It was a Bibim-bop
...it's pretty catchy.
They were a Juan hit wonder.
"You picked a fine time to leave me, Loose Wheel!"
Bert and Ernie worked together as daytime radio hosts for over twenty years. They'd traded jokes, played pop music and generally made peoples lives a touch brighter as they trundled to their workplace.
Now though, there was a silence on the air. Ernie silently reread the fax from civil defense. As licensed broadcasters, they were legally obligated to alert the public, to tell them that several nuclear missile launches had occured, and that in a few minutes all the world's troubles would be over. But what was the point in that? To torture people with the knowledge of something they couldn't change?
Ernie looked up at Bert. Their eyes met and a decision was reached. Bert put on their most requested song, a sugary top 40 tune, while Ernie produced a bottle of bourbon from under the desk. As their producer banged on the locked studio coor, the colleagues toasted the end of a long career.
Bert. always the consummate professional, turned away as the first explosion split the horizon. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt and brushed his hair back. He would meat his fiery death with dignity.
He turned to Ernie and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "How do I look, Ernie?"
Ernie walked slowly over to his friend. He hugged his companion, released him and studied Bert's face. He saw the closeness they shared, all the long years tying them together, and the strength of their relationship. He took a deep breath, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He spoke in a quiet, broken tone:
"With your eyes, Bert."
“Pop.” Goes the weasel.
Apparently he wanted to churn out catchy pop songs
Not my dad, but my SO's father is both a religious man and an intellectual, so pop culture is really not his thing.
However, whenever someone even mentions Miley Cyrus, he bursts into song, singing "I came in like a wreeeeeeecking baaaaall, 'cause I have no taleeeeeeeent at aaaaall." Then he just sits and waits for the applause.
Driving in the car, he wants fast music, I change from rock to pop and start slightly pumping the brakes to the beat of the song.
"Wow, nice brake dancing!"
So, let's see that report card. Hmmm. Not so great this term, eh? Maybe you should have bought some tutor mice.
What are tutor mice? You never heard of tutor mice? No wonder. There's this elf, see, and he trains mice to teach kids different subjects. You buy one mouse for math, another for English, and so on. Each mouse you buy is a guaranteed A.
And the best thing is, this elf doesn't have a shop or anything. He comes to you. All you have to do is sing the song.
What do you mean what song. Everybody knows the song. You just have to sing it like you really mean it, and he'll pop up and sell you some mice. Like this:
♫I'LL BUY MICE, E-E-ELF...♫
♫DON'T WANNA 'B'!♫
♫I'LL BUY MICE, ELF!♫
They'd traded jokes, played pop music, and generally made people's lives a touch brighter as they trundled to work.
Now, though, there was silence on the air. Ernie silently reread the fax message from the Department of Defense. As licensed broadcasters they were legally obligated to alert the public, to tell them the nukes were flying and that in a few minutes all the world's troubles would be over. What, though, was the point of that? To torture people with the knowledge of something they couldn't change?
Their eyes met and a decision was reached. Bert put on their most requested song, a sugary top 40 tune while Ernie produced a bottle of bourbon from under the desk. As their producer banged on the locked studio door the colleagues toasted the end of a long career.
Bert, always the consummate professional, turned away from the window as the first explosion split the distant horizon. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt, and brushed his hair back. He would meet his fiery death with dignity.
He turned to Ernie and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "How do I look, Ernie?"
Ernie walked slowly over to his friend. He looked into Bert's face and saw the closeness they shared, the strength of their relationship, forged over the years. He took a deep breath and spoke quietly:
"With your eyes, Bert."
