Song From The Sixteenth Floor
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: We all remember exactly where we were when we heard that 'certain' song.
_____________________________________________________________________
As elevator music went, this was none too shabby, none too shabby at all. Belinda hummed along all the way down to the car park.
A holiday weekend and a forecast of inclement weather made her mind up for her. She would gut the flat from top to bottom then sort the hundreds of downloaded songs piling up on her computer, that would keep her busy.
The car radio burst into life when she turned the key in the ignition but she couldn't get that song out of her head and switched it off. Try as she might, she couldn't remember the words although the tune was ever present in her mind.
She had been a bit of a tomboy as a child and had learned to whistle. Whistling, spitting and swearing had been her three favourite pastimes back then, much to the horror of her parents and teachers.
So she whistled the tune to herself on the short drive home. One dude in a flashy sports car thought she was blowing kisses at him and she stopped in mid whistle to have a good old belly laugh. She then gave him the finger when he started up with the hand signals.
She gave the song a name, obviously not it's real title but something to keep it at the forefront of her mind. Since she worked on the sixteenth floor she called it her 'Song from the sixteenth floor'.
Most of the words had left her by now but that tune would live on forever in her head.
She went straight to the computer as soon as she had her coat off, and, on a whim, typed 'song from the sixteenth floor' into the search engine of her best download site.
The phone rang, distracting her momentarily, well, more than momentarily since it was her mother, hell bent on a marathon catch up conversation.
She carried the phone to the computer and let out a scream, "Fuck me rigid, there's a song, there's a song called ' song from the sixteenth floor', would you believe it?"
Her mother tut tutted on the other end of the line then carried on where she left off. Belinda only lent half an ear while she pressed the download button and watched anxiously as it started coming down.
She made all the right noises back at her mother, going more of the inflections in her voice rather than the content of what she was saying. She didn't know the artist, one Paul Kelly whoever he was but she couldn't wait to hear what he had to say for himself.
She arranged to go to her mother's for Sunday dinner, listened to her for another twenty minutes or so then told her she would have to pee or burst, her mother let her get on with it and hung up.
It wasn't her song from the sixteenth floor, just pure coincidence it had her chosen title. It was Paul Kelly's song though, instantly likeable. She put it on repeat and turned up the volume so she could hear it from the bathroom while she had a soak, a pee first then a soak, she hadn't been lying about the pee.
Strange thing coincidence, she might never have heard of Mr Kelly if she hadn't stepped into the elevator at that precise moment. She was curious now, if he had written one fine song, surely he had written others. Typing 'Paul Kelly' into the search, Belinda sank back in her chair with a cup of coffee and waited expectantly.
Sure enough, another twenty odd songs came into view, she couldn't set them to downloading quickly enough in her excitement.
Then she punched his name in again, he was sure to have a web site or some sort of information outlet. Bingo, wow, an impressive discography, all Paul Kelly but with a number of different bands, he had been busy. He was an Australian, she wouldn't hold that against him, someone had to live there.
She lined up twelve already downloaded songs into her media player and went back to the site. Her eyes wandered to the tour dates guide and she let out another scream the neighbours would surely have heard. Paul Kelly was in Chicago this coming Sunday, another coincidence or was it fate?
Belinda was a great believer in fate, even more so now. And his band, The Boon Companions, one of the firm of solicitors she worked for was named Boon, Daniel Boon.
Then it dawned on her, she was having dinner with her mother on Sunday, she had promised.
She played the songs over and over as she got stuck into a bit of housework and was completely hooked. Digging out her credit card, she did a little online shopping and ended up with the man's entire back catalogue.
Ten minutes later she was on the phone to her mother, not cancelling, inviting her to attend a concert with her, an early dinner at a nice restaurant then a concert, everybody happy.
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: We all remember exactly where we were when we heard that 'certain' song.
_____________________________________________________________________
As elevator music went, this was none too shabby, none too shabby at all. Belinda hummed along all the way down to the car park.
A holiday weekend and a forecast of inclement weather made her mind up for her. She would gut the flat from top to bottom then sort the hundreds of downloaded songs piling up on her computer, that would keep her busy.
The car radio burst into life when she turned the key in the ignition but she couldn't get that song out of her head and switched it off. Try as she might, she couldn't remember the words although the tune was ever present in her mind.
She had been a bit of a tomboy as a child and had learned to whistle. Whistling, spitting and swearing had been her three favourite pastimes back then, much to the horror of her parents and teachers.
So she whistled the tune to herself on the short drive home. One dude in a flashy sports car thought she was blowing kisses at him and she stopped in mid whistle to have a good old belly laugh. She then gave him the finger when he started up with the hand signals.
She gave the song a name, obviously not it's real title but something to keep it at the forefront of her mind. Since she worked on the sixteenth floor she called it her 'Song from the sixteenth floor'.
Most of the words had left her by now but that tune would live on forever in her head.
She went straight to the computer as soon as she had her coat off, and, on a whim, typed 'song from the sixteenth floor' into the search engine of her best download site.
The phone rang, distracting her momentarily, well, more than momentarily since it was her mother, hell bent on a marathon catch up conversation.
She carried the phone to the computer and let out a scream, "Fuck me rigid, there's a song, there's a song called ' song from the sixteenth floor', would you believe it?"
Her mother tut tutted on the other end of the line then carried on where she left off. Belinda only lent half an ear while she pressed the download button and watched anxiously as it started coming down.
She made all the right noises back at her mother, going more of the inflections in her voice rather than the content of what she was saying. She didn't know the artist, one Paul Kelly whoever he was but she couldn't wait to hear what he had to say for himself.
She arranged to go to her mother's for Sunday dinner, listened to her for another twenty minutes or so then told her she would have to pee or burst, her mother let her get on with it and hung up.
It wasn't her song from the sixteenth floor, just pure coincidence it had her chosen title. It was Paul Kelly's song though, instantly likeable. She put it on repeat and turned up the volume so she could hear it from the bathroom while she had a soak, a pee first then a soak, she hadn't been lying about the pee.
Strange thing coincidence, she might never have heard of Mr Kelly if she hadn't stepped into the elevator at that precise moment. She was curious now, if he had written one fine song, surely he had written others. Typing 'Paul Kelly' into the search, Belinda sank back in her chair with a cup of coffee and waited expectantly.
Sure enough, another twenty odd songs came into view, she couldn't set them to downloading quickly enough in her excitement.
Then she punched his name in again, he was sure to have a web site or some sort of information outlet. Bingo, wow, an impressive discography, all Paul Kelly but with a number of different bands, he had been busy. He was an Australian, she wouldn't hold that against him, someone had to live there.
She lined up twelve already downloaded songs into her media player and went back to the site. Her eyes wandered to the tour dates guide and she let out another scream the neighbours would surely have heard. Paul Kelly was in Chicago this coming Sunday, another coincidence or was it fate?
Belinda was a great believer in fate, even more so now. And his band, The Boon Companions, one of the firm of solicitors she worked for was named Boon, Daniel Boon.
Then it dawned on her, she was having dinner with her mother on Sunday, she had promised.
She played the songs over and over as she got stuck into a bit of housework and was completely hooked. Digging out her credit card, she did a little online shopping and ended up with the man's entire back catalogue.
Ten minutes later she was on the phone to her mother, not cancelling, inviting her to attend a concert with her, an early dinner at a nice restaurant then a concert, everybody happy.
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in his 50s, an ex-seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in sunny Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing. He is inspired by the Ayrshire coast and likes what he calls "real music". He also enjoys pool, snooker and is a big fan of rugby league side, Wigan Warriors. He has written several novels and one poetry collection and says that writing gives him "endless pleasure". His two ebooks can be viewed by clicking on the images below.
Angus tells us that all his stories on McStorytellers have been inspired by the titles of songs written by Paul Kelly, who is often described as the poet laureate of Australia.
Angus tells us that all his stories on McStorytellers have been inspired by the titles of songs written by Paul Kelly, who is often described as the poet laureate of Australia.