"Barry Manilow's music can't be all bad," Scott told himself. "I'm just new to it. I'll bet this would be
fun if I were completely brain-dead." He didn't believe a word of it, of course. In his mind he was
desperately searching for a way to get out of here. Anything, even death, would be better than
listening to "I Write the Songs" one more time.
Finally, as Barry segued into "I Write the Songs" for the millionth* time (for he had been here for as long as Scott remembered, for whatever reason), Scott had had enough. He screamed, charged for the staircase, and dove off the precarious railing. (*)It actually was the millionth time.
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12/9/2007 12:28:53 PM
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