The Song
This was a story that I thought of when driving and told the idea to Ted who thought it was pretty funny. There've been lots of variations to this theme, but then again, there's been lots of variations on boy meets girl. Anyways, total writing time was 45 minutes, but that involved answering a few calls. Work is a rough place to write at. As a note, I did no editing to this story at all, it's pre-first draft, it's actually straight from brain to paper. Well, enough intro.
The Song
It was Day 32 in Darryl's personal hell. At first, it started slowly, just a silly song played on the pop stations. Then it moved to commercials. After that, no fewer than two people on every bus, subway car or street would be singing along to the song while wearing headphones. The song would not leave him alone, its mindless tune slithering into his brain like a worm. Worst, for some reason the song was dedicated to a mysterious "Darryl R." and everyone who knew him asked if the song was dedicated to him, then insisted on singing the tune to him, incase he had magically forgotten how it went. Today was no different than yesterday, and sure to be the same as tomorrow.
Day 33 started the same, with the muffled sounds of The Song bleeding its way through his thin apartment walls. Darryl looked into the mirror above his sink, his bloodshot eyes glaring back at him. He could hear the muffled mirth of the radio DJ after the song ended, "Oh Darryl R., whoever you are, you are a lucky guy to have this song dedicated to you. Lets hear it again," and it began again, its piercing tune attacking through cement and wood and plaster.
"It's funny, huh? There's probably a thousand Darryl R.'s out there getting the same treatment, eh?" Darryl didn't find it funny at all, though at least his coworkers believed that it wasn't him that it was dedicated to. At least they didn't try to sing it to him, only softly hum it to themselves. At least only during lunch did the microwave pick up the signals from the nearby radio tower and cheerfully play the music while cooking.
The train ride home was worse than usual, as four separate people were singing the tune along with their headphones, each at a different part in the song and each horribly out of tune, adding more spikes to the already sharp tune. By the time he was home, in his bathroom, bloodshot eyes glaring back from his mirror, Darryl could hardly pry his mouth open from his clenched anger. He did finally mange to part his lips enough to let pills tumble into his mouth. Sometime after swallowing the entire container of pills and finally falling asleep, Darryl pulled himself up to look into the mirror on last time. He tried a few halfhearted attempts at wiping the mirror as it was rippling, before he realized it was the tears in his own eyes causing it to move.
"God, I don't want to die." Somewhere between sobbing and stumbling, Darryl fell to the floor. Blood joined his tears in his eyes, though the pills took away any pain he might have felt. "I can't take it, though. The song, I mean. Can't you just make me deaf? Just take me somewhere that isn't here." Darryl tried to continue talking, but the pills took control of his lips and tongue till only slurring sounds came from him, and soon those stopped too and everything was silent in his bathroom, except for the soft sound of the song passing through the walls.
For a long time, Darryl lay on his floor, trying to grasp what exactly was wrong. He understood why he could barely move, the pills. He also figured that he'd not taken enough for the intended effect, so that wasn't necessarily wrong. Long hours passed until Darryl could actually move around and slowly pick himself up off the floor. Blood filled his sing as he washed his face, though he felt better than he had in a long time.
Looking around, everything seemed newer to him, though it may have just been from his near death experience. He could hear muffled talk through his walls, the local news cast. He idly wondered what could possibly be going on that caused the neighbors to turn off the song. The Song. Suddenly Darryl realized that he couldn't hear the song bleeding through any of his walls. In fact, he couldn't hear it at all aside from behind the buzzing in his ears from hitting his head. Quickly dressing, he walked out of his building into his old world before the song.
It was dark out, though the large clock outside the police station across the street said it was only 11pm. Certainly early enough to get a few drinks to celebrate. As he walked, Darryl was greeted with old songs that he knew, familiar and comforting. Ducking into one of the local dives, Darryl happily sat up at the bar and ordered a round for the 3 people sitting next to him and himself. "I'm celebrating," he said, so they drank with him, celebrating too.
As 11pm turned to 1am, Darryl found himself with new companions and less ability to stand. He put his head down and hummed happily to himself, knowing that his days were finally back to how they were. He felt a tapping on his shoulder and looked over, his eyes not really focusing on who it was.
"Hey buddy, what's your name?"
"Darryl Randelman, though people keep calling me Darryl R." His speech was slurred, though clear enough.
"Well hey man, that tune you were singing was great. I'm going to lay down a few beats with it, see what I get, that cool?"
"Sure, sure. Hey, wait..."
"Don't worry, bud, I'll make sure to dedicate it to you when I hit it big." And with that, the man walked out of the bar, with Darryl in no condition to follow.
The Song
It was Day 32 in Darryl's personal hell. At first, it started slowly, just a silly song played on the pop stations. Then it moved to commercials. After that, no fewer than two people on every bus, subway car or street would be singing along to the song while wearing headphones. The song would not leave him alone, its mindless tune slithering into his brain like a worm. Worst, for some reason the song was dedicated to a mysterious "Darryl R." and everyone who knew him asked if the song was dedicated to him, then insisted on singing the tune to him, incase he had magically forgotten how it went. Today was no different than yesterday, and sure to be the same as tomorrow.
Day 33 started the same, with the muffled sounds of The Song bleeding its way through his thin apartment walls. Darryl looked into the mirror above his sink, his bloodshot eyes glaring back at him. He could hear the muffled mirth of the radio DJ after the song ended, "Oh Darryl R., whoever you are, you are a lucky guy to have this song dedicated to you. Lets hear it again," and it began again, its piercing tune attacking through cement and wood and plaster.
"It's funny, huh? There's probably a thousand Darryl R.'s out there getting the same treatment, eh?" Darryl didn't find it funny at all, though at least his coworkers believed that it wasn't him that it was dedicated to. At least they didn't try to sing it to him, only softly hum it to themselves. At least only during lunch did the microwave pick up the signals from the nearby radio tower and cheerfully play the music while cooking.
The train ride home was worse than usual, as four separate people were singing the tune along with their headphones, each at a different part in the song and each horribly out of tune, adding more spikes to the already sharp tune. By the time he was home, in his bathroom, bloodshot eyes glaring back from his mirror, Darryl could hardly pry his mouth open from his clenched anger. He did finally mange to part his lips enough to let pills tumble into his mouth. Sometime after swallowing the entire container of pills and finally falling asleep, Darryl pulled himself up to look into the mirror on last time. He tried a few halfhearted attempts at wiping the mirror as it was rippling, before he realized it was the tears in his own eyes causing it to move.
"God, I don't want to die." Somewhere between sobbing and stumbling, Darryl fell to the floor. Blood joined his tears in his eyes, though the pills took away any pain he might have felt. "I can't take it, though. The song, I mean. Can't you just make me deaf? Just take me somewhere that isn't here." Darryl tried to continue talking, but the pills took control of his lips and tongue till only slurring sounds came from him, and soon those stopped too and everything was silent in his bathroom, except for the soft sound of the song passing through the walls.
For a long time, Darryl lay on his floor, trying to grasp what exactly was wrong. He understood why he could barely move, the pills. He also figured that he'd not taken enough for the intended effect, so that wasn't necessarily wrong. Long hours passed until Darryl could actually move around and slowly pick himself up off the floor. Blood filled his sing as he washed his face, though he felt better than he had in a long time.
Looking around, everything seemed newer to him, though it may have just been from his near death experience. He could hear muffled talk through his walls, the local news cast. He idly wondered what could possibly be going on that caused the neighbors to turn off the song. The Song. Suddenly Darryl realized that he couldn't hear the song bleeding through any of his walls. In fact, he couldn't hear it at all aside from behind the buzzing in his ears from hitting his head. Quickly dressing, he walked out of his building into his old world before the song.
It was dark out, though the large clock outside the police station across the street said it was only 11pm. Certainly early enough to get a few drinks to celebrate. As he walked, Darryl was greeted with old songs that he knew, familiar and comforting. Ducking into one of the local dives, Darryl happily sat up at the bar and ordered a round for the 3 people sitting next to him and himself. "I'm celebrating," he said, so they drank with him, celebrating too.
As 11pm turned to 1am, Darryl found himself with new companions and less ability to stand. He put his head down and hummed happily to himself, knowing that his days were finally back to how they were. He felt a tapping on his shoulder and looked over, his eyes not really focusing on who it was.
"Hey buddy, what's your name?"
"Darryl Randelman, though people keep calling me Darryl R." His speech was slurred, though clear enough.
"Well hey man, that tune you were singing was great. I'm going to lay down a few beats with it, see what I get, that cool?"
"Sure, sure. Hey, wait..."
"Don't worry, bud, I'll make sure to dedicate it to you when I hit it big." And with that, the man walked out of the bar, with Darryl in no condition to follow.