Drop the Mic

What kind of mic do you have?
He asked when his name was called
As he lifted from the floor
A large metal briefcase
That he placed on the bar
Opened with a double click
As each of the latches got released
Lifting the lid an array
Of microphones was revealed
Pretty much every kind
You could imagine
Each with its own
Specific place
In a weird foamy cushion
But the mic in the bar
Was moulded into the cable
That went all the way to the mixer
Cheap
But then
What bar in its right mind
Is gonna lay out a ton
For a karaoke microphone
None
Which is why
The story told here
Is one that kept on happening
And still does to this day
Anyway
He didn’t have any cables
Of this own to reach the mixer with
On account of the cables in question
Being a bit moody
When it comes to being wound up
The circumference of his case
Not big enough
Meaning all the little cables inside
Would get broken
So he sighed
Having waited an hour and a half
For his turn
Closed the lid again
Redid the clasps
Click-click
And when someone in the bar
Reiterated
He could use the one there
With an emphasis on how weird
He was being
He barked like a dog
Don’t be so ridiculous!
And muttered something about germs
Under his breath
Causing the barkeep to
Call him rude and ask him to leave
Something he said I was going to anyway
So off he went
Briefcase under arm
All the way back to his flat
Passing all the other pubs
This had already happened in
A good hour walk at least
There he climbed the stairs
To his room
Where his sat on his bed
Suitcase open
Looking at his fine array
Of microphones
But not using any
Brooding instead

Thanks for reading 🙂

N. P. Ryan

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