I can almost remember the words. Blue suede moon, you saw me stepping alone… That’s not it.

The guy in the cage is no help. I call for the song again, but he just babbles something.

“Spin the platter, my man,” I tell him. “It’ll all come back once I hear the first notes.”

At least, I think I say that. All those years on stage, blasting speakers and roaring crowds takes a toll on a man’s hearing.

I cock my hip and shoot the double guns his way; show him I’ve still got it, baby. Something snaps and I stagger against the cage. My leg’s twisted, dangling. Colonel, I could use a hand. Or some brains. Yeah, that’d hit the spot…

I love my wife and I love my kid and I could really go for a peanut butter and brain sandwich right now.