HONKY: Roy who? RO: Roy Orbison. HONKY: Oh. Hello. RO: Yup. HONKY: So, uh, what's up? RO: Oh, you know. Bein' dead an' shitz.
Great. This is the point in the day where I start to get cranky. Happens almost every day. Probably because I've just finished lunch and there's a shift in blood sugar and the coffee's wearing off. Something like that.
And now Roy Orbison is in my head. HONKY: Yeah, I'm kinda cranky too. RO: I can tell. Your frontal lobes are tweaking out.
I've become something of a morning person lately. I like the morning. I come in. Everyone says "hi". I check my email. "Oh! So and so emailed! Nice to hear from them!" I have my coffee. Maybe a banana with peanut butter. I settle in. "Hi Honky. How was your night?" It's nice.
Then afternoon hits, and if shit is going to hit a fan, shit hits in the afternoon. That's when the phone starts to ring. Emails go from being nice ones from friends to "I need you to do this..." Someone always clogs up the toilet. Dead rocks stars invade my body.
RO: Hey, Honky. Who's a pirate's favorite Traveling Wilbury? HONKY: The fucking Fonz. RO: No, silly. It's Roy AARRHHHbison!
And he's self-referential. Rock.
HONKY: Play me a song, Roy. RO: I can't. I don't have any hands.
