Flash Fiction: Mahalo Sam

He had not been expecting a letter. In fact, he hadn't really given it much thought since he sent in the tape. The whole thing was so random anyway.

The swells were epic that day and he had been trying out a new longboard. Surfing was his true passion. Music was just a fun pastime. He sent in the tape as a goof.

He was trying to do the math. It had to be about 6 weeks ago. That's why it had slipped his mind. Maybe if it was more important to him, he would have remembered. Should he consider the fact that he forgot an omen? Well, omen may be too ominous. Could it be a sign? He needed to think straight, he didn't want to overreact. It may even be a bad prank... But he knew it was legit. He had to calmly consider whether he wanted to pursue this. It could be a very big deal. The course of his life could change dramatically; but did he want that?

Teaching surfing during the day and bartending at night was a good gig. After riding the waves all day, his friends would build a giant bonfire on the surf and hang out. When he wasn't slinging drinks he usually joined them. Sometimes the conversation drifted to the philosophical and even into the realm of the metaphysical. Surfing has a way of doing that to people. As the stars burned brighter in the sky some of the guys would pull out their guitars. His was a beat up old Fender from the local pawn shop. An informal and not very good jam session followed. Accomplished surfers, nobody had much musical talent; it was just a relaxing way to unwind and rehash the joys of the day.

They made up silly or even deeply personal lyrics and sang off-key. One guy was okay on a wooden flute and another was fairly decent on the ukulele. It was a time for community, for bonding. The vibe was always good and the friends were even better. Aside from being on the water, this was what really mattered. It was a simple and deeply rewarding life.

And then the letter...

Yeah, it was about 2 months ago when an interesting kid named Sam showed up to learn how to surf. The guy was totally uncoordinated but what he lacked in physical ability he made up for in enthusiasm. The kid ate it all day, but something about his determination was moving. No amount of instruction would help, but Sam had the heart of a champion. Touched by the kid's gumption, he remembered inviting Sam to what they laughingly called the 'sing-a-long.' Sam kept quiet and tried to blend in. His easy manner was endearing and the experienced surfers began weaving tall tales, enjoying a new audience member. Eyes wide, Sam soaked in the fun. And when the singing commenced, Sam was riveted.

He remembered launching into one of his newest songs, a twisted blend of love and forgiveness; laid-back vocals set to a mellow tune. He had been turning the phrases in his mind for days, and they just tumbled out as he strummed. After a few stanzas, some of the others joined in. The guys began making up silly rhymes and morphing the song into something unrecognizable. Another guy started up a street beat and a progressive rap-type sing-along ensued.

Sam sheepishly asked if he could come back the next night. He promised to stay out of the way, but he wanted to bring a tape recorder. Apparently Sam was genuinely impressed. He recalls Sam saying something about raw talent and a fresh new sound, and other accolades that bounced off. But Sam had a sweet excitement that was impossible to resist.

The next night everyone was in good form. The waves were particularly good that day and the energy was decidedly positive. It was hard to imagine a greater sense of satisfaction. As expected, little Sam showed up toting a tape recorder. He remembered singing a few songs himself, nothing noteworthy. He vaguely recalled that Sam asked him to sing the same song from the previous evening, and seemed to be taping him. At the end of the night, Sam handed him the tape along with his Dad's business card. Wow, Sam's Dad was a biggie at a major record label. Sam asked him to consider sending the tape to the address on the card, that his Dad would be expecting it. Not wanting to push, Sam gently urged him to follow through. So he sent it the next day. He didn't even listen to it first, just sent it on a whim.

And now he had this letter with an invitation to cut a real demo tape.