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This story is purely fictional, any similarities between this story and your own life are purely coincidence.
Day 1
Dear Journal:
Something funny happened to me today. On the way to work, that Barry Manilow song, Copacabana, came on the radio. Now I know people like to make fun of Mr. Manilow, and with good reason. But it sure has a catchy tune to it. I even found myself beginning to sing along. And I’m ashamed to admit that it felt good. Anyway, later on that same afternoon a co-worker caught me in the bathroom whistling the tune. We had a good laugh about that!
Day 2
Dear Journal:
How weird! Today in a meeting, I started quietly humming the Copacabana tune. I didn't even realize that I was doing it! It’s no big deal, it’s just it was a little embarrassing. Don’t you find it funny how a song can get stuck in your head like that?
Day 3
Dear Journal:
Couldn't sleep last night. Copacabana kept running through my head. Even my cat, who sleeps at the foot of my bed got tired of hearing me mumble "her name was Lola, she was a showgirl" over and over, so she got up and moved to the sofa. I can't say that I blame her really. I’ve even been listening to an old “PJ and Duncan” album to try and get Copacabana off my mind, but no luck so far. Dozed off once for a few minutes, I dreamed that Barry Manilow was chasing me round a meeting trying to beat me over the head with an inflatable banana.
Day 4
Dear Journal:
Copacabana is starting to affect my work. Words to the song keep showing up on my computer screen whilst I'm trying to type. I haven't slept for two days. My flatmate has decided to go stay with his brother for a while. He said he just couldn’t take anymore. I got an email today from the Barry Manilow fan club. It started with: "You're one of us now". How did they get my e-mail address? I'm scared. Big brother is real, and it’s run by Barry Manilow.
Day 5
Dear Journal:
I was fired from my job today. I just don't know what got into me. I suddenly snapped and started loudly singing Copacabana at an important meeting with my division director. It took three security guards to get me down off the conference table (I know all the dance moves now, I got them from the fan club web site). I think it must be the lack of sleep. I can't go on like this. This afternoon I visited a hypnotherapist to see if he could help get the song out of my mind. One hour later when I left his office, we were both singing Copacabana, we were even beginning to harmonise. I’m still unable to sleep. Mostly I just cry. And sing, of course. Copa...Copacabanaaaahhhhhhhh. Help me.
Day 6
Dear Journal:
Barry Manilow must die. I have purchased a handgun and some shinny silver bullets. I have finally come to realize Barry Manilow is Satan, Beelzebub himself. I spent all night on the Internet trying to track down his address. I have just purchased a plane ticket. It won't be long now.
Day 7
Dear Journal:
On the way to the airport, I heard "Mandy" on the radio. It's also got kind of a catchy tune. I now hear Barry's voice inside my head. He tells me to do things. Bad things. Finally, it all makes sense. It's like in "I write the songs", when Barry says, "My home lies deep within you and I've got my own place in your soul." Barry now truly does have a place in my soul.
Thanks for reading
Day 1
Dear Journal:
Something funny happened to me today. On the way to work, that Barry Manilow song, Copacabana, came on the radio. Now I know people like to make fun of Mr. Manilow, and with good reason. But it sure has a catchy tune to it. I even found myself beginning to sing along. And I’m ashamed to admit that it felt good. Anyway, later on that same afternoon a co-worker caught me in the bathroom whistling the tune. We had a good laugh about that!
Day 2
Dear Journal:
How weird! Today in a meeting, I started quietly humming the Copacabana tune. I didn't even realize that I was doing it! It’s no big deal, it’s just it was a little embarrassing. Don’t you find it funny how a song can get stuck in your head like that?
Day 3
Dear Journal:
Couldn't sleep last night. Copacabana kept running through my head. Even my cat, who sleeps at the foot of my bed got tired of hearing me mumble "her name was Lola, she was a showgirl" over and over, so she got up and moved to the sofa. I can't say that I blame her really. I’ve even been listening to an old “PJ and Duncan” album to try and get Copacabana off my mind, but no luck so far. Dozed off once for a few minutes, I dreamed that Barry Manilow was chasing me round a meeting trying to beat me over the head with an inflatable banana.
Day 4
Dear Journal:
Copacabana is starting to affect my work. Words to the song keep showing up on my computer screen whilst I'm trying to type. I haven't slept for two days. My flatmate has decided to go stay with his brother for a while. He said he just couldn’t take anymore. I got an email today from the Barry Manilow fan club. It started with: "You're one of us now". How did they get my e-mail address? I'm scared. Big brother is real, and it’s run by Barry Manilow.
Day 5
Dear Journal:
I was fired from my job today. I just don't know what got into me. I suddenly snapped and started loudly singing Copacabana at an important meeting with my division director. It took three security guards to get me down off the conference table (I know all the dance moves now, I got them from the fan club web site). I think it must be the lack of sleep. I can't go on like this. This afternoon I visited a hypnotherapist to see if he could help get the song out of my mind. One hour later when I left his office, we were both singing Copacabana, we were even beginning to harmonise. I’m still unable to sleep. Mostly I just cry. And sing, of course. Copa...Copacabanaaaahhhhhhhh. Help me.
Day 6
Dear Journal:
Barry Manilow must die. I have purchased a handgun and some shinny silver bullets. I have finally come to realize Barry Manilow is Satan, Beelzebub himself. I spent all night on the Internet trying to track down his address. I have just purchased a plane ticket. It won't be long now.
Day 7
Dear Journal:
On the way to the airport, I heard "Mandy" on the radio. It's also got kind of a catchy tune. I now hear Barry's voice inside my head. He tells me to do things. Bad things. Finally, it all makes sense. It's like in "I write the songs", when Barry says, "My home lies deep within you and I've got my own place in your soul." Barry now truly does have a place in my soul.
Thanks for reading
Cheers, I have a lot of time on my hands at the moment and am finding writing very therapeutic.
You want to hear something scary?
The following CD actually exists:
"Barry Manillow sings Frank Sinatra."
*screams uncontrolably as he tries to stem the flow of blood from his ears*
The following CD actually exists:
"Barry Manillow sings Frank Sinatra."
*screams uncontrolably as he tries to stem the flow of blood from his ears*
That was an excellent read! Good work, man!
This story is purely fictional, any similarities between this story and your own life are purely coincidence.
Day 1
Dear Journal:
Something funny happened to me today. On the way to work, that Barry Manilow song, Copacabana, came on the radio. Now I know people like to make fun of Mr. Manilow, and with good reason. But it sure has a catchy tune to it. I even found myself beginning to sing along. And I’m ashamed to admit that it felt good. Anyway, later on that same afternoon a co-worker caught me in the bathroom whistling the tune. We had a good laugh about that!
Day 2
Dear Journal:
How weird! Today in a meeting, I started quietly humming the Copacabana tune. I didn't even realize that I was doing it! It’s no big deal, it’s just it was a little embarrassing. Don’t you find it funny how a song can get stuck in your head like that?
Day 3
Dear Journal:
Couldn't sleep last night. Copacabana kept running through my head. Even my cat, who sleeps at the foot of my bed got tired of hearing me mumble "her name was Lola, she was a showgirl" over and over, so she got up and moved to the sofa. I can't say that I blame her really. I’ve even been listening to an old “PJ and Duncan” album to try and get Copacabana off my mind, but no luck so far. Dozed off once for a few minutes, I dreamed that Barry Manilow was chasing me round a meeting trying to beat me over the head with an inflatable banana.
Day 4
Dear Journal:
Copacabana is starting to affect my work. Words to the song keep showing up on my computer screen whilst I'm trying to type. I haven't slept for two days. My flatmate has decided to go stay with his brother for a while. He said he just couldn’t take anymore. I got an email today from the Barry Manilow fan club. It started with: "You're one of us now". How did they get my e-mail address? I'm scared. Big brother is real, and it’s run by Barry Manilow.
Day 5
Dear Journal:
I was fired from my job today. I just don't know what got into me. I suddenly snapped and started loudly singing Copacabana at an important meeting with my division director. It took three security guards to get me down off the conference table (I know all the dance moves now, I got them from the fan club web site). I think it must be the lack of sleep. I can't go on like this. This afternoon I visited a hypnotherapist to see if he could help get the song out of my mind. One hour later when I left his office, we were both singing Copacabana, we were even beginning to harmonise. I’m still unable to sleep. Mostly I just cry. And sing, of course. Copa...Copacabanaaaahhhhhhhh. Help me.
Day 6
Dear Journal:
Barry Manilow must die. I have purchased a handgun and some shinny silver bullets. I have finally come to realize Barry Manilow is Satan, Beelzebub himself. I spent all night on the Internet trying to track down his address. I have just purchased a plane ticket. It won't be long now.
Day 7
Dear Journal:
On the way to the airport, I heard "Mandy" on the radio. It's also got kind of a catchy tune. I now hear Barry's voice inside my head. He tells me to do things. Bad things. Finally, it all makes sense. It's like in "I write the songs", when Barry says, "My home lies deep within you and I've got my own place in your soul." Barry now truly does have a place in my soul.
Thanks for reading
Day 1
Dear Journal:
Something funny happened to me today. On the way to work, that Barry Manilow song, Copacabana, came on the radio. Now I know people like to make fun of Mr. Manilow, and with good reason. But it sure has a catchy tune to it. I even found myself beginning to sing along. And I’m ashamed to admit that it felt good. Anyway, later on that same afternoon a co-worker caught me in the bathroom whistling the tune. We had a good laugh about that!
Day 2
Dear Journal:
How weird! Today in a meeting, I started quietly humming the Copacabana tune. I didn't even realize that I was doing it! It’s no big deal, it’s just it was a little embarrassing. Don’t you find it funny how a song can get stuck in your head like that?
Day 3
Dear Journal:
Couldn't sleep last night. Copacabana kept running through my head. Even my cat, who sleeps at the foot of my bed got tired of hearing me mumble "her name was Lola, she was a showgirl" over and over, so she got up and moved to the sofa. I can't say that I blame her really. I’ve even been listening to an old “PJ and Duncan” album to try and get Copacabana off my mind, but no luck so far. Dozed off once for a few minutes, I dreamed that Barry Manilow was chasing me round a meeting trying to beat me over the head with an inflatable banana.
Day 4
Dear Journal:
Copacabana is starting to affect my work. Words to the song keep showing up on my computer screen whilst I'm trying to type. I haven't slept for two days. My flatmate has decided to go stay with his brother for a while. He said he just couldn’t take anymore. I got an email today from the Barry Manilow fan club. It started with: "You're one of us now". How did they get my e-mail address? I'm scared. Big brother is real, and it’s run by Barry Manilow.
Day 5
Dear Journal:
I was fired from my job today. I just don't know what got into me. I suddenly snapped and started loudly singing Copacabana at an important meeting with my division director. It took three security guards to get me down off the conference table (I know all the dance moves now, I got them from the fan club web site). I think it must be the lack of sleep. I can't go on like this. This afternoon I visited a hypnotherapist to see if he could help get the song out of my mind. One hour later when I left his office, we were both singing Copacabana, we were even beginning to harmonise. I’m still unable to sleep. Mostly I just cry. And sing, of course. Copa...Copacabanaaaahhhhhhhh. Help me.
Day 6
Dear Journal:
Barry Manilow must die. I have purchased a handgun and some shinny silver bullets. I have finally come to realize Barry Manilow is Satan, Beelzebub himself. I spent all night on the Internet trying to track down his address. I have just purchased a plane ticket. It won't be long now.
Day 7
Dear Journal:
On the way to the airport, I heard "Mandy" on the radio. It's also got kind of a catchy tune. I now hear Barry's voice inside my head. He tells me to do things. Bad things. Finally, it all makes sense. It's like in "I write the songs", when Barry says, "My home lies deep within you and I've got my own place in your soul." Barry now truly does have a place in my soul.
Thanks for reading