Being back in a smaller buggy wasn’t the worst thing in the world, or so Tallywhack tried to tell himself. Sure, he had to drive half the time. Sure, the benches were more cramped, even with only one person sitting on them at a time. And yeah, it smelled bad right off the lot, but it was preferable to the alternatives:
Dead, being an alternative to any situation that doesn’t already include being dead,
Homelessness, read above, and
Bringing any single bug to any single person ever again.
Keeping these things in mind, Tallywhack was having the time of his life, even if he couldn’t keep John and Paul. The only horse they had for their little buggy was George. Now, George was great and all, nothing against him, but he was nothing compared to John and Paul, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down. Everyone has a George in their lives, you get it.
“Tally?”
“What’s up?” Tallywhack was half-heartedly holding the reins, letting George saunter down the dirt road at his own pace.
“About that writing session.”
“What about it?”
“Why don’t we try it?” Tallywhack turned to face Rodney for a second before coming back to his senses.
“Like, right now?” he asked, paying mind not to steer George and themselves into a ditch.
“Why not?”
“Well, I’m driving, to start.”
“Here, let me take over, will ya?” Rodney crawled through the window between the carriage and the driver’s seat. They’d tried to get the guys at the buggy dealership to widen it for them but it hadn’t helped much. Tallywhack hopped through the opposite way after Rodney had gotten in.
“Where’s my accordion? Oh, here we go. Alright, what are we thinking here?”
“If I were you, and I’m not but bear with me, I’d write something completely different from the old stuff. Create some separation from the band.”
“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. Are you thinking a new genre?”
“No, no, topic. New topic.”
“Hm…” Tallywhack could feel the unvarnished bench digging into his rump. “This buggy is so much worse than the other one.”
“Hey, stay on topic.”
“What topic?”
“Not sure. Have any ideas yet?”
“Not really.” He thought it better to stand up. “What about something like… things are worse than they used to be?”
“That’s alright.”
“No, it’s terrible.”
“You’re right, it’s pretty bad.”
“What else do I sing about, Rod? I’ve only ever written songs for the Bugs. I don’t know how to write any other way.” Tallywhack started to pace but stopped as George lurched the buggy left and right. It was like he was on a ship “...in a storm.”
“What did you say?”
“Like a ship in a storm. I don’t think I’ve used that one before.”
“It’s a little cliche, though.”
“What’s a better version of that? Something like… in the eye of a hurricane.” He played a few sporadic chords to go along with the idea.
“That’s the exact opposite of the other one.”
“Oh, yeah. Hm… what if it’s a metaphorical ship in a metaphorical storm? So the storm is… time or something?” He played a short, forlorn bass line while he spoke.
“Wait, wait, play that again. Ah, nevermind, it’s not as good as I thought, sorry.”
“It’s alright. What do we think of the time idea?”
“Time songs are usually pretty heavy. You think you can write something like that?”
“Well, it’ll be different, if anything. Rocking on another wave. Rocking on a different wave. This is stupid.” Tallywhack set his accordion on the bench, feeling a wave of doubt wash over him. “Waves of doubt?”
“Waves of doubt? How does that fit into the metaphor?”
“Well, I was thinking… I guess it doesn’t.” He tried to lay down but hit his head on the accordion. “Ah, accordion’s always causing me trouble,” he said, rubbing his new, keyboard shaped welt.
“So it’s like a personal identity sorta song?”
“No, I was just saying… ‘cause I hit my head on it.”
“Oh. Any id-”
“Rod.”
“Sorry.”
Tallywhack sighed and set the accordion on the floor to make room for his head. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking all manner of strange and overused poetic phrases. “It seems like every combination of words has been used already, Rod.”
“Maybe you should write a song about that. How nothing is original.”
“But there’s already a million songs about that.” Then, a flash of mental lightning. And Tallywhack, by some miracle, managed to get a bottle under it just in time. He sat up. “What about making a song out of phrases that no one’s said before?”
“Like what?”
“I dunno, like… don’t eat on Mondays, it’s bad for indigestion.”
“Ah,” Rodney said, snapping his fingers, “heard Davy say that the other day.”
“Oh. What about… do you think we caused that riot in Rattwater?”
“I’m like 90 percent sure you’ve said that recently.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tallywhack said, laying back down. “I really thought I was onto something there. I felt the lightning in the bottle.”
“You know you can’t trust that sorta thing, Tally. Great songs don’t just appear out of thin air.”
Now, let me tell you, there are few things left in this world that still baffle me. Just a few. What happened next is one of them.
As Rodney looked back through the shimmy hole, about to continue his lecture on the creative process, the two of them bore witness - hand to the gods - to a parchment scroll, a normal parchment scroll, appearing in midair and falling to the floor. It looked like any old scroll, complete with a twine bow. Tallywhack looked at Rodney and Rodney looked at Tallywhack and the scroll stayed where it was. Rodney managed to stop George and crawl into the buggy, though Tallywhack didn’t see. Soon, they were both staring down at it, unmoving and unspeaking.
“What is it?” Rodney asked.
“I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Is it a…?”
“I just don’t know, Rod. I… I really don’t know.” They stood in silence a while longer. “I’m gonna pick it up.”
“No, Tally.”
“I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna pick it up.”
“Don’t do it.”
“I’m doing it.” He leaned down and scooped it up. There wasn’t anything unusual about the thing; it felt like any parchment he’d ever touched. “I’m gonna open it.”
“Don’t open it.”
“I’m gonna open it.” He pulled a loose end of the twine knot and slid it off the side. The scroll crackled as he unrolled it, revealing text inside. Written on the top of the page, in big curly letters, was what he assumed to be the title, All Day All Long.
“Well?” Rodney asked, watching over his shoulder. “What’s it say?”
“It’s a song. I don’t recognize it.” Tallywhack’s mind went blank. He looked to Rodney to see him staring back with wide eyes. “What were you saying about songs not-”
“Don’t start with me, Tally, just learn the song.” Rodney crawled back to the driver’s seat, sighing and chuckling.
“Learn the song,” Tallywhack said under his breath. “Huh.”
Later that day, All Day All Long debuted as the number one song in the world.