Blues at last

      After reviewing the list of songs, they quickly realized that they were up to their ears in shit. The band would probably start tearing up and throwing now if it weren't for the subconscious desire to go on stage after all. They have not shown their talent for several years, and only tomorrow they will be able to return to the stage on a large scale. And today they need to get money from somewhere. — We don't know any songs... - Elwood sounded a little annoyed. Or maybe with a hidden grudge? In any case, neither he nor his brother tried not to show that something was wrong. All the same perfect black suits, sunglasses with very small scratches that are not noticeable to anyone, and hats that hide slightly curly hair. If you choose which of the bluesmen to invite to a motel for an evening, you will have to paint all the pros and cons for a very long time, consider every detail and try to figure out what is better and what is worse. And you can't do it.   And yet they expressed sufficient calmness until one of the brothers began to boil. And in principle, nothing gave them away, only "high Blues" rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Jake spoke much more irritably than his brother. — Yes, we've never played country music on stage. This is a complete village bottom! I won't sing it! —Hush, Jake. And then there's this one... Bob, who seems to be able to hear. They'll throw us out without letting us play a single chord. Maybe we know at least some country song? We can't leave now. — I don't care if we know or not. I haven't been in prison for three years to sing this... — Elwood did not let him finish, carefully covering his mouth with his palm. The man's plump face fit harmoniously enough on the width of his brother's palm, which made it easy to shut his mouth. When the angry tirade was fully delivered in the hand with the same fervor with which one could shout into the microphone at the whole crowd, the man slightly grinned. Jake has always been a more emotional person, which is why Elwood has become something of a sedative, against which you can not trample. — You know, you're partly right. But we can't just play the blues. They'll kill us if we start playing music they don't want. — Elwood tries to act more circumspectly than usual, however, as it was once said, there are no rules of ethics in him, much less conscience. — Come on, brother, has that ever stopped us? In the end, you yourself will be glad of such a mess. - Elwood wanted to show that he denied what was said, but shrugged and sighed: - it was boring enough without you. It was not interesting to do something alone. — This is evident from your violations. How many were there? Fifty-six and one hundred and twelve? — Fuck off. What are we going to sing? — Will we rehearse our number again? — Okay. - Jake and Elwood turned to the group almost simultaneously. Sometimes it was very funny. The guys complemented each other. Two handsome men, one taller, the other shorter. One is fatter, the other is slimmer. They are opposite to each other and at the same time insanely similar. — "Everybody needs somebody", go ahead, guys. — Jake decides to command, handing his brother a harmonica. The team is already ready, but the "chubby blues" decide to announce them: — Ladies and gentlemen, we are glad to see you here today! And we will play you our best song! But to hell with you all, redneck! We're blues brothers, not cowboy chants on a pile of country-style horse shit. And we'll sing the blues. — so, the first bottles flew. Elwood was unlucky. He got too close, which caused small fragments to immediately leave cuts on his cheeks. Without even wiping off the blood, he brought the harmonica to his lips. — One, two, three, let's go! And they sang and played, while the fragments of bottles smashed on the grate flew into their beautiful faces. Bob tried to turn off the power, but the group was at least a little lucky. The lever is jammed. And no matter how much the man pulled, nothing worked. It would be possible to make a joke out of this, but there is no time for that. But they manage to smile at each other while dancing and bow. And then, grabbing everything they have, they run out into the street. Several packages of beer were thrown into the back seat. The band immediately drove off in another car into the night, while the Blues Brothers moved in the opposite direction. If they are chased, not everyone will be caught. Jake's laugh was always funny and quite nasty. Inside him, the little demons seemed to be laughing, starting something wrong. They seemed to be sitting in his head, joking something vulgar and rubbing their little palms together like flies. Elwood automatically felt funny when he heard that nasty voice. Only his laugh was different. At first it was the same as if he had eaten lemon mixed in a cocktail with pepper, and then loudly, openly. His bass, it seems, could disperse laughter in whole districts with its volume and saturation. — We're doing pretty well. But where to now? The apartment is blown up, we have no money. - Jake wipes the sweat from his forehead, raising his eyebrows slightly questioningly. It seems like they haven't had this much fun in too long. However, after carefully examining his brother's face, he took out a handkerchief, which seemed to have survived, if not the apocalypse, then certainly not the best of times, and stretched out his hand to wipe the bloody streaks on his cheeks, simultaneously checking for fragments. It was lucky that there was only one piece left in the skin, and, as it turned out, it was possible to pull it out with your fingers. — We definitely won't go to the shelter, the penguin will kill us. But we have beer. Lots of beer! We can spend the night in the car or sneak out for a drink. Find the girls in some alley next to a brothel, give them a couple of bottles instead of paying, and give yourself pleasure. It doesn't matter at all. We have done our part. And tomorrow we will sing on stage. — Probably, this is what I missed in prison. It's fun.