As the most recent performer wound down, Mag felt a sharp poke in the side of his left thigh and yelped in surprise. "...The hell?" he muttered as he looked down for the cause, and spotted a small scrap of paper floating stationary about three feet off the floor. As he studied it, the paper suddenly flicked left and right several times before returning to its original position.
Giving it a dubious look, Mag reached out and plucked the paper out of the thin air that, for just a moment as he tugged on it, seemed to have quite a firm grip. Lifting it to one of the small lamps on the table where the equipment for the karaoke night rested, he saw that it was, in fact, a short note in an exquisitely precise handwriting. His eyebrows shot up into his hair when he saw the signature. and he read the entire note. Twice.
Then he looked down at where nothing apparently stood to his left. "You're serious?"
There was a firm, but not painful, poke in his leg.
"You know, nobody's going to..."
The next poke was quick and closer to painful. Mag shut up. He took a deep breath. "Okay." Turning back to his mike as the audience burst into applause. he announced, "Thank you, Terrence! Okay people, keep your seats, we've got a special request and I need the stage clear for a moment." He busied himself cuing up the requested song -- it was a wonder he had it, obscure as it was -- while watching the stage with one eye.
"Just a moment, folks," he temporized, "Gotta let our performer get up there, he's not the quickest of... Ah, and I think he's ready," Mag concluded as he saw what he had been waiting for -- the wireless microphone the others had been using suddenly picked itself up off the stool on which Terrence Knight had left it. It swung about in what Mag belatedly realized was a flourish, and with an embarrassed cough he started the track.
A rambling piano intro, not too much unlike "Heart and Soul", wandered out of the speakers and led the listeners on for a bit before settling into a catchy little tune not quite jazz and not quite ragtime but somewhere between them and heading towards Broadway musical in style.
On stage, the microphone bobbed to the beat.
Katy nudged Mag. "What's with the instrumental interlude and the bouncing mike?"
Mag chuckled. "It's not an instrumental. You just can't hear the singer."
She studied him with head tilted and brows furrowed. "I can't.. what?"
Silently he handed her the note. When she looked up with wide eyes, he gestured with his chin at Evangelia and Space Mage, who seemed to be caught somewhere between giggles and squeeing. Katy blinked. "I thought it was a gag."
Mag smiled, a bit too smugly for someone who had half-shared the same opinion up until a few minutes earlier. "Nope." The music ended and the two teenaged heroines rushed the stage, gathering up ... something invisible in their arms. Mag laughed out loud at the sight, and at the lyrics the karaoke system had displayed:
I want to be your personal penguin
I want to walk right by your side
I want to be your personal penguin
I want to travel with you far and wide
Wherever you go, I’ll go there too
Here and there and everywhere and always with you
I want to be your personal penguin
from now on...
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
Giving it a dubious look, Mag reached out and plucked the paper out of the thin air that, for just a moment as he tugged on it, seemed to have quite a firm grip. Lifting it to one of the small lamps on the table where the equipment for the karaoke night rested, he saw that it was, in fact, a short note in an exquisitely precise handwriting. His eyebrows shot up into his hair when he saw the signature. and he read the entire note. Twice.
Then he looked down at where nothing apparently stood to his left. "You're serious?"
There was a firm, but not painful, poke in his leg.
"You know, nobody's going to..."
The next poke was quick and closer to painful. Mag shut up. He took a deep breath. "Okay." Turning back to his mike as the audience burst into applause. he announced, "Thank you, Terrence! Okay people, keep your seats, we've got a special request and I need the stage clear for a moment." He busied himself cuing up the requested song -- it was a wonder he had it, obscure as it was -- while watching the stage with one eye.
"Just a moment, folks," he temporized, "Gotta let our performer get up there, he's not the quickest of... Ah, and I think he's ready," Mag concluded as he saw what he had been waiting for -- the wireless microphone the others had been using suddenly picked itself up off the stool on which Terrence Knight had left it. It swung about in what Mag belatedly realized was a flourish, and with an embarrassed cough he started the track.
A rambling piano intro, not too much unlike "Heart and Soul", wandered out of the speakers and led the listeners on for a bit before settling into a catchy little tune not quite jazz and not quite ragtime but somewhere between them and heading towards Broadway musical in style.
On stage, the microphone bobbed to the beat.
Katy nudged Mag. "What's with the instrumental interlude and the bouncing mike?"
Mag chuckled. "It's not an instrumental. You just can't hear the singer."
She studied him with head tilted and brows furrowed. "I can't.. what?"
Silently he handed her the note. When she looked up with wide eyes, he gestured with his chin at Evangelia and Space Mage, who seemed to be caught somewhere between giggles and squeeing. Katy blinked. "I thought it was a gag."
Mag smiled, a bit too smugly for someone who had half-shared the same opinion up until a few minutes earlier. "Nope." The music ended and the two teenaged heroines rushed the stage, gathering up ... something invisible in their arms. Mag laughed out loud at the sight, and at the lyrics the karaoke system had displayed:
I want to be your personal penguin
I want to walk right by your side
I want to be your personal penguin
I want to travel with you far and wide
Wherever you go, I’ll go there too
Here and there and everywhere and always with you
I want to be your personal penguin
from now on...
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.