Bohemian
by
Tony Fogarty
copyright all rights reserved 1992
'.......Baby you're a fool to cry.....", The voice of Mick Jagger gradually faded away, to be replaced by the deep resonant voice of the announcer.
"It's twenty three minutes past ten on Northwest Radio, Gary O'Brien playing your music tonight. Here's the song that really launched Queen into the ultra big time back in '76, the late Freddy Mercury up front and six and a half minutes of Bohemian Rhapsody."The red light went off and the announcer continued to himself, "And six and a half minutes for me to get a coffee, have a wet , and have a smoke outside."
He pushed the seat back and stretched out his six foot frame. He groaned at the pleasure and pain of cramped muscles disengaging themselves as he forced his legs out and pushed his hands over his head. After an hour and a half behind the "on-air" console of the small provincial radio station, he needed a break.
"Mama, just killed a man...", O'Brien sang along with the song. He continued to sing as he stood up and walked out of the studio into a small kitchenette. He filled an electric jug and switched it on. He then grabbed a mug with his name emblazoned across it. That, plus the fact he never washed it, ensured his mug would always be where he left it. He put coffee, sugar and milk into it and left it on the draining board of the half size sink.
He gazed around the room, it was rather cramped with a table and two chairs and cupboards along one wall. On another wall was a staff notice board crammed with scraps of paper, a photograph, a couple of actual notices and a cartoon. He smiled at a charactiture of himself. "Not even close." He shook his head and headed for the door.
The cartoon depicted him as an Italian, in a Mafia style suit with a violin case and concrete shoes, with a thinly disguised reference to his inability to dance. O'Brien wasn't Italian. He had a tanned complexion and plenty of dark hair on his head. Bushy eyebrows over his warm, hazel eyes and a Zappata style moustache over a pair of full, sensual lips created the initial impression. With a relatively hairy chest, and the name 'Tony', everyone assumed he was of the Mediterranean. He used 'Gary' on-air, but it didn't help. He was in fact Irish, his forebears being from Dublin going back as far as the Fenians according to his late grandmother.
"I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche will you do the Fandango......." The band sang on.
O'Brien went out onto a porch from the kitchenette where he lit a cigarette. He leaned on an upright and pushed a lungful of smoke into the cool night air. A breeze came from behind him, generated by the station air conditioning, from behind the door that was slowly closing behind him.
"Magnifico, oh, oh, oh -"The sound from the studio was suddenly subdued. Then, the metallic click of the lock engaging alerted O'Brien. He spun around. Too late. "Oh, oh, oh shit !" He pushed against the door but it was firm. His keys were in the studio and all the other doors to the outside world were locked. As he worked alone on this shift, he had problems.
"I'm just a poor boy, from a poor family .....", lamented Freddie Mercury.
"Talk about it hitting the fan", O'Brien said to Freddie.
He raced around the building looking for an errant window. Fortunately, he found one. Unfortunately, it was the toilet window. It was high up the wall and not very large, but it was all he had.
He dragged a nearby wheeled bin over and pushed it under the window. He gingerly climbed onto the bin and pulled at the window frame so it was fully open. He could here music coming from the studio.
"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye....."
He ducked his head and arms under the cantilevered window and into the toilet. It was pitch black. He put his weight onto the sill and leaned further into the toilet. He then reached down with his left hand and felt the top of the cistern. It felt secure so he leaned in further. His knees rested on the sill and his upper body hung upside down above the cistern. He reached further with his right hand and felt the toilet seat.
O'Brien now pushed with his knees and as he moved his left hand from the cistern to the seat, he slipped. His knees slid over the sill. He couldn't maintain his balance, nor the sudden weight of his body on one hand. With a muffled cry, he slipped head first into the toilet bowl.
"Nothing really matters, anyone can see,
nothing really matters to me..................
...............anyway the wind blows"
Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht. Ssssht.
THE END
Bohemian Rhapsody written by Freddy Mercury, 1975 and performed by 'Queen'