The hour of the big show was nigh, and most everyone showed up.
Especially the important people, like the president of the United States,
the president of the UN, and the president of the chess club. Of course,
Joe was nervous, but his chat with Satchmo had given him a little more
confidence than usual.
As the clamor of the varied guests was ensuing, the lights suddenly got dim. King Oliver took his stand in the director's podium, with his director's stick, and slowly, he counted off the beginning rhythm.
"Uno...
"Dos...
"One, two, tres, cuatro!"
BANG!!! The communists attacked!
Actually, they didn't. It was just a very, very, very, very, very upbeat song, and Joe had the pleasure of playing the opening solo. The confused look on Oliver's face reflected the fact that Louis Armstrong was supposed to be playing that solo. Even so, Joe played quite the whopper of a tune, and it was quite the treat for the audience.
"Hey, Jim."
"Yeah, Bob?"
"Isn't that the guy that ruined my eardrums the other night?"
"I believe so, Bob."
"I wasn't gonna come."
"Me neither."
"But my girlfriend, Elita, wanted to come for a date. I'm glad she asked. Otherwise I'd have missed this performance. What's the word? Saxophono Supremo...?"
"Isn't it Estupido Ganzo?"
"No, I think it's Saxophono Supremo."
"Either way. Hey, where is your girlfriend any way?"
"Come to think of it, I haven't the slightest."
"Haven't the slightest what? Clue?"
"No... care."
Sam and the rest of the barroom gang were attending the concert as well. They took a seat near the front row, where they could get a good view of the band.
Sam, who was sitting in the back-most seat, was busy criticizing the make and wear of the big-name jazz club, as opposed to his back-alley speakeasy, as a beautiful woman, about Sam's age, walked up and said in a thick Spanish accent, "Have you seen my boy freynd, SeƱor?"
Sam turned around and was about to comment further on Sweeney's horrible use of color when a sudden wave of recognition came upon him.
"Elita Franchita Gordita?"
"In de flesh." Suddenly, Elita doubled back: "Sahm?"
"Elita?"
"Sam?"
"Elita!"
"Sam!"
(For Sam, the happy ending had come about three pages too soon.)
"Aaaah, Elita."
"Mmmmm, Sam."
Sam wasn't the only one having a good time. Georgia and Jizzo, who were sitting in the front, had never known that Joe was such a key player in the jazzy orchestra. They enjoyed every minute of his playing, and started wishing that they had taken up saxophone in middle school.
On the stage, Joe was also having a blast. He had never played so much at one time in his whole life . Actually, he had, but this time was different, because he was the star for a change, and more than one important person was watching. Solo after solo, he continued to knock 'em dead, blow their socks off, and basically stun the crowd with his wonderful sound.
* * *
"Three cheers for you, Mr. Robinson."
It was a day like most others at the Shoebox Speakeasy, except for one difference: today everyone was actually happy about everything going on.
Everyone was hunched around the bar, Georgia, Joe, Sam, and Elita, laughing and chatting with each other. "You really were good on that saxophone, Joe," said Georgia, as things were calming down.
Elita nodded her head shyly in agreement.
Joe turned red in the face and looked down sheepishly at his feet.
"Yeah, I know," added Sam. "I always knew you had it in you. Hey, maybe sometime you could come over and play at my bar instead of at the dumb Sweeney's. I pay well..."
"I don't know..." answered Joe.
"I also give out free drinks," Sam persisted, after an awkward sort of silence.
Joe thought a while longer, then replied, "I'll think about it."
"Anyways," Georgia continued, "How do you get that good sound out of your instrument? I mean, I've never heard you playing like that before."
"Let's just say I was inspired."
"Ooo, my boyfriend's getting mysterious."
"Hey," interrupted Sam, "I just realized that that Louis Armstrong guy didn't play as much as usual today. He must've been feelin' sick."
"That's possible," replied Joe. He wasn't sure he liked all the attention he was getting, so he decided to change the subject. "Hey! Whatever happened to that Jacky Bartholomew fellow that was always hanging out here?"
"You never heard?" Sam exclaimed. "The police finally recognized that the guy was a nut, so they took him to the in-sanitarium."
"Don't you mean asylum?" the ever-smart Georgia butted in.
"Whatever. Anyhow, I kinda miss the guy."
"Yeah," said Joe, "it is a lot quieter now, I have to admit. But anyway, it's probably the best for him, after all."
"I will miss the poor guy, even if he was annoying... after all, where else am I gonna use these anesthetic beers?"
The small crowd at the bar chuckled at the small joke. As the laghter was dying down, a couple of shady-looking characters walked in, breathless, as if they had been exersizing.
"Haven't I seen you two guys at Sweeney's place?" Joe inquired of the people.
"Yeah," said the first one. "I'm Jim, and this short fat guy is my buddy, Bob."
The fellow named Bob continued, "We were at Sweeney's place just now, actually, but a couple of cops showed up and closed the place down."
"Why's that?" Joe persisted.
Jim picked up, "They said something about illegal sale of alcohol during prohibition. Anyway, we left as inconspicuously as we could to find some other place that sold beer."
"Well, you've found it," Sam said dryly, "and thanks for the warning. Have some on the house."
Aside from all the clamour that was ensuing, Georgia found Joe and asked, "But Joe, now that Sweeney's place is closed down, aren't you out of a job?"
To which Joe replied, "Didn't I already tell you? I must've forgot. I quit the band."
"Quit?"
"The only place you can go from the top is down."
"Is that your only reason?"
"Well," said Joe, slyly, "I figured Oliver's band might keep us from starting our family." He took out a beautiful diamond ring. "Georgia, will you marry me?"
Georgia was so excited all she could do was scream.
"Gee, people get really emotional around here," Jim commented to Bob.
"I know," said Bob. "It'll be a nice change from that other place."
Meanwhile, in all his excitement, Joe stood on a chair and shouted, "Beers all around, on me!"
"How do ya like that?" said Jim. "Two free beers in a day. I might like this place after all."
Much later that night, Joe was helping Sam clean his Shoebox up.
"Well Joe," Sam stated, "it looks like you finally got that happy ending you've been waiting for."
"Whatever you say, Sam."
As the clamor of the varied guests was ensuing, the lights suddenly got dim. King Oliver took his stand in the director's podium, with his director's stick, and slowly, he counted off the beginning rhythm.
"Uno...
"Dos...
"One, two, tres, cuatro!"
BANG!!! The communists attacked!
Actually, they didn't. It was just a very, very, very, very, very upbeat song, and Joe had the pleasure of playing the opening solo. The confused look on Oliver's face reflected the fact that Louis Armstrong was supposed to be playing that solo. Even so, Joe played quite the whopper of a tune, and it was quite the treat for the audience.
"Hey, Jim."
"Yeah, Bob?"
"Isn't that the guy that ruined my eardrums the other night?"
"I believe so, Bob."
"I wasn't gonna come."
"Me neither."
"But my girlfriend, Elita, wanted to come for a date. I'm glad she asked. Otherwise I'd have missed this performance. What's the word? Saxophono Supremo...?"
"Isn't it Estupido Ganzo?"
"No, I think it's Saxophono Supremo."
"Either way. Hey, where is your girlfriend any way?"
"Come to think of it, I haven't the slightest."
"Haven't the slightest what? Clue?"
"No... care."
Sam and the rest of the barroom gang were attending the concert as well. They took a seat near the front row, where they could get a good view of the band.
Sam, who was sitting in the back-most seat, was busy criticizing the make and wear of the big-name jazz club, as opposed to his back-alley speakeasy, as a beautiful woman, about Sam's age, walked up and said in a thick Spanish accent, "Have you seen my boy freynd, SeƱor?"
Sam turned around and was about to comment further on Sweeney's horrible use of color when a sudden wave of recognition came upon him.
"Elita Franchita Gordita?"
"In de flesh." Suddenly, Elita doubled back: "Sahm?"
"Elita?"
"Sam?"
"Elita!"
"Sam!"
(For Sam, the happy ending had come about three pages too soon.)
"Aaaah, Elita."
"Mmmmm, Sam."
Sam wasn't the only one having a good time. Georgia and Jizzo, who were sitting in the front, had never known that Joe was such a key player in the jazzy orchestra. They enjoyed every minute of his playing, and started wishing that they had taken up saxophone in middle school.
On the stage, Joe was also having a blast. He had never played so much at one time in his whole life . Actually, he had, but this time was different, because he was the star for a change, and more than one important person was watching. Solo after solo, he continued to knock 'em dead, blow their socks off, and basically stun the crowd with his wonderful sound.
* * *
"Three cheers for you, Mr. Robinson."
It was a day like most others at the Shoebox Speakeasy, except for one difference: today everyone was actually happy about everything going on.
Everyone was hunched around the bar, Georgia, Joe, Sam, and Elita, laughing and chatting with each other. "You really were good on that saxophone, Joe," said Georgia, as things were calming down.
Elita nodded her head shyly in agreement.
Joe turned red in the face and looked down sheepishly at his feet.
"Yeah, I know," added Sam. "I always knew you had it in you. Hey, maybe sometime you could come over and play at my bar instead of at the dumb Sweeney's. I pay well..."
"I don't know..." answered Joe.
"I also give out free drinks," Sam persisted, after an awkward sort of silence.
Joe thought a while longer, then replied, "I'll think about it."
"Anyways," Georgia continued, "How do you get that good sound out of your instrument? I mean, I've never heard you playing like that before."
"Let's just say I was inspired."
"Ooo, my boyfriend's getting mysterious."
"Hey," interrupted Sam, "I just realized that that Louis Armstrong guy didn't play as much as usual today. He must've been feelin' sick."
"That's possible," replied Joe. He wasn't sure he liked all the attention he was getting, so he decided to change the subject. "Hey! Whatever happened to that Jacky Bartholomew fellow that was always hanging out here?"
"You never heard?" Sam exclaimed. "The police finally recognized that the guy was a nut, so they took him to the in-sanitarium."
"Don't you mean asylum?" the ever-smart Georgia butted in.
"Whatever. Anyhow, I kinda miss the guy."
"Yeah," said Joe, "it is a lot quieter now, I have to admit. But anyway, it's probably the best for him, after all."
"I will miss the poor guy, even if he was annoying... after all, where else am I gonna use these anesthetic beers?"
The small crowd at the bar chuckled at the small joke. As the laghter was dying down, a couple of shady-looking characters walked in, breathless, as if they had been exersizing.
"Haven't I seen you two guys at Sweeney's place?" Joe inquired of the people.
"Yeah," said the first one. "I'm Jim, and this short fat guy is my buddy, Bob."
The fellow named Bob continued, "We were at Sweeney's place just now, actually, but a couple of cops showed up and closed the place down."
"Why's that?" Joe persisted.
Jim picked up, "They said something about illegal sale of alcohol during prohibition. Anyway, we left as inconspicuously as we could to find some other place that sold beer."
"Well, you've found it," Sam said dryly, "and thanks for the warning. Have some on the house."
Aside from all the clamour that was ensuing, Georgia found Joe and asked, "But Joe, now that Sweeney's place is closed down, aren't you out of a job?"
To which Joe replied, "Didn't I already tell you? I must've forgot. I quit the band."
"Quit?"
"The only place you can go from the top is down."
"Is that your only reason?"
"Well," said Joe, slyly, "I figured Oliver's band might keep us from starting our family." He took out a beautiful diamond ring. "Georgia, will you marry me?"
Georgia was so excited all she could do was scream.
"Gee, people get really emotional around here," Jim commented to Bob.
"I know," said Bob. "It'll be a nice change from that other place."
Meanwhile, in all his excitement, Joe stood on a chair and shouted, "Beers all around, on me!"
"How do ya like that?" said Jim. "Two free beers in a day. I might like this place after all."
Much later that night, Joe was helping Sam clean his Shoebox up.
"Well Joe," Sam stated, "it looks like you finally got that happy ending you've been waiting for."
"Whatever you say, Sam."
