WONDERIN’
by Lance Manion
Songs are typically nothing more than a collection of metaphors that rhyme. Even the word ‘cover` has so many meanings that combined with a few convenient tropes, the listener can wrestle with any dilemma that they want with the full support of whatever version of whatever they happen to be listening to at the time. Throw in a few veiled references, sprinkle in words like ‘home’ and ‘save’ and you have the perfect soundtrack for a walk through the woods.
A man and a woman walked on a path under a canopy of trees. Small birds sang in full-throated fashion in the background.
They did not hold hands, but it was strongly implied (the man and woman, not the birds… how would that even work?). Squirrels and deer came in and out of view on the periphery. Adorably so.
They had been friends forever and then briefly lovers (the man and woman, not the squirrel and deer… although who can say for sure). This explains the last year and a half when they have not been in communication.
Their romantic entanglement had ended when she decided that she was bi-sexual and had entered a relationship with a female. He did not take the news well.
It should have been awkward to meet up again but it wasn’t. They immediately fell back into their comfortable pattern of talking about everything and nothing simultaneously. Everything and nothing seemed funnier or more poignant when they were together.
“So” he began, “Are you still a card-carrying lesbian?”
She smiled. “About that…” she answered and then trailed off. They walked a considerable distance in silence. Again, not an awkward silence as much as a pause to build suspense. And to be clear, while the man and woman remained silent, the small birds kept up with the aforementioned tweeting and chirping.
“When I decided to break it off with you I’d been seeing the girl for a few weeks. But we hadn’t had sex yet. At the time I was pretty fixated with the idea of going down on a girl.”
It was apparent that she planned on trailing off again, even the path under their feet was in danger of transforming into a trail, but he was having none of it. “So you broke up with me when you hadn’t even determined if you were truly bi-sexual?” he asked rather pointedly.
“I guess it’s easier to explain with a story” she finally continued. Before he could object she barreled on. “I had an unrelated dream the other day, which was what inspired me to call you. It involved my dad, which then reminded me of a story he’d told me years and years ago.”
Clearly this was not the answer he was hoping for. If they had been holding hands he would have unheld it. Even the surrounding birds seemed to warble a little less lustily.
“When he was younger he heard a song on the radio that he liked so he went and bought the album. I don’t remember the name of the song, but the name of the band was Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks. Keep in mind my dad was never a big music guy so he had no idea who Neil Young was at the time. This album, which ended up being horrible, was the only thing my dad had to judge Neil Young by. He didn’t know that Neil had been part of Crosby, Still & Nash and he’d never heard of After the Gold Rush or Rust Never Sleeps. I know, I know, you of all people find that impossible to believe, but it’s the truth. All he knew was that this guy named Neil Young recorded a pretty shitty rockabilly album.”
It was at this juncture that he began to wonder if they would run out of woods before she got to her point.
“Later he found out that Neil had recorded the album just to piss off the record label he was recording for. While he didn’t consciously mean to make a bad album, he also didn’t seem to care either way. Sort of a ‘fuck you’ to the music industry’s expectations.”
He felt he had to interrupt with a very salient question; “What does this have to do with you going down on a girl?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m certain that it does” was all she had to say. Said in a way that made it clear that she knew perfectly well but was waiting for him to figure it out.
“Did you end up having sex with her?” he finally inquired. Inquired being a nice way of saying blurted out. Blurted out being a nice way of saying he wanted to strangle her to death right then and there. He looked around and saw nothing but ideal places to bury her.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Let’s just say I have new-found respect for you. The vagina up close is terrifying.”
All he could do was laugh. And laugh. As full-throated as any bird, large or small. Finally he added “Yes it is. Certainly not for the faint of heart.”
He suddenly felt the urge to hold her hand, which he didn’t act on, and press her for more details, which he also decided against. Instead he said “The song was probably Wonderin’. It was the only one on that album that got any airplay.” While her dad might not have been a big music fan, he was a dyed-in-the-wool musicophile. He knew every note Neil Young had ever recorded.
“How appropriate” she said with a wink and then got out her phone. After a few seconds she found it on Youtube and they continued their walk accompanied by the rhythmic stylings of Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks.
Baby, you’ve been gone so long
I’m wonderin’ if you’ll come home
I’m hopin’ that you’ll be my baby
I’m wonderin’ if I’ll be alone
Knowin’ that I need you to save me.
Lance Manion is the author of twelve collections of flash fiction, the most recent of which, The Forest of Stone, was published in January. His stories have appeared in 50+ publications and have been included in over a dozen anthologies. He has been posting daily stories on his website since 2012.
by Lance Manion
Songs are typically nothing more than a collection of metaphors that rhyme. Even the word ‘cover` has so many meanings that combined with a few convenient tropes, the listener can wrestle with any dilemma that they want with the full support of whatever version of whatever they happen to be listening to at the time. Throw in a few veiled references, sprinkle in words like ‘home’ and ‘save’ and you have the perfect soundtrack for a walk through the woods.
A man and a woman walked on a path under a canopy of trees. Small birds sang in full-throated fashion in the background.
They did not hold hands, but it was strongly implied (the man and woman, not the birds… how would that even work?). Squirrels and deer came in and out of view on the periphery. Adorably so.
They had been friends forever and then briefly lovers (the man and woman, not the squirrel and deer… although who can say for sure). This explains the last year and a half when they have not been in communication.
Their romantic entanglement had ended when she decided that she was bi-sexual and had entered a relationship with a female. He did not take the news well.
It should have been awkward to meet up again but it wasn’t. They immediately fell back into their comfortable pattern of talking about everything and nothing simultaneously. Everything and nothing seemed funnier or more poignant when they were together.
“So” he began, “Are you still a card-carrying lesbian?”
She smiled. “About that…” she answered and then trailed off. They walked a considerable distance in silence. Again, not an awkward silence as much as a pause to build suspense. And to be clear, while the man and woman remained silent, the small birds kept up with the aforementioned tweeting and chirping.
“When I decided to break it off with you I’d been seeing the girl for a few weeks. But we hadn’t had sex yet. At the time I was pretty fixated with the idea of going down on a girl.”
It was apparent that she planned on trailing off again, even the path under their feet was in danger of transforming into a trail, but he was having none of it. “So you broke up with me when you hadn’t even determined if you were truly bi-sexual?” he asked rather pointedly.
“I guess it’s easier to explain with a story” she finally continued. Before he could object she barreled on. “I had an unrelated dream the other day, which was what inspired me to call you. It involved my dad, which then reminded me of a story he’d told me years and years ago.”
Clearly this was not the answer he was hoping for. If they had been holding hands he would have unheld it. Even the surrounding birds seemed to warble a little less lustily.
“When he was younger he heard a song on the radio that he liked so he went and bought the album. I don’t remember the name of the song, but the name of the band was Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks. Keep in mind my dad was never a big music guy so he had no idea who Neil Young was at the time. This album, which ended up being horrible, was the only thing my dad had to judge Neil Young by. He didn’t know that Neil had been part of Crosby, Still & Nash and he’d never heard of After the Gold Rush or Rust Never Sleeps. I know, I know, you of all people find that impossible to believe, but it’s the truth. All he knew was that this guy named Neil Young recorded a pretty shitty rockabilly album.”
It was at this juncture that he began to wonder if they would run out of woods before she got to her point.
“Later he found out that Neil had recorded the album just to piss off the record label he was recording for. While he didn’t consciously mean to make a bad album, he also didn’t seem to care either way. Sort of a ‘fuck you’ to the music industry’s expectations.”
He felt he had to interrupt with a very salient question; “What does this have to do with you going down on a girl?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m certain that it does” was all she had to say. Said in a way that made it clear that she knew perfectly well but was waiting for him to figure it out.
“Did you end up having sex with her?” he finally inquired. Inquired being a nice way of saying blurted out. Blurted out being a nice way of saying he wanted to strangle her to death right then and there. He looked around and saw nothing but ideal places to bury her.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Let’s just say I have new-found respect for you. The vagina up close is terrifying.”
All he could do was laugh. And laugh. As full-throated as any bird, large or small. Finally he added “Yes it is. Certainly not for the faint of heart.”
He suddenly felt the urge to hold her hand, which he didn’t act on, and press her for more details, which he also decided against. Instead he said “The song was probably Wonderin’. It was the only one on that album that got any airplay.” While her dad might not have been a big music fan, he was a dyed-in-the-wool musicophile. He knew every note Neil Young had ever recorded.
“How appropriate” she said with a wink and then got out her phone. After a few seconds she found it on Youtube and they continued their walk accompanied by the rhythmic stylings of Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks.
Baby, you’ve been gone so long
I’m wonderin’ if you’ll come home
I’m hopin’ that you’ll be my baby
I’m wonderin’ if I’ll be alone
Knowin’ that I need you to save me.
Lance Manion is the author of twelve collections of flash fiction, the most recent of which, The Forest of Stone, was published in January. His stories have appeared in 50+ publications and have been included in over a dozen anthologies. He has been posting daily stories on his website since 2012.