So it Begins

Those of you who have been following this blog will know that I have had an earworm for an oddly long amount of time. I should be happy to report that, while it has not gone away, it has at least been replaced. However, I’ve become the victim of my own trickery. The song that has replaced it is the song I posted yesterday ‘Master Splinter’. This cruel injustice is at least mildly drowned out by tinnitus.

Now, of course I know it’s kind of strange to be a fictional character that fancies themself an author, having an earworm replaced by a song that they wrote, which doesn’t even exist. Buuuut, it is a strange world that people live in. It’s even far stranger viewing it through the eyes of the person whose head I inhabit. Of course, it does carry the potential to physically hunt down and execute said earworm. By physically I mean ethereally, but, I think you get the idea.

My biggest concern is that I wasn’t exactly kidding when I stated that this earworm grew teeth. Who the hell knows what other appendages and unearthly weapons this imagination has given to said figment. For fucks sake! Why can’t the owner of this mind give me som…oh look, a flamethrower…. I’ll keep you all updated on what happens.

BY: CHAROLETTE S. WEBB

Master Splinter

(Sung to the tune of ‘Dear Winter’)

Sir Splinter, I know you fell into some ooze
But at least it kept you concentrating
not reciprocating blame or drinking booze
And multiplying as rats do.
And Splinter, you know you’re not to blame
For Shredder, The Foot, and that talking brain
‘Cause Splinter you’re a cowabunga rat
The dad of four ninja turtles is pretty fucking phat

Hi-ya, ah ah ah hi-ya
Pizza fills the bellies of the teenage mutant ninjas
Sensai Splinter, where’d you get the cash?
Was it a desperate dash across some roofs
to engage in combat with some punk-ass cats?
If so I say you earned that cash

Sir Splinter, I hope you know that it’s all good
Being part of my childhood on Saturdays
And teaching meditative ways to beat The Foot
Shredders just a bitch-ass crook!

Hi-ya ah ah ah hi-ya
Please don’t tell Leonardo, Raphael or Mike
but Donnies my favorite turtle tyke, you see.
Plus, put in a good word to Ms. O’neal for me
Also, if it’s all the same don’t tell Casey Jones, alright?

Master Splinter, Easton and Laird’s main rat
I heard they no longer talk that much
For you that must equate to the word drat!
Don’t worry though I’m sure some day that you’ll be back.

If you enjoyed this little rhyme check out volume 1 of ‘The Kiln’

BY: CHAROLETTE S. WEBB

It’s Not Just an Earworm

Day two (actually, I started counting ten days ago and it was still pretty consistent for days prior) that I’m writing about this horrific earworm of a song…’Dear Winter’…. Folks have told me that listening to the song will get rid of the earworm. Alas, I have heard it numerous times per day and there has been no eradication of the incessant leech.

I wake up with the jingle in my head, with the few lyrics I know dancing their way from ear to ear inside my little brain. To top it off the high pitch “ah ah ah ah ah-ah” part bounces off of vibrating guitar strings followed by the line in which the poor kid thinks there’s really nobody for him.

Now, don’t get what I’m stating twisted. In no way do I find this an awful song. My ire is aimed at the earworm. The obnoxious little slug-like creature that is spinning some type of silky tune in my mind. The once cute and innocent thought has now grown teeth and manifested into a horde of ‘Dear Winter’ zombies. They must be stopped!

BY: CHAROLETTE S. WEBB

Breaking News

LONG WINTER

The hit song ‘Dear Winter’ by the popular band ‘AJR’ has inadvertently caused groupies to change their names to ‘Delilah’. The catchy tune is almost hypnotic in its simplicity and has the capacity to carry with it a very insidious earworm. By comparison, another earworm song ‘Hey There Delilah’ by ‘Plain White Tees’ caught the attention of one girl in particular. Delilah became a momentary muse for the band’s lead singer; catching her affections though he had only seen her once and met with her again thereafter. ‘Winter’ takes this concept to an entirely different level (and a degree of annoyance when the song is running through your head every morning when you wake up!).

Concert goers have reported an astronomical amount of fangirls (and boys) turning out to shows holding up signs that read “make me Winter’s mom” and “I’m no longer questioning”. It’s a lovely thought to be the doting parent of a child that doesn’t exist and it’s wonderful for a person to finally have certainty in their gender status. But, it undoubtedly holds the prospect for an army of soldiers named ‘Winter’ mothered by ‘Delilahs’ all over the globe. In a world where childbirths are on a bit of a decline. ‘Dear Winter’ is feared to cause an outbreak of ‘Generation Winter’, which puts the earth’s already dwindling natural resources at risk once again. Let’s hope in the next few decades this crisis can be avoided.

BY: CHAROLETTE S. WEBB