Daily Prompt: Earworms of Your Mind
An earworm is a curious creature; I have the sneakin’ suspicion there’s no fathoming them – or their musical taste.
Currently mine is obsessed with Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra – most embarrassing when the kids in your class regard anything in the charts last year as: “well old” and “past it!” But what is it with the little critter? Why can’t they pipe up when it’s noisy? When people won’t hear what you’re singing? Oh no.. that would be too easy. They wait, wait until you can hear the sound of silence… when you’re at the point when your guard is down, your boxer is at peace; when all is calm, all is bright and before you can zippi di do dah … my worm will doobie doobie do and my equilibrium is shattered.
Until recently however, I was under the mistaken apprehension that Ear Worms worked alone: they don’t. They’re in cahoots. When I’m at home, my worm communicates with OH’s. We can be at opposite ends of the garden; in different rooms in HQ. We might not have spoken for hours. Then, suddenly, the urge to sing slithers into the head, weevils its way into the conscious; and before you can say: with your head tucked underneath your arm..
he’s belting out: “at the end of the day… ”
I’m pointing out: “You’re another day older.”
And – if we’re really unlucky both of us – simultaneously – will announce that really all you have to do is: “Look down, look down, you’re standing in your grave.”
But it’s at work that the ear worm comes into its own. They delight in letting you know that suicide is crazy! It’s almost like they get points in the Ear Worm League.The more confusion they spread, the more they put you under pressure, the higher up the stairway to heaven they get. For example, I’ll be forced to sing songs from the movies, a second colleague will be singing nursery rhymes whilst a third will be whistling a melody from hymns ancient and modern. Then without warning; we’re all wombling free! We stop, stare at each other count our reasons to be cheerful 1, 2, 3 and I’m singing nursery rhymes, number two is blasting out hymn number 295 “I vow to thee my country” and number three is preparing to work from 9 til 5!
I’m fast reaching the conclusion that even if you were to dust my broom, the little blighters don’t want to stop. They’re having such a good time.
In fact, they’re having a ball.
However one enchanted evening, it will all end. The human race will stand and deliver rock and roll suicide . There’ll be none of your kinky boot killing, no digging of holes to bury these ear worms in- not even the big and sort of round ones. It will be Waterloo… Boom banga bang! Possibly the man with the golden gun will ensure everything is ashes to ashes.
And no doubt … when all we can do is think to ourselves what a wonderful world, we won’t!