It was karaoke night at the Blue Moon. He still loved to sing despite being eighty-seven. He was born to sing and even though his best days were behind him, he felt he was still pretty good.
He had retired a rich man when he was only forty-two. He remembered it well as it wasn’t long after the Queen’s silver jubilee.
On the day the announcement had been made, John Burrows walked away from his hectic life, boarded a plane bound for Argentina and was gone forever. He’d spent time travelling and just living a normal life away from all the big cities and bright lights.
He travelled through the US and spent a summer season working at the California Legoland.
On one notable occasion, he’d managed to get a job as an extra on the film, Home Alone. He was clearly visible on screen when the family were at the airport. Of course, he didn’t need the money, he was just having fun and trying new, everyday things.
He briefly worked in a supermarket but his favourite job was in a fish and chip shop. He’d worked there for free meals.
That had come to an abrupt end when that woman from England had recognised him. She literally made a complete song and dance about it. He recalled the first time he’d heard her record on the radio.
On his eighty-second birthday he went to Memphis again and paid a visit to Graceland. It was a wonderful house.
Now he was at the Blue Moon waiting to be called to the mic.
“Next up is John Burrows.”
There was a polite ripple of applause from the more civilised section of the small audience. There were also a few wolf whistles and disparaging remarks from a few lads who’d had too much to drink. John Burrows didn’t care he just wanted to sing and he wanted the whole world to hear him again.
The music began and the words flashed up on the screen. A little ball bobbed along the top of the lyrics in time with the music. He didn’t need the words, he just drew the microphone to his mouth, curled his top lip and sang an old, familiar song
The one about a hotel and heartbreak .
As he sang, the room fell silent – they all knew for certain, Elvis wasn’t dead, he’d just taken a break.
About the auhtor
Richard writes a lot of dark humour, occasionally contributing to CafeLit featuring in three anthologies. Richard writes poetry which might have Shakespeare turning in his grave. Growing older is not something he would recommend. Richard will feature in two autumn anthologies and will have a book published in 2023.
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