I’ve got a regular job, you know?

I can’t remember if I have any 9-volt batteries. I gotta stop borrowing batteries. Stevie is always fishing around in his bag du gig and taking out battered batteries and touching the two terminals to his tongue to see if there’s any charge left in them. If there is, he gives them to me, and they quit in the second set. I swear nothing is ever open on the way to a job, and nothing on the way home, either.

I keep breaking E strings. They tell me it’s not possible, they’re as big around as a pencil, but here we are. If I played the guitar, I could just buy E strings, but they only sell bass strings in whole sets. I’ve got three A strings on the goddamn thing now. One flaps and one is as tight as a suspension bridge to stand in for a D string. Then again, if I played guitar, I’d never work, because everybody plays guitar.

I can never remember what key anything is in. I can play anything in any key but you have to tell me every time what the hell key it’s in. The other guys memorize everything by rote, and god help you if need to sing it in a lower key. They always want me to play funk songs, and sing them, too. You try playing syncopated lines and singing.

Jaysus, wedding gigs. I remember the time they asked for Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady, and the bride weighed 250 pounds, easy. We’re all looking at each other like deer in the headlights and wondering if she’s in on the joke or not. We’re all turned into Roman Centurion extras in Life of Brian, trying not to crack a smile.

Why do they call it blue-eyed soul? All the bands are Italian. Haven’t they ever met an Italian? No, we’re not going to play Freebird no matter how many time you ask.

You can get into trouble half-way through on any given night, but you know you’re in trouble right off when a woman in blue hair comes up to the stage while you’re still plugging in the monitors and asks, “What time does the orchestra start?”

Jaysus. Chicken and shells again.