Read Online Featherless Bipeds by Richard Scarsbrook - Free Book Online Page A

I’ve got it!”
    Jimmy T rolls his eyes. “Is this one from history, too ?”
    â€œWell, um, yes .”
    â€œDo we get to hear another lecture ?”
    â€œWell . . . ”
    â€œGo on, “ says Tristan, always the reasonable one.
    â€œLet’s hear it, Sifter,” Lola says.
    I clear my throat.
    â€œOkay. In ancient Greece, Socrates was teaching his students about classification.”
    â€œSockra tease? Sounds kinda kinky!” says Jimmy, reaching towards one of Lola’s breasts. She intercepts his hand with a slap.
    â€œ Socrates , the Greek philosopher. He was teaching his students about classification . . . you know, Homo Sapiens , genus and species, that sort of thing. Anyway, he asked his students to try to classify human beings. One student suggested ‘featherless bipeds’, since human beings have no feathers, and they walk on two feet.”
    Nobody interrupts with an objection or sarcastic comment. Amazing. I continue.
    â€œSo Socrates walked out, and came back with a plucked chicken. He dropped it on the floor in front of the student and said, ‘Try again.’”
    Silence. I hold my breath for the inevitable put-downs.
    â€œ Featherless Bipeds ,” Tristan says. “I like it!”
    â€œMe too,” Lola says.
    â€œIt’s okay, I guess,” Akim wavers.
    Suzy walks over and leans on the table.
    â€œThat’s it, kids. We’re closed.”
    We all look at Jimmy T. For a moment his face is expressionless, a wax museum cast of himself. Then he begins to nod. Unconsciously, the rest of us do the same.
    â€œYeah. Yeah! Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhh!” Jimmy T cries.“The Featherless Bipeds ! Y’know, it’s got a good ring to it. Socrates kicks ass !”

Dancing in a Room of Millions
    Lyrics — D. Sifter, Music — A. Ganges, T. Low, D. Sifter
(From the album Socrates Kicks Ass! recorded by The Featherless Bipeds)
    Turn off that light behind your eyes
    that blinds me to the line between us
    Shut down that wily way that you betray your feelings
    while revealing nothing real about us
    Turn on that fiery charm that drew me to you like a moth
    Turn up that feminine mystique
    Rev up those engines, spin the blades of the propeller
    Let my destruction be complete
    It’s like we’re dancing in a room of millions
    But it’s just only you and me
    It’s like we’re dancing in an endless desert
    And the only space is in between
    You and me
    Stoke up that fire that burns me to an ember
    At least reminds me I can feel
    Just turn that key that’s always been in this ignition
    If you’re the engine, I’m the wheels
    Unleash that lightning, pound my ears with thunder
    But don’t withhold that cooling rain
    The crash is coming, we can’t avoid this collision
    A single track between these trains
    It’s like we’re dancing in a room of millions
    But it’s just only you and me
    It’s like we’re dancing in an endless desert
    But the only space is in between
    You and me

T HE C ROSSROADS
    T he morning after our first performance at Harlock’s, Jimmy T summons us all to his downtown apartment to discuss the band’s future. Tristan wheels his old Ford Escort up to the curb in front of a tower of gold glass, and Akim, wedged into the back seat, wonders if Tristan hasn’t maybe written down the wrong address. A uniformed valet hurries out to the car.
    â€œFriends of Master Tanner?” the valet asks.
    We all nod dumbly (even Akim).
    â€œAllow me to park your car, sir,” the valet says to Tristan. “Serge at the front desk will escort you to Master Tanner’s suite.”
    â€œGood thing his last name isn’t ‘Bates’,” Akim quips.
    We unfold ourselves from inside the tiny car. Tristan hands his keys to the valet. “The jumper cables are under the back seat,” he says.
    Serge takes us to Jimmy T’s suite, the entire