Fatfish, in folding chair with guitar, singing out: "But it musta been a bad time..."
Passersby glance dubiously at Fatfish, not knowing what to make of the odd little leprechaun man with the guitar singing oldies.
Mirror glass doors, the sliding doors of the store. This time with reflective coating, which helps to spurn heat.
C7 chord on piano. quarter notes, around a 140 bpm.
F, Bb, C.
Chunk on it.
On: Doors sliding open.
We're suddenly following behind a young fattish woman, in pajama pants, tee shirt, bedroom shoes.
She's walking in, and her bedroom shoes are flopping.
Her ass jiggles somewhat.
Raison' d'etre.
Ranch dressing. To hand.
Spray cheese. To hand.
King Vitamin. To hand.
Can of Monster Java. To hand.
Trailer add-on laundry room, old rotty ply wood, old washer and dryer.
Vocal: "I smell the rain, smell the rain, smell the rain..." It kind of descends with a guitar counter-point.
Cop drives up in cruiser, gets out slow, hands on hips, looking around slowly. Art shot. There is the little old trailer on the edge of a field of crops. Big old horizon.
A Malibu and another cruiser.
A well dressed black lady knocks on door.(Social Services representative)
children come to pajama girl, happily, and she happy, and they embrace, going in house.
Pajama girl gives a curt glance towards cops and well dressed lady, then shuts door on them.
The whole degenerates into Guitar and Drum only, with the C7 piano bit melting farther into the background, until it becomes a B minor in the seventh position.
VOCAL: "Musta been a bad tiiiiiiiime. To smell the rain."
Track awkwardly picks up Coda of Grand Funk Railroad's old song, Bad Time, with bass, drums, acoustic guitar rhythm and lead, and a soaring electric guitar lead.
VOCAL: "To be in love. To be in love. To be in love. To be in love."
Fade into oblivion.
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