the
> > latest rendition of his song, "Spread 'em Baby,
> > It's Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The
> > Centerline", excused himself and headed for the john.
> >
> > When he came out the bartender went over to him and said,
> > "Hey, fly boy, the job is yours; but, do you know your
> > fly is open and your pecker is hanging out?"
> >
> > "Know it?", the old fighter pilot replied,
> > "Hell, I wrote it.
> >
> >
> > A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar.
> > Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he
> > took the "Piano Player Wanted" sign from the
> > window and handed it to the bartender.
> >
> > "I'd like to apply for the job," he said.
> > "I was an F-4 driver, flying off carriers back in
> > 'Nam , but when they retired the Phantom all the thrill
> > was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to
> > play the piano at the Officer's Club happy hours, so
> > here I am."
> >
> > The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking
> > old guy, but it had been quite a while since he had a piano
> > player and business was falling off. So, why not give him a
> > try.
> >
> > The seedy pilot staggered his way over to the piano while
> > several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third
> > bar of music, every voice was silenced.
> >
> > What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike
> > anything heard in the bar before. When he finished there
> > wasn't a dry eye in the place.
> >
> > The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked
> > him the name of the song he had just played.
> >
> > It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm
> > Going Balls To The Wall For You" he said. After a long
> > pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he said "I wrote
> > it myself."
> >
> > The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the
> > piano player just went on into a knee-slapping,
> > hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping.
> > After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the
> > applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the crowd
> > the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner
> > Light."
> >
> > He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone
> > in the room was enthralled. He announced that it was the
> > latest rendition of his song, "Spread 'em Baby,
> > It's Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The
> > Centerline", excused himself and headed for the john.
> >
> > When he came out the bartender went over to him and said,
> > "Hey, fly boy, the job is yours; but, do you know your
> > fly is open and your pecker is hanging out?"
> >
> > "Know it?", the old fighter pilot replied,
> > "Hell, I wrote it.