Can’t Fight the Moonlight
The following story is true and fascinating. Well, it’s true anyway.
I’ve written about my useless psychic abilities before. I say, useless, but the more appropriate word may be, pointless.
These powers don’t make me any money. I still don’t have a tv show (yet). These powers don’t help me solve crime. I haven’t nabbed any murderers (yet). And these powers don’t entertain my friends. Yet I keep talking about them.
Over Father’s Day, last weekend, my family decided to make fresh salsa which meant a trip to the grocery store for fresh tomatillos and not so fresh music. Most people don’t go to the store for the freshest jams, unless they’re of the fruit variety, but last weekend my supermarket wasn’t just playing day–old hits. It was playing decade–old one–hit–wonder, “Can’t Fight the Moonlight.”
Now I, literally, can’t remember the last time I heard this song. So imagine my surprise when I started humming, then somehow singing the words to the song. Better yet, let me tell you. I was very surprised. The rhythm had got me.
When I turned to my sister she looked at me like I was a complete stranger. Mainly because the woman turned out, not to be my sister. She was just someone trying to buy tomatillos too.
In my embarrassment, I did what anyone else would have done. I smiled apologetically and shuffled off in a 2-4 time step. All the while my actual sister deftly avoided any acknowledgment of my existence or dancing prowess.
As I mentioned, this was Father’s Day weekend which meant meant my sisters and I were all back in our childhood home with our childhood memories. Or “our junk,” as our mother likes to say — a lot.
Rather than wait for next year, I decided to get a jump on Mother’s Day 2016. I grabbed the biggest box I could (easily) find and started cleaning.
In the old Nike shoe box I found a caché of ticket stubs. Again, imagine my surprise when one of the stubs was for the movie, Coyote Ugly. Better yet, let me tell you. I was really surprised. The rhythm had got me, that night.
Illustration by B. Mac’
© Chic Prune 2015