Karaoke Conspiracy

A very, very practical joke.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This short story is presented for personal entertainment only. Commercial and all other use is expressly prohibited.

(c) 2011-2019 Robert Horseman, All rights reserved.

The bar was crowded and noisy, and Greg yelled into my ear to be heard over the din. “You know that guy I told you about? He’s here.” I looked around but I had no idea what he looked like. I said, “I suppose it’s better if I don’t know who it is, so don’t point him out. I don’t want Kara to get suspicious. Is everything set?” “Yeah, the gang’s all here. You’re taking a big risk Steve, I hope you know that. She likes Karaoke to watch, but that’s all. She might hate you forever.” “I know.” My stomach was in a tight knot, but I couldn’t let Kara ignore what was so obvious to her friends. Tonight it was sink or swim. She just didn’t know it yet. A thin man with a ponytail walked on stage and grabbed the microphone, tapping it to make sure it was on. His voice boomed through the speaker system, “Wow, what a turnout! Welcome to the Grand Collusion’s infamous Thursday night Karaoke party. I’m Billy Morgan, your M.C. for the evening. Now would be a good time to get your refreshment orders in, so please make yourselves known to the wait staff.” He lifted a clipboard and said, “We have a long list of victi…, I mean performers tonight, and while not all of them will acquit themselves well, I expect all of you to treat them with the respect they deserve.” He motioned to the back of the room. “And if you cannot do that, Tony will teach you what respect means.” Tony was obviously the bouncer, who did a magnificent full body flex for the ladies. A high voiced sigh went through the room, followed by a low groan from the men. “Thank you Tony. We’ll get these songs queued up now. If you will all please take your seats, we’ll get started in a few minutes.” “Our table’s over here,” said Greg, indicating a long table in the middle. Our dispersed group of nine gathered from around the room and sat down. All were in on the conspiracy, but luckily Kara was oblivious. Had she gotten wind of our scheme, she never would have come. She was decked out in her usual fashion. A long black winding hair braid accented a quirky beauty that still made my heart skip beats whenever I was with her. Billy walked up to the microphone and held his hands up. The crowd quieted. “As a special treat, the house has offered a five hundred dollar prize for tonight’s best performer, as indicated by crowd applause. So please make your feelings known. Like it or not, I will be the judge of your voting volume.” He looked at his clipboard. “Tonight’s first performer is Sandra Hastings, singing Kiss Me.” He shielded his eyes. “Sandra, are you out there?” A voice from the back called, “Aww, just my luck to go first.” A young woman in a colorful shift made her way to the front and took her place behind the microphone. The guitar accompaniment started, and in a thin reedy voice she sang, “Kiss me, out of the bearded barley nightly, beside the green green grass…” I groaned, as did Greg beside me. Kara shushed us and began to sing along. It was a tradition that weak singers got helped along by the audience, and now many voices joined in. Eventually it ended with polite applause. The young lady took a quick bow and Billy stepped back to the microphone. Next up is--- Greg Walker, who will enamor us with his rendition of “She’s Always a Woman to Me.” Greg lowered his head, sighed, and gave me a crooked smile. It was all part of the plan, of course. Many of our friends had volunteered to humiliate themselves for the good of the cause. If this didn’t work, there’d be major paybacks due. Greg had a rather nasal voice that singing did not cure. He stood and made his way to the stage. He leaned toward the microphone and said, “For what I am about to subject you to, I am truly sorry. Feel free to join in to drown me out.” Billy Joel’s piano solo began, and the lyrics popped up on the screen. “She can kill with a smile---.” That’s as far as he got before the entire room erupted in song, drowning out not only Greg but the music track as well. By the end everyone was yelling and Greg was all smiles. Back at the table he said, “I only had to sing six words. That’s got to be a new record. Nevertheless, it’s going to cost you, Steve.” I scrunched up my face and glared at him, tipping my head toward Kara. He clamped his lips together. Fortunately, Kara was deep in conversation with Jennifer, and had her face turned away from us. Another twenty or so people sang, including several more from our group. A middle aged man did a respectable version of Subterranean Homesick Blues by Bob Dylan, although it’s hard to claim that as actual singing. It’s more like a long winded chant with background music. Then it was my turn. My stomach flip-flopped as Billy said, “Almost last and probably least, our next performer is Steve Brand, who’s going to try his hand at Wilson Pickett’s “In the Midnight Hour”. This ought to be interesting.” I got shakily to my feet. I’d never done this before, and even though I had practiced it all week, my stage fright was palpable. I approached the microphone, all the while praying that I didn’t make a jackass of myself. I spoke into the microphone, “If this is any good, I dedicate it to Kara, sitting right there in the middle. I love you babe.” This was followed by a chorus of whistles. I continued, “If it’s horrid, I dedicate it to Greg as full payment for his previous sacrifice.” The brass section opening music began, and it strangely relaxed me. I belted out the first line, “I’m gonna wait ‘till the midnight hour, that’s when my love come tumblin’ down---”. To my utter amazement not a soul joined in. I added some hip swinging. “I’m gonna wait ‘till the midnight hour, when there’s no one else around---”. Kara visibly blushed and several people cat-called. I made it through the whole song, and was relieved when it ended with decent applause. Kara was on her feet throwing me air kisses. I took a bow. My heart was still racing, whether from what had just happened, or what was about to happen I wasn’t sure. I shot and inquiring look at Billy, who winked back, indicating that everything was ready. I leaned toward the microphone. “I have a little story to tell as an introduction to our next singer. I met her three years ago when I audited a music interpretation class at the University of Wisconsin.” Even through the glare of the lights I could see Kara choke on the water she had been sipping. She pointed a finger at me and yelled, “No way Steve. Not gonna happen.” I continued, ignoring her glare. “Her minor was in music. As far as I know, I and a few of our friends are the only ones who have ever heard her sing. She has a huge fear of performing in public, but after tonight I hope you’ll agree that she has one of the most amazing voices you will ever hear. Will everyone please help me get Kara Ellison up here on stage?” A general roar went up from the crowd, starting with our table. It quickly turned into a chant. “Ka-ra, Ka-ra, Ka-ra---,” which only died down to applause when she got up and made her way to the stage. She arrived and put her hand over the microphone. “Steve, you’ll be paying me back for this. You won’t know when or how, but trust me, paybacks are a bitch.” The crowd watched this exchange in fascination, especially since her unamplified voice carried just fine. When she took her hand off the microphone I leaned over and yelled into it, “She has agreed to sing for us!” The crowd roared their approval. She leaned over to me and said into my ear, “I can’t do this Steve. I don’t even know what song to sing. And even if I did, I’d choke on the first note.” I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes. “I meant what I said. You are one of the best singers I have ever heard. I know you’re scared, but I did it, Greg did it, and a whole bunch of your friends did it. Just this once, put yourself out there. I promise I’ll never do this to you again.” She looked out into the expectant faces of the crowd. “But what will I sing?” “You’ll know it when you hear it. Just close your eyes and pretend you’re in the tub. I love you babe.” I turned to Billy and nodded. The first few bars of acoustic guitar music filled the room, and Kara looked up at me, her eyes wide. I mouthed the words, “close your eyes”, and gave her a reassuring smile. She turned to the crowd, and a moment later she did. “When I was young, you took my breath away And when you left, you didn’t look back You left me standing here alone A part of me gone forever…” At first her voice was timid, but it became stronger with each phrase. At the first chorus, her passion for the music came out in a flood, as though a dam had burst. She sang like I’d never heard her sing before, with a power and depth of feeling that left me breathless. I looked out over the crowd, and every face looked up with eyes wide and mouths open. When the song finally ended, the crowd was absolutely silent for a moment before one person started clapping, then another, and soon the whole room was on their feet cheering. She turned to me then, her eyes gleaming. She hugged me fiercely, and said into my ear, “My God, I had no idea it could be like that. Thank you, Steve.” She pulled back, and then kissed me hard, right up there on the stage. The crowd’s applause turned to whistling. When the uproar settled, I went back to the microphone and said, “I can’t wait for the payback after that.” I turned and beamed at her for a moment. She smiled and yelled, “When you least expect it…” I laughed and put my hand to my chest as though struck by an arrow. I turned back to the crowd. “Now I’d like to express my thanks to our friends who helped pull all this together, many of whom you see sitting at our table there. You see, the song you just heard is one that Kara actually wrote. I helped her do a simple recording of it a few months ago, and I stripped out her audio track. Then some of Greg’s friends from a local band recorded the drum and base tracks. The rest is history, although I am still amazed that we managed to pull it off.” I turned. “Billy, thanks for letting us do this.” I backed away and Billy returned to the microphone. “It is the unanimous decision of the judges, me that is, that tonight’s five-hundred dollar prize for best performer goes to our last performer, Kara.” He passed over a thin envelope, which Kara took with a wide smile. The crowd was again on their feet applauding. “Thank you to all tonight’s performers. Without you Thursday nights would be awfully quiet. There’s plenty of evening left, so please feel free to stay a while and relax.” I escorted Kara back to the table, and she stood behind her chair looking at the group. “So you all knew about this, didn’t you? I’d like to tell you how mad I am that you all did this to me, and part of me is mad, but mostly I’m grateful. Had I known, you wouldn’t have got me in the front door.” She laughed. “As it turned out, it was a truly amazing experience.” A bulky man in a business suit walked up behind Kara and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and faced him. “Kara Ellison? My name is George Jenkins, and I’m a talent scout for several record companies. I’m always on the lookout for new fresh talent, both in writing and performing.” He handed her a business card. “Please call me first before anyone else. I’d like to talk to you about your music.” She stood with her mouth open, unable to form words. I said, “Thank you Mr. Jenkins, she’ll be in touch.”

•••••The End •••••