by Judy Voss
“BillyBob thinks he’s God,” Shelly complains.
“That makes you a goddess,” replies her daughter, Trish.
“He should treat me as one,” Shelly whines. “All that fame from just one song.”
”Yep, you wrote him a country western hit—those groupies, opportunities. But, he didn’t cheat on you.”
“Oh cheating?” Shelly interrupts, “occasional hanky-panky was acceptable!”
“Too much info, Mom.”
“After all I’ve done . . . All those sacrifices . . .”
Trish yawns. “You’re a cliché, Mom . . .”
“No love. Zilch!”
From the garage, BillyBob bursts into his 70’s hit, “Ain’t No More Hanky in My Panky.”
Ain’t No More Hanky In My Panky
Ain’t no more hanky in my panky
M’girl done set me free
She took the ump, outta my pump
And lied about cheating on me.
Ain’t no more hanky in my panky
Now we’ll never grow old
She sold my dog; stole my truck
Then left me by the side of the road.
Chorus
No more hanky no-uh
No more panky no-uh
What’s done is done
I’m movin’ on
Not stuck by the side of the road
Ain’t no more hanky in my panky
Truth cannot be known
Next time around I’ll buy a hound
And go through life alone.
A Possible Comeback Song?
“I begged you for another hit,” whines BillyBob.
“I already gave you my best!” Shelly spits back.
“Only one song. And only one time,” he says, sadly, head jerking towards Trish.
Trish ignores this tired fight, never knowing what to believe.
“I’ll show you,” BillyBob hisses. “I’m writing my own comeback song. Authentic, about us—again—”
“Variations on a theme?” interrupts Trish.
“Similar, but different.”
Shelly sighs, “Probably same old, like before.”
“Let’s hear it,” suggests Trish, breaking the tension.
BillyBob clears his throat. “It starts like this: Ain’t no more zip-a-dee- in your doo-dah.”
“Huh?” they utter together.
Ain’t No More Zip-a-dee-
Ain’t no more zip-a-dee- in your doo-dah
So, you want me back?
You say you’re hot, but, no, you’re not
I’m giving you the sack.
Ain’t no more la- in your di-da
You claim you’re such a catch.
You think you’re better, you old gold digger.
You finally met your match.
Chorus
Ain’t no more zip-a-dee- no-ah.
Ain’t no more la-di-da no-ah.
You done me wrong.
I’m movin’ on.
You’ll never get me back!
Ain’t no more love where you come from
Because you’re such a wreck.
Knowin’ you, you will never be true.
You got all you’re gonna get.
A Daughter’s Conundrum –
No More Sis in Your Boom Bahs
Trish knows both parents are more married to music than each other. But she’s optimistic.
Since she takes after both of them, she starts a new song.
There’s no more sis in your boom bahs.
I’m sayin’ what I think.
Your love was “is” but fell to “was.”
You two should see a shrink.
Maybe someone could help them. Perhaps an intervention?
Suddenly she barges in on their latest squabble and shouts,
“STOP!!! Both of you just STOP, and both of you sit and write the next song.
Get it together. I mean it!”
Shocked, they both reply, “We’ll try.”
Second Chance by Shelly and BillyBob
There’s still some hanky in our panky
How’d we get so off track?
We’ll search for love that we once dreamt of
And take each other back.
There’s still some sis in our boom bahs.
We’ll work at showing care
We’ll go from blah to oohh la la
There’s just enough share.
Chorus
No more doubting no – uh
No more shouting no – uh
Been there, been done
We’re moving on
We’ll take each other back.
There’s now more touch where we come from
We seized love just in time
We’ll both be true. Repeat “I do!”
Perhaps we’ll reach sublime.
Epilogue
“It’s not a country western song,” BillyBob complains.
“Not rock and roll, either,” Shelly observes.
“But it’s a hit!” says Trish. Her parents hear the excitement in her voice. “It’s positive, upbeat,” she continues, “and it’s going gold.”
“We have moved on,” Shelly proclaims.
“But this ain’t right,” BillyBob starts.
Trish feels the old squabbles looming, puts her hands over her ears and sings,
“No more doubting!
No more shouting!”
Her parents give in. They embrace as Trish points out the time is right for second chances for love, money, possibly sex.
Trish’s best-selling hit “Exhuming Love” also goes gold.
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