Dropping the Mic
“Sonny and Cher,” she said. “They didn’t survive it.”
“Johnny Cash and June Carter,” he countered.
His wife rolled her eyes. “Nicki Minaj and Meek Hill. Miranda Lambert and Blake Shelton. I can go on all night. I’ll win every time.”
“No matter,” Frain said. “I’m joining the act. In the end, I’ll probably carry you.”
“You can’t even carry a note. In the end you’ll probably kill us.”
“A little over the top,” Frain said, dismissing his wife. “Get used to it. I signed the papers yesterday.” Then he dropped the mic: “We open in Vegas tomorrow, baby! Now excuse me, this superstar is gonna hit the whirlpool in our suite.”
She waited five minutes. Plugged in the amp. Then she dropped the mic. Into the whirlpool. The splashing saved her the effort of having to stage the scene.
Feels good to be solo again, she thought, before calling the front desk to order room service and report an accident.
So, I was never happy with my M entry in the A to Z Blogging Challenge and I needed closure. Sue me. Just don’t kill me. That’s so over-done. Finally, I’m finished with April and can move my life forward. Thanks for putting up with me.