Finding The Rhythm With Short Stories: Patrick Swayze

Описание: Sometimes I like to imagine myself on The Voice.

From the shadows I emerge perfectly tailored in black garment, standing tall in faded leather boots. Pacing myself, each step follows the next, escorting me closer to center stage. The host, in this particular instance, Patrick Swayze circa 1987, offers to me his most gracious introduction. Several moments after, I begin to sing dark melodic melodies from my soul, transferring like electricity through the audience.

Being a huge fan of the '80s, I would be singing Eric Carmen's Hungry Eyes. This being not only for myself, but as an ode to Swayze who is swaying back and forth slowly just off-stage, reminiscing about Dirty Dancing. I turn to him, Patrick looks to me, we make eye contact for a sensational second and at that moment, three of the four judges hit their buzzer. The room erupts, everyone goes wild. Swayze is smiling, his hair perfectly sun-kissed, bouncing as he begins to find the rhythm.

The last judge, Pharrell, whom I'm counting on, has yet to hit his buzzer and the song is half over. I stand still on stage, singing my heart out looking back at Swayze, Swayze staring back at me, my eyes asking him, "What do I do?" Suddenly the room goes silent. No wait, it's not the audience, it's me, I'm freaking out. I am freaking the fuck out. I gaze towards Pharrell as he sits calmly, legs crossed, foot lightly tapping, his index finger pressing upon his temple. It's almost as if he's waiting for something. He needs and wants something extra special. I reconnect, I'm still on stage singing knowing at this point something has to be done. I quickly snap my eyes at Swayze, he holds his finger up as to signal "I've got an idea," and quickly runs back stage. I look over at Pharrell when suddenly I hear my name being shouted. I turn, there stands Swayze cradling a golden object while saying to me in slow motion, "I believe in you."

He tosses me a saxophone.

I catch this relic, this brass dagger in my hands, my savior. The first note pierces through. My hips are swaying towards Pharrell, he slaps his buzzer with the anticipation of everyone there. The energy in the room is unbelievable. The judges are all clapping to the beat, one is slightly out of sync. Swayze runs on stage, they keep perfectly looping the song, I keep playing infinite saxophone solos while dancing, singing, and laughing with Patrick Swayze by my side, forever and ever.

The end.