The crowd roared with applauses as we set foot on stage at the grand Apollo Theater. The brightly colored lights, forming a halo around us, only enhanced my adrenalin. I walked over to my chair, wearing my famous purple pinstriped suit, and started playing. The beautiful chorus of all our instruments fused together filling the auditorium with awe and amazement. Our music was like that of the gods, perfect and pure. Never before had we sounded so good. When we finished the audience exploded. The clapping and cheering was the loudest the Apollo had ever heard. At the end of the night we all got into our sparkling red limo and I told my band mates after that performance we would forever live in luxury. As we all laughed and shared a drink of the finest whisky I noticed a bright pair of head lights heading for use. In an instant there was a loud crash and the lights were gone.
I slowly arose to the loud sound of sirens. I was lying on a musty coach in the Jaguar. The sirens meant a shift change for the dancers, and the manager came over to talk to me. He was concerned about me and told me I had yelled in my sleep.
“Did you have a bad dream?” he asked me. I replied with a simple no and told him it was just a painful memory. He then thanked me for my performance earlier in the evening, shook my hand, and walked away.
I got up from the stale coach, my breath still potent with the smell of cheap sour whiskey, and collected my two belongings. One, a case containing my old brass saxophone and the second an empty guitar case with a change of clothes and a few belongings left over from the tragic car accident which occurred nearly fifty years prior. Not only did the accident take away my fame and fortune but my ability to see. I grabbed my cases and slowly walked out of the building, feeling each wall to ensure I did not hit anything on the way out. As I exited my seeing eye dog, Louis A, greeted me, and we took of into the night searching for a home to crash at until morning.