Who would want to vote in some crumby election? They’re all the same. Two phonies telling you why the other one is more phony than he is. You can’t get away from them either. Everywhere are ads and signs and TV appearances. A guy can’t even go out and have a goddamn cigarette because of these morons. Every one of those bastards should be shipped out of this place. Send them all to the moon or something. They can argue about who has a better plan for the moon rocks. I don’t give a damn. I really don’t.

            I don’t know why, but I started to feel real depressed. That whole thing with the election bastard was getting to me. I went the stairs to the Rathskellar. They did karaoke on Thursday nights. Most nights were pretty good.

            The guy watching the entrance stopped me. “Over or under twenty-one?”

            “Over.” I said real slowly. If you said it too fast they definitely knew you weren’t twenty-one.

            “Let me see you I.D.”

            Right then I should have told him off. I should have raised hell like I’d never been asked such a damn foolish question in all my life. I’m too yellow for that though. I have a little bit of a yellow streak in me. Instead I tried to shoot the ol’ bull with him. “I left it at my dorm. Can you just let me off tonight?”

“No can do,” he said. What a bastard he was. He marked my hands with “X”s so that I couldn’t try to get any booze. He really was a great ol’ bastard. Anyone else would have just let me in. I guarantee it.

            So I went in and sat down at a table by myself. I listened to a few numbers. The usual stuff. Junk by Spice Girls, Creed, and Kerry Underwood. As I was sitting there I just kept getting more and more depressed listening to these people sing. They sounded horrible. The worst part was no matter how corny a song was or how bad the singers butchered it, everyone still applauded. It was like they had just recreated a masterpiece and everyone was in goddamn hysterics. It was enough to make you sick.

            Then this girl came onstage and the music started playing. It was real soft though, not like those other crumby songs. The girl wasn’t much to look at but when she started singing, you jumped up in your seat. It was like nothing you ever heard. She had the most beautiful voice. She would bring it real down low so you had to strain to hear it then throw it high as she got to a real passionate part of the song. A girl can really knock you out sometimes if she can do something like that. I could’ve sat there all night listening to that girl sing. Swear to God I could have.

            When the song was over though, some big bastard football player jumped onstage and started singing “Friends in Low Places”. It’s always like that too. As soon as something nice started to happen, some goddamn moron had to go and ruin it. I left like a bat outta hell. They’re all bastards. Really they are.