Uh huh, yeaaahhhhhhhhh…

Published May 10, 2012 by Sandee

I would get a room at the Holiday Inn then go down to the “lounge” to drink and listen to this old man play the piano.  I stayed there here and there and we would chat between sets.  He had a southern accent.   He’d get me free scotch.  I could barely hear what he was talking about half of the time because his voice was weak.  He was a bald, tall black man, kind of stiff and he was really old.  But when he was playing the piano he would get lively.  He banged the keys, rocked back and forth, stomped on those pedals.

He had a creeping lascivious look in his eyes.  He would say something behind one of those looks and I couldn’t hear him clearly, but I suspected he was just saying something senile.  “Blabida blah, bleet bleet yeah,” he said then he held his hands out a foot apart facing each other.  So I asked him what he was talking about.  And he just said,  “Uh huh yeaahhh.” “What was that?”  I was getting frustrated.  “Dis looong,” he said.  He nodded his head and his eyes got really wide.  I was tired of saying “What?” so I just sat there and tried to figure out what the fuck he was talking about.  He finally said, “When I was young it used to groooww ‘bout dis’ loong.”  He was holding his hands out again, facing each other real far apart — like a measurement!  “Oh shit!”  I said.  “You talking about your whatchamakalit?  Good God!”  “Uh huh, yeaaahhhhhhhhh…”

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26 comments on “Uh huh, yeaaahhhhhhhhh…

  • Yeah! I was a social worker for crazy people at your age. Those sneaky old buggers were still using that Johnson like it worked. Some of them did! I like you. Room at a hotel to listen to the old guy play. What a human being you are, child. I think I knew you in another life.

      • God, I could have been rich … if only I’d had presence of mind to carry a Brownie. 😉

        Thanks. It makes me smile to know you like them. Really, smile.

  • You got me sitting in the chair next to you. Love how you describe things, words. Brilliant.
    I remember having a similar conversation, not paying too much attention to the blah blah because of noise or other disturbance, saying “WHAT” too many times and stopped whatting and suddenly realize the blah blah isn’t just blah blah, but something like a sales speech for what’s in the drawer. I told myself: You cannot say what too many times really.

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