I need to borrow a Bluesman.

R
R
Nov 3 · 3 min read

Jim — good to hear you! How’s the wife and kids — oh, divorce. Oh, man. That’s a bummer. Well, uh, I’ll cut to the chase then. I need to borrow one of your old people — you still run that retirement home your dad started, right?

Look — look, hold up, it’s not like that. Just, like, slow down, ok. I can explain. First, man, come on. It’s me, T-Bone, I’m your college roommate for Christ’s sake. You know me. You trust me, too. Remember when it was — what, only 11 years ago? I didn’t complain after you got slammed at your 21st and threw up all over the room. That’s the kind of guy I am: calm, chill, low maintenance. You know me. I wouldn’t make this request unless I needed to. I really need you to help me out here because, again, I have a good reason —

Yes, actually, there can be a good reason to ask for this. There is, actually. I promise. Yes, I understand —

Fine. Look, Jim, I’ll be honest: I owe some very bad people a very bad amount of money. To get out of it, I promised those people that I would put on a concert: I also told them that this concert would feature a bluesman. Now, Jim, you might be saying to yourself: “Timmy, why would you have promised that? Bluesman is no longer a viable career. There are no more travelling delta blues singers”. Well, that’s fair. You’re right if you’re thinking that: it turns out there are no more itinerant bluesmen. No jazzmen or soulmen either. None: zero.

Jim — no, Jim, please. Don’t hang up. I need you to understand this: I owe these men a lot of money.

They are very bad people, Jim. They’re going to hurt me.

I just need to borrow one — only one — of the old men you have for one night. I’ll put him in this jazz lounge, dress him up in a suit. I’ll get a band myself —well, I already have a band, actually. I just need a bluesman — please, Jim. You are the only person who can provide me a man old enough to pass as a former traveling singer. It’s literally just you, Jim. I owe them a lot of money, but they’ll give me more time if this concert comes together. Otherwise you, bud, if this falls through, won’t hear from me again — you don’t want to do that to your old pal T-bone, right, Jim?

No — friend, no, no, don’t say that.

Well, no, it is not an unreasonable request — no, the whole thing is actually pretty easy. And reasonable. I have plane tickets from near you, in Fresno, for me and one man to fly to and from Atlantic City. Yes, well — yeah, look, it is in New Jersey, sure.I mean, you’re right, but it’s a quick flight. It really is. Plus I’ll have him back in 14 hours, tops. Probably 13, honestly. He just needs to mumble some shit in a microphone — I have some songs he can read off a notepad into the mic all set and ready.

Jim, please: stop that. Don’t act like I’m asking for something big here . Seriously, ok? I’m your oldest friend — don’t hang up, wait —

Jim?

Jim?

Hello?

Well, fuck.

R

Written by

R

Pastor, Former Award-winning Psychoanalyst, Founding Member of Slayer. Indicted three times; acquitted three times. Go Blue!