Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five
She'd been minding her business one day, completely content with the sun and the sky. But then she just had to walk into the Bauble Ballroom. A place where jazz and smoke and laughing and spirits took over at this hour. She just didn't know what was good for her. When she'd found herself a place to sit, there was a man on stage who'd apparently had a bit too much to drink. She didn't realize or recognize who this person was until a gaggle of Arabic men who were also red nosed and slurring, bumbled up onto the stage to back the man.
Dorothy gave her order and got comfortable when piano and snare drums came into earshot. Then saxophone and trumpet. Quietly at first, then loudly. She sighed, then saw the young man on stage, platinum blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a swarm of older men with mustaches and sunglasses...and fezzes? What in the world? She thought to herself. Then from her seat in the back she remembered who that could be.
Quatre! Oh, God help me! She lifted her menu up to cover her face.
It was to late. He'd seen her as soon as she'd come in. Now fate would have it this way and she couldn't escape even if there were a fire from one of the table candles. And so he began, his usually muted and gentlemanly voice now shrill and loud with whisky running through his veins.
Walking with my baby she got great big feet
She's long lean and lanky and aint had nothing to eat
But she's my baby and I love her just the same
Crazy bout that woman cause Caldonia is her name
Oh no! Dorothy wailed. What is he doing?! No!
Caldonia!
Caldonia!
What makes your big head so hard?
My!
The people around her started to look from her to Quatre up on stage being backed by the Maguanacs behind him. Dorothy tried to hide, but it was no use.
All the while she was mumbling, My name is Catalonia, not Caldonia, Catalonia!
I love you
Love you just the same
I'll always love you baby cause Caldonia is your name
What? Caldonia? What is he trying to do?
someone leaned back in their chair to ask her, do you two know each other?
Dorothy gagged. At one time, yes, but not anymore!
This sent the tipsy patrons around her into laughter, while Quatre screeched onward, now tripping off of the stage and onto the floor. Still singing, now on his way towards Dorothy's table. The waitress brought her drink, a Shirley Temple tinged with vodka, and patted Dorothy's shoulder. Dorothy swigged the drink, knocking it back with sheer energy enough to power a mobile suit. And Quatre still approached.
You know my momma told me to leave Caldonia lone
That's what she told me, no kiddin'
That's what she said, she said, Son, keep away from that woman, she aint no good, don't bother with her.
But momma didn't know what Caldonia was puttin' down
So I'm goin' down to Caldonia's house
And ask her just one more time
Dorothy covered her head, No! This is not happening to me!
A woman sitting not too far away slapped her husband's shoulder and hissed. I wish you'd do something like that for me!
Caldonia!
Caldonia!
What makes your big head so hard?
My!
And so the song ended after a small solo. And Quatre was down on one knee right in front of Dorothy. She glowered at him angrily. The Maguanacs on stage took the spotlight and also gave Dorothy the half hearted privacy to tell Quatre off.
She seethed. What are you doing?
Dorothy eyed him as he took a seat. What have you been drinking?
Gin and tonic, brandy, whiskey, rum, margaritas...
She covered her face with her hands, Why did I even come in here?
I don't know, why did you come in here?
To relax, and you end up completely humiliating me, Quatre!
He asked, totally vexed. What do you mean?
You were singing, dumb ass, Dorothy pointed her finger at him, about
He shrugged, not catching the point being made. So, what's wrong with that.
You...I...you mean...you...
Then he opened his mouth wide and nodded. Oh! Oh! I get it now! You thought that I was singing that song to you! Because it sounds like Cata...Catalon-lon-lon-ia. He paused. That's you.
Her eyes went wide. You came to my table, though.
Because I saw you and wanted to talk for a minute! Old pal!
She glanced around the room. Quatre, why are you doing this?
It's a free country. One can sing about big feet and such if he wishes to do so, Quatre slurred.
Resting on her elbows, she asked him, Were you or were you not singing that to me, Quatre Raberba Winner?
Well, Dorothy Cata-Cata-Cataloinia, he hiccuped, I was singing that song to you.
Nodding, she sighed. So you're saying that I have big feet?
And are long, lean and lanky, and aint had nothing to eat, he suggested.
Dorothy stood up and waved over a waitress. When she arrived, Dorothy cleared her throat. Excuse me miss, could you call a cab for this man and his party?
Yes ma'am.
The waitress went off, while Dorothy grabbed her purse and gazed down at Quatre. You were right about me not having anything to eat. You can take me out to dinner when you're sober, okay? Can you remember that? I'll write you a note.
So she did, right on a Post-It Note and pasted it on his forehead. Quatre laughed, and she helped him up. All the Maguanacs followed suit and they all headed out to clamor into the cab that had been called for them. Dorothy made sure that they all got situated, then took one last sympathetic look at Quatre before they shot off into the distance to sleep off their drinks. Slowly it began to rain, and Dorothy left the club after leaving her pay with the waitress that had called the cab.
I guess this is what happens when you don't stay in touch with people, she muttered, walking through the rain not caring at all. Maybe he'll be decent enough to listen to music instead of trying to make it next time.
The End!
Casey Lou (kalobuko)
Did you enjoy this old music? It's a lot better when you listen to it. Absolutely hilarious! I thought that if I noticed that then I supposed that a drunk Quatre would too. Caldonia, Catalonia...heh heh. I thought it was funny. And I hadn't written a QWxDC story, or actually finished one at least. Now I have, so I hope you liked it.