The next day, the old man finally decided. Matthew McConaghey or however you spell his name had come to him in a dream and talked the old man out of becoming a male model. Offered to throw in a new Lincoln. Beatnik is definitely a better choice for you, Matt said. The old man called him Matt.
But Matt had a twist. He looked at the old man, paused, smirked, paused again as a little trace of a smile curled at one corner of his slender sensuous lips, spit again and drawled, you should be a singing beatnik. That’s right, a singing beatnik. If you don’t count Michael Bolton, never been done before.
The next morning the old man found a note. Next to his chair. Had no idea how it got there. Note said: My Wife Is Asleep & I Need Another Beer.
His first thought was, that’s got all the makings of a hit country tune. Next thought: Hey, that’s my handwriting!
Or maybe some gangster rap. Yo, shortie, raise your booty out da crib and get me brew. About the rhyme all the time.
But, to be honest, he fancied himself something of a balladeer.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXmlJQN5Pm8
To be real honest, out of the shower, the old man couldn’t sing a lick.
But the beard was coming along nicely.