Bad Boy
- Jul 9, 2025
- 1 min read
Paul walks back in the back door, from his band break. He notices me sitting, waiting...
Angel: "I was hoping you'd play, "Bad Boy." It's my favorite." Everyone is gone. I think I'm the only one left there, sitting, waiting.
Paul: "We'll finish with it." He had gained new energy, at my words. "THAT's your favorite?" I feel his energy, his curiosity.
The band climbs back on stage. People start to drift back in. There's actually a lot of people still there. I wonder where they all were. As the room fills, Paul walks to the mic, guitar strapped on, vest open, tattoos fill both arms, his fingers, his chest. He has changed hats, now a low, black one has replaced his Cowboy hat with the fanged rattlesnake. The band starts. I hear the notes I now love.
Paul: "I'm a bad boy, a bad boy. I'm a bad boy, a bad boy. I'm a bad boy. Long, long way from home..."
Copyright 2025 Angel Isaacs All Rights Reserved
Written July 9, 2025 at 9:37 am
