Life With Beat

"Okay, Herb, bring in your intro, ready on the horns. One, two... One, two!" Beatense sang the piece a few times, but her voice sounded too cynically jaded to succumb to a desolate heart. She then sang Papa Say Do No Do six times. "Ah, yes-yes, marvelous. But we need a more peppy tone, Miss Colwell." "Well, this is the way I sing. Don't you have any morbid songs I can do?" "Benton, give her Hey, Don't Wake Me Up! Herb? From the top." Beatense began to worry about the sun out there. This was ridiculous. Why all this horsing around? She hated how people could be so content to be pale. Under mounting high stress, she sang Hey, Don't sounding like she didn't care either way. Her weary sad voice put a new twist into this lighthearted tune, giving it a cheap slum hotel and broken hopes pathos that was haunting. Maverick was booked for any possible recordings, but this was a take. She signed the papers and left at noon with a surprising $20,000. First the bank, then a far too delayed hot bake.