Victrola 65
Beto Palaio, July 2009
My name is Victrola Sixty-Five and I’ve been eating the records of Frank Sinatra for a long time. They all look alike: round, black, with a hole in the center, but they tasted very good.
It was always the same with me. As dawn began to weave a new day I began to eat records of Frank Sinatra.
My owner woke up that morning feeling like a real woman. She was a beautiful girl and was searching for true love in a new relationship. And that happened to be working out just fine last night, so I was screaming “New York, New York” while the mirror painted smiles on her face.
She was really mad for true love, and broke up with her husband to have an affair with a guy 15 years younger. And this boy was the gardener and poolboy for the rich and famous around Beverly Hills.
“Birds take care of each side of their wings”, cried the folk music that the boy made me eat ten minutes ago.
The boy had just put that record inside me, and he was very proud that love sometimes missed him. He had the habit of saying “groovy”, mainly when he and my owner smoked pot.
Suddenly their interests began to change, and I spent weeks without playing any music.
My owner’s husband was around here. They talked a lot, and that began to rush my owner. She was feeling like she was taking part in a chess game where the King was anxiously chasing the Queen.
“I am a crazy woman”, she said near me. That last part was true, because she came up with a new record her husband gave her.
And she made me eat Gladys Knight and The Pips going away in a midnight train through an endless rain in Georgia.
That old record is still around here…
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