Battle For The Author’s Soul

Last night the Beatles and the Beach Boys battled for my eternal soul.

I was sped away in a little duce coupe, but then a giant walrus in the road took me back to the USSR until, finally, David Lee Roth appeared with his California girls, and that was that.

The chords of music were strewn about my little bitty room like corpses, beats and rhythms looked up at bedside nurses with pleading eyes.

And, in the midst of it all, a gentleman in coattails with slick black hair walked up, shook my hand, and said, “pleased to meet you, hope you’ve guessed my name…”

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