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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1461252-The-Purple-People-Eater
by Shaara
Rated: E · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1461252
The song took her back to the memory ~~~~
A Writer’s Cramp (1,000 words or less/24 hours)

Prompt: A song on the radio evokes memories, elicits laughter, comforts in sadness...

Write a story or poem about a song on the radio and the associations it makes for the listener.




The Purple People Eater






I was flipping through the radio channels in search of my classical station when my fingers stopped, halted by a song I recognized. One eyed, one-horned, flying purple eater. I froze, time traveling back to eighth grade.

My friends and I were having a party deep in the heart of the patio-converted rec room of my parents’ house. A daffodil-yellow clothed table was laden with cookies, chips, and an old ice bowl filled with bottles of pop. Yellow streamers hung from the ceiling of the room. A yellow banner that Linda and I had made, welcomed everyone.

We were all crowded around the record player, staring down at a black, shiny 45. Alan had brought the disk with him -- Alan the boy from my math class, the one I’d admired from a distance (well, one desk over,) for months.

I stared at Alan as the others peered down at the record, listening to its crazy story. As usual, Alan had a single strand of hair that kept dropping down into his left eye. He was always pushing it back into place. I watched as his fingers brushed at it. My heart throbbed.

“Well he came down to earth and he lit in a tree
I said Mr. Purple People Eater, don't eat me.”


Tina was standing next to me. No one had started dancing yet. We were still all mingling, chatting nervously, hanging around the mixture of 45’s everyone had brought.

“I love that song,” said Linda, ogling Alan.

I wanted to kick her. I wanted to put my hands around her throat and squeeze, but of course I didn’t. I just giggled and said, “Yeah, me, too.”

Alan looked at Linda and smiled that adorable, lovely smile of his. The curl of dark brown slipped back into his eye.

For a moment I thought about yanking Linda outside and dragging her over to the pool. It was December, no heat in the water yet. Perfect.

“My favorite part is where the alien wants to be part of a rock band,” Sarah gushed, while staring at Stan. That was okay. I felt a rush of friendship for Sarah. Maybe I should make her my new best friend.

Stan must have caught the same vibe I was feeling. He gave Sarah a swift smile and said, “Hey, why don't you start the song again. Let’s dance, Sarah, okay?”

“Yeah. Good idea,” said Tim, as he trapped my hand and jerked me away from the record player before I had a chance to say anything.

Alan laughed and moved the needle over to the start of the record.

“Well I saw the thing comin' out of the sky. It had the one long horn, one big eye . . .”

Tim and I began dancing -- not cheek to cheek, of course. We were shaking our bodies, jiggling our hands up and down, and shuffling our feet and heads to the beat. Tim had a glint in his eye like he wanted to say something.

I looked away just in time to see Alan take Linda’s hand.

“Don’t make it so obvious,” my partner said, leaning forward to yell into my ear.

I backed instinctively then covered my move with a shimmy to the right.

“What do you mean? Make what obvious?” I shouted back.

“Well bless my soul, rock and roll, flyin' purple people eater
Pigeon-toed, undergrowed, flyin' purple people eater . . .”


Tim smiled, a smile that leaked out a hint of sadness. “You think I don’t know? You think everyone doesn’t know?” he said.

“Flyin' purple people eater
Sure looks strange to me.”


I knew what Tim meant. He didn’t have to gesture with his pointer finger as Alan and Linda spasmed by. I collapsed Tim’s finger with a grab and caught his other hand. Tim played into it.

Tim could really dance. I’d thought that no one knew Swing anymore. My mom and dad were always dancing in the living room, so they’d taught me, but who'd showed Tim the steps?

“Well bless my soul, rock and roll, flyin' purple people eater
Pigeon-toed, undergrowed, flyin' purple people eater . . .”


The music fit the Swing perfectly. Tim and I rocked on. Everyone else stopped and stared.

“Hey, you two. How you’d learn to do that?” someone called out as Tim swung me under his arm.

I’d never noticed how tall Tim was. He managed the maneuvers perfectly, not losing a beat, not acting the least bit unsure.

The two of us felt the others watching, but it didn’t matter. We were smiling at each other, enjoying the music, enjoying the smoothness of our dance.

“He was blowing it out, a'really knockin' em dead
Playin' rock and roll music through the horn in his head.”


As the saxophone wound down, raking every last bit of sweetness from the melody, Tim swept me back and into a low embrace. Then he reached down and touched my lips with his.

Suave!

I blushed, of course. I almost stumbled, but Tim was holding my body. He righted me back into position and then winked.

For the rest of the party, I never once looked at Alan.

*******************

Sheb Wooley’s Purple People Eater finished up. I found my classical station, then walked into the living room, plopped down into my husband’s lap, and stole a kiss.

“Remember that song, The Purple People Eater?” I asked Tim. A smile slid across his face.

“Sure do,” he said, and his lips met mine, kissing me even better than the first time so long ago.



941 words



Lyrics from:
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/sheb_wooley/the_purple_people_eater.html


~~~~~~~~~
© Copyright 2008 Shaara (shaara at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1461252-The-Purple-People-Eater