A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar. Stinking
of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player
Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender.
"I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was an F-4 driver, flying
MIG CAP back in ' Nam , but when they retired the Phantom all the
thrill was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to play
the piano at O-Club happy hours, so here I am."
The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it
had been quite a while since he had a piano player, and business was
falling off. So, why not give him a try.
The seedy pilot staggered his way over to the piano while several
patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music,
every voice was silenced.
What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike anything heard in
the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place.
The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the name
of the song he had just played.
It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls to the Wall for
You" he said. After a long pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he
said "I wrote it myself."
The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player
just went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that
had the place jumping. After he finished, the fighter pilot
acknowledged the applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the
crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light.
He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone in the room
was enthralled. He announced that it was the latest rendition of his
song, "Spread 'em Baby, It's Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The
Centerline", excused himself and headed for the john.
When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Hey fly boy,
the job is yours, but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is
hanging out?
"Know it?" the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell, I wrote it.
of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player
Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender.
"I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was an F-4 driver, flying
MIG CAP back in ' Nam , but when they retired the Phantom all the
thrill was gone, and soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to play
the piano at O-Club happy hours, so here I am."
The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it
had been quite a while since he had a piano player, and business was
falling off. So, why not give him a try.
The seedy pilot staggered his way over to the piano while several
patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music,
every voice was silenced.
What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike anything heard in
the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place.
The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the name
of the song he had just played.
It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls to the Wall for
You" he said. After a long pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he
said "I wrote it myself."
The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player
just went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that
had the place jumping. After he finished, the fighter pilot
acknowledged the applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the
crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light.
He then launched into another mesmerizing song and everyone in the room
was enthralled. He announced that it was the latest rendition of his
song, "Spread 'em Baby, It's Foggy Out Tonight and I Need To See The
Centerline", excused himself and headed for the john.
When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Hey fly boy,
the job is yours, but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is
hanging out?
"Know it?" the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell, I wrote it.
