Been a crazy couple of days. So rather than get into that, here’s a piece of flash-mostly-fiction.

The Earworm

He groaned. “I can’t get it out.”

She frowned. “Get what out?”

“The earworm. Been in my head for the last three days.”

“It’ll go away eventually. They all do.”

“Tell that to the earworm.”

She considered. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “If I tell you that, you might catch it.”

“Doesn’t work that way. Besides, you know our tastes are different. Now, say, if you were to tell me the earworm involved early T-Rex or Rod Stewart, I might worry. Otherwise? No.”

“No T-Rex. No Rod.  It’s Al Stewart.”

She looked thoughtful. “Well, there’s some overlap there. It’s not ‘The Eyes of Nostradamus’ is it?”

“No. It’s ‘The Roads to Moscow.’”

She looked at him. “You’re kidding. Besides being ancient, that thing is eight minutes long! You’re telling me you’ve got an earworm that lasts eight consecutive minutes at a time?”

“No, and that’s the whole problem.”

“Once again, in English this time?”

“Think about it. An eight-minute song with complex and often subtle lyrics. I can’t get it straight!”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re telling me you’ve got an earworm that never gets finished because you can’t remember the lyrics?”

“In a nutshell, yes. It should take eight minutes, but I keep misremembering the lyrics so I can’t get through the whole thing. And I have to get through the whole thing or it doesn’t count!  I keep making corrections, starting over, messing up, starting again. It never ends!”

“Doesn’t count? With whom?”

“With me. You know I’ve got a touch of OCD.”

“More than a touch, I’d say. In my less charitable moments, I’d even say you were the one who was touched. In the head.”

“Not helping.”

“You didn’t ask for help. Are you?”

He sighed. “Yes. Take pity on me.”

“Fine. Go online and do either one or both of the following: Memorize the lyrics properly or just listen to the song over and over until either you can’t get it wrong, or your brain rebels, crawls out your nose, and strangles you.”

“I knew there was a reason I married you. But why did you marry me?”

She shrugged. “Pity…and it’s nice to be needed.”

©2021 Richard Parks