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My friend, Leonard had cornered me at The Pour House Café and asked for my help in writing a song.
“Ok, Leonard,” I said, “just what kind of song are you writing?”
“A protest song, I want to write a protest song.”
I hesitated, but knew I had to ask. “What are you protesting, Leonard?”
“Indoor toilets, that’s what, indoor toilets!”
Well, as you can imagine, that caught me by surprise. I stared at him for a moment or two and thought I’d better make sure I heard him right.
“Now let me get this straight, Leonard, you want to write a song protesting indoor toilets? Is that right?”
“You got it. One of the worst things this country ever did…putting toilets in the house where you eat and sleep.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, I heard a report on TV the other day how that germs from the bathroom were found all thru the house. On toothbrushes, hairbrushes, kitchen stuff…you name it.”
I looked down at my plate of eggs and ham and suddenly lost my appetite. I shoved the plate away and shook my head.
“Leonard, you have spoiled a perfectly good breakfast. I really don’t think this is something to discuss while people are eating. Let’s talk about this some other place, alright?”
Leonard looked puzzled. He didn’t connect his subject matter with his surroundings and see how inappropriate it was.
“Alright, but look at what I’ve got so far, ok?”
Against my better judgement I took the sheet of paper he handed me and began to read.
BY Leonard Tubbs
There’s something in your house that ought not be
So, take it out
Leonard looked at me, searching for my reaction.
“Well, what do you think,” he asked?
I thought a moment, then thought some more. What do you say to that?
“Leonard, you have outdone yourself. This is the most unusual song I have ever seen.”
“You liked it?”
“Well, liked is a rather objective word. Let’s just say you have taken an ordinary subject to extraordinary places.”
“I’m not finished with it yet. It will have more verses and a bridge. I’m gonna get right in it.”
I started to say something and changed my mind. How do you reply to that?
“Leonard, why don’t we continue this next time we meet?”
The waitress came over and asked me if I was through with my breakfast.
I handed her my plate and said, “Honey, I’m through with breakfast and maybe dinner too.”
(To be continued)
I was born at home before the doctor could make it. The place was Blue Springs,Ms.
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