Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 71
Neil scratched his now all too visible bald head. “Well, folks… let’s crank this haunted toaster to eleven.”
He broke into an impromptu punk-bluegrass hybrid that involved three spoons, two walkers, and one surprisingly limber nurse.
Edna grumbled, but her cane tapped along involuntarily.
By the end of the show, she’d joined the encore; singing backup, still heckling mid-chorus. The concert was legendary, and Neil Young left the stage with one tambourine, three new lyrics stolen from Edna, and absolutely no idea how he got there in the first place.
In retrospect, Neil Young, seasoned whine and immigrant troubadour of the tangled acoustic truth, has two choices when facing the geriatric heckle storm at Golden Echoes; and neither involved dignity.
Option 1: Sassy Sage Comeback Tour Neil taps the mic. “Edna, I’ve faced record execs, rabid fans, and stage crashing raccoons. You think I’m scared of a lady in orthopedic slippers and a vendetta?”
Crowd: Ooooooohhhhhh!
Then he strums a note. “Next one's called ‘Don’t Heckle Me, I know Johnny Rotten.’”