When Freedom Sings

A misty shower tapped the restaurant’s roof sending a heavenly musical message down to the indoor performance stage, “I am Nanugalimas,” the singer finished his set, ending a very entertaining evening, “do not forget to tip the wait staff.”

Smiling holding a beverage, Apple Freeman, a prominent barfly whose voice made him a local legend remembered Nanugalimas’ Father and his rocking style keeping the apathetic scene enthusiastic, despite the dark under mining atmosphere, “Just like your father,” Apple chuckled, “can I get you a drink, Nanu,”

“Water please,” the maturing adult requested.

“Coming right up,” the bartender answered.

“Your Dad was something,”

“Then he met the lovely Billie Jean,” Nanugalimas recounted facts due to the numerous times Apple, a reliable encyclopedia, told the story.

“Your grandparents, Nanu, came here and gave this country much strength during our hour of need,” Apple repeated the legendary unwritten history, for the millionth time.

A few generations ago, a British Lady and French gentlemen escaped possible daily death sentences, escaping a horrific reality, putting down stakes inside a peaceful occupied outpost, where the bombs and gunfire retired following a civil surrender. Despite the powerful suppressive attitude bringing everyone down, their publicly displayed love, combatted the walking dead lifestyle, energizing neighborhoods.

When the world war finally ended, their home countries offered a welcome mat, but the upbeat pair decided taking a stance, staying, despite the rival’s guarded fantasy’s tight grip. Years passed and along came a blonde headed infant who grew up flaunting flowing hair until one night the photogenic image found itself terrorized, when invading guests lured her into a situation where the style was butchered, influencing the innocent impressible character, ‘This was the look’.

A strong backbone carried the youthful individual and reaching the rural cottage her parents were shocked to see the new appearance, “They thought they fooled me,” the adult minded adolescent immediately told her parental guiders, “But a few more snips. I am going to look invincible, and they will regret their diabolical scheme.”

“Billie Jean,” the mother pressed hands towards her lips, “you know we were going to nickname you goldilocks.”

“But I am Billie Jean,” the independent spirit announced, “and I am invincible.”

This new image turned heads around town and while dancing inside the club, the house band drummer noticed the luring tease. Marriage soon followed and the talented watchdog percussionist’s last name would continue with Nanugalimas arrival.

“Your Dad, could of went very far playing France and England,”

“But he met my mother, then took an industry job, to be with her,”

“A radio station, DJ,” Apple continued, “and on that tragic Halloween Night.”

“He told a campfire story, kindling flames and started a wildfire,” Nanugalimas added.

“An alien invasion and the fictional production that irked the overbearing guerrillas, so much they attacked the radio station, not realizing your father was prepared,”

“Giving his life so we could all be free,” Nanugalimas took a final swig, from the glass.

“And he kept the turntable going with the audio mike open, so all could hear,” Apple’s traditional amazing facial expression put the tale into perspective.

“The alien invasion fought back liberating the people,” Nanugalimas tapped his friend on the shoulder, “have to get home, Mother has her show over at the sporting complex, tomorrow.”

“You all never stop singing,”

“We are invincible,” Nanugalimas responded, heading out the door.

Roosters crowed acknowledging daylight and Nanugalimas heard a scream, opening his eyes, “it is very early,”

“I said are you up yet?” The Motherly question bounced off the walls.

“Last night, I spent with this plug in my ear with someone telling me what to do,” Nanugalimas exclaimed stumbling out the bedroom door into the kitchen seeing his mother wearing a traditional cultural costume.

“I have my annual song celebration performance down at the sporting stadium,” Billie Jean announced.

“That is right,” Nanugalimas started waking up, grabbing a fruit lying around patiently.

“Are you playing down at the club? Tonight, “Billie Jean investigated.

“No,” Nanugalimas told her, “Why?”

“I was thinking you could join me and attend the song celebration,” Billie Jean requested, “you know you are your father’s size, and I still have his outfit.”

“He wore one of those?” Nanugalimas replied.

“Guys will do anything to steal a girl’s heart,”

“Then I will have to steal yours, Mom,” Nanugalimas agreed.

Fighting off, sprinkling rain the two found themselves in their assigned spots, “I am glad I brought my barn shoes,” Billie Jean acknowledged, “the athletic tournament was here last week, and the competitive mudslinging got way out of hand.”

Once the bad weather tapered off, the sun started setting, unveiling an emerald island colorful gifted arc, “Mom I think we are going to get lucky tonight.”

“It’s Dad’s work,” Billie Jean noted.

“Was Dad Irish?”

“How do you think you got that routine gig at the Mick Over the Moon Pub,”

Laughing Nanugalimas escorted Billie Jean onto the field and the music played, giving the audience, an applauding opportunity.

When the evening got late, the finale commanded attention and upon conclusion the announcer sounding much like Apple Freeman, surprised the supportive contingent, “I hope everyone had a wonderful time, but I have to admit I made a wish to the rainbow, and I hope it will come true.”

Silence engulfed the scene, and the public address system returned, “could Billie Jean and Nanugalimas come to the main platform, I would love to hear a duet.”

“Did you know about this?” Nanugalimas asked, watching his mother shrug her shoulders.

“You will learn, son, a girl will do wild things when she is with the guy she loves.”

With the spotlight illumined and the audio perfect Billie Jean joined Nanugalimas belting out the family anthem, “Invincible”. Reminding the masses, how they protected their pride and identity that made them, who they are, standing ground, not relinquishing an inch.