The Theory of Games by Ezra Sidran

Author:Ezra Sidran [Sidran, Ezra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-04-04T22:00:00+00:00

And then he heard a clear sound - a voice that was not on the battle net crackling through his headset - it came from outside and it said, “It crashed. We have a crash. Reset.”

And then everything went black very quickly.

CHAPTER 4.1

It was Saturday night at Big Poppa’s and, if possible, it was even more over the legal capacity than the last time we played there. The gig had started at nine and for the last three hours I had been blessedly transported away from the events of the last two weeks. My world had been reduced to eighty-eight black and white keys and that was just fine by me.

Maybe because of Nick’s funeral a week ago or maybe for some other reason deep inside, John the Howler started off the last set of the evening with a monologue.

“When I was a child growing up in the hill country of Mississippi I was raised by my Granmaw,” he began. “She was a church-going woman. But the man she was married to, my step-Granpaw, was a bluesman.” I don’t know why but the half-drunk crowd was respectful and listened up.

“My church-going Granmaw taught me that the Blues came from the sanctified church,” John continued. “Granpaw taught me the Blues. Granmaw taught me Gospel. Gospel is the theory, the spirit, the soul of the Blues.”

John spun around and addressed the All Mojo All Stars, “You ready to take them to church?”

“Yeah!” we yelled back.

John spun back around to the crowd, “You ready to go to church?”

“Yeah!” the crowd yelled back.

“Let’s take ‘em to church.” Clyde the Foot, quick-counted a 2/4 and we launched into ‘Wings’ with that wonderful line, “You can’t drive a Cadillac to Heaven.”

It was a sublime set. We segued from Wings into Goin’ Down, did a couple of Delta inspired originals and ended up with Boom, Boom, Boom. I opened my eyes after the last chord, blinking to adjust to the stage lights, and I saw Katelynn entering the bar from way in the back. She had another fucking FedEx envelope with her.

This time Kate didn’t wave and holler for Billy Joel. She just squeezed her way through the crowd to the side of the stage and waited for me.

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