Open mike night

Elmo grabbed the microphone and stared out at the screaming crowd at the smoky cafe. As his eyes scanned for the reassuring gaze of Elma, he began to croon: “Today will be breezy with scattered showers and highs in the middle 60s. Tomorrow will be partly sunny, also in the 60s.” Elma was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a small, dark Rita sporting a Sublime tatoo held his gaze. She was holding a peach soda and a slim cigarette in one hand and keeping the beat against her knee with an Italian dictionary. Much to Elmo’s delight, she winked and mouthed the words: “Me piace i cantante biondi.” “Wow,” thought Elmo. “I can’t wait to finish this set.”