It’s January 2nd and it’s 1978 – New Year’s Happened and you had a blast. You went to every party you knew about and some you didn’t know about, but crashed anyway. You were on fire. You have arrived. You have more phone numbers than you know what to do with. If it was this good over New Years, can you imagine what Summer is going to be like? You’re the man – you’re it – you’ve got it goin’ ON.
However, you’re confused. You’ve been spending a good chunk of the morning “sleeping off” the festivities. But after a few cups of coffee you start calling those numbers you got. A lot of them seem to be wrong or don’t go anywhere – the people who do answer don’t know who you’re asking for. Some are wrong numbers in other cities – a few are to things like The Weather and The Time of Day. By the time you finish with what looked like a small mountain of scraps of scribbled paper, none of those phone numbers are to anyone you met at all the parties you went to; not a single one.
You ask your friends – some of them aren’t talking to you – a few scream with laughter and hang up. A couple say “you were something else” and change the subject. You’re starting to wonder what happened.
You “kind of” remember a few things, but they get fuzzy and jumbled together. You know your jaw hurts and you can’t seem to find your clothes. You look out your bedroom window and see your car in the driveway – it looks lumpy and the front fender is missing. There are no hubcaps and one of the tires is flat.
You go back to bed and turn on your radio. BMR fills the air. And that’s a good thing.
Here is a little under 2 hours of B. Mitchel Reed exactly as he was heard on January 2, 1978, weird morning after or not.
Editors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.