The Weird Insights of a Scobberlotcher

Six Sounds Dull Yellow

You wouldn't think it could get worse. It did. I started to feel trapped in the house. I was watching t.v. one afternoon. I was also having a drink. Scotch on the rocks. It helped. With very little effort you can hide from almost anything behind a bottle of 80 proof. It came with its own set of complications if you started too early but closing time was whenever I said it was. I happened to look up at some point and noticed that the walls were getting closer. It wasn't frightening or anything dramatic. Not really claustrophobia. It was more a strange combination of irritation and itchiness. I just felt suddenly confined and squirmy. Now, I have no idea how it happened, one of those weird concatenations of thoughts maybe, or maybe it was some kind of symptom, but right then I developed an ear-worm. Faron Young's 'Hello Walls.' It just wouldn't stop buzzing and banging around in my mind like a bumblebee trapped in a bottle. 'Hello, Helloooo.' It even drowned out Judge Judy. No mean feat. I tried a cure suggested to me by a friend. Replace the one that is afflicting you with the theme from the Beverly Hillbillies which, apparently, then slowly dissolves of its own accord. Unfortunately it wouldn't install. I was stuck with Young. 'Hello, Helloooo-oooo' crooned by a guy who ended up committing suicide. This was when I ditched the dog and started going for long walks all by myself. And it worked. No more country classics in a one tune juke box. The bubble still turned the world to crap but at least there was no old, extraneous crap. The gloom was always fresh and new.