I'd Rather Be Sorry

Almost all of the studio musicians Korn had contacted and convinced to enhance my session were, complimentary, from Sherwin Linton's Band. With his arm around my shoulder, Korn glibly asserted, "Meet Dottie Lou." and enthusiastically went over a friendly line-up of introducing all the guys who would be working for me on the session.

"Dave Knight will be doin' the honors on steel and Jerry Hermis," I shook their hands. "Plays a mean, mean lead guitar. He's just as sharp on the guitar as that goatee he sports."

My attention slipped to the thin dark mustache supporting his upper lip, with the ends hardly the thickness of a farmers match, curled up, very stiff and uniform, perhaps waxed.

"And Dottie," Korn continued, "Meet Tom Jung, our engineer. One of the very best. He and I will work together on sound and levels. Our youngster here, still discovering babes is Mike Grunke. What he doesn't yet know about chicks, he makes up for that with his talent on the "pots and pans". He's our drummer. I'll play rhythm, of course, and obviously, our party straffer pal, Dick will--"

"Oh yeah." I interrupted and winked with inside percipence. "Yes, I already know our Dickie-Poo Bass pickin' Buddy."

We harnessed a grueling eight hour session, recording nine songs, until most of the musicians had to hurry away for an evening gig with the Sherwin Linton Show at the Flame, downtown Minneapolis. Some were a little extra happy from frequent visits to a yumm--refreshing, stimulating cooler I had deliberately improvised for medicinal help to sustain stamina! Ahem!

Korn and I stopped off at the Flame to catch the first set of Sherwins Show, before heading back to Duluth, and to thank him for loaning us his talented musicians, their having

rendered my Sound 80 session a success.

* * *

Korn pushed past me, leaving Shirley behind in the middle of a sentence, so she turned to me with an amiable "Hi". "He's ignoring me tonight." she gibbered.

"Who?"

"Korn. Who else?"

"He's probably not ignoring you on purpose." I defended his behavior. "I'm sure he must have something on his mind demanding his immediate attention."

Shirley followed me to the Ladies Lounge. As we waited our turns for the busy stalls, we exchanged frivolous idle chitchat.

"It's funny how they ignore you the night after." She diplomatically divulged, unabashed.

"You mean Korn?"

"Yeah, Korn. Last night I called him, here, from home on his break. God, was I horney!! So horney I would have honked if someone touched me."

We both snickered.

"I told him how I needed him SO BAD, that I could hardly sit on IT!!"

"Nah, Shirley. You're puttin' the shuck on me!" I tittered.

"Hell No! Christ, I was really hurtin', that squeezin' throbbin' feelin'. You know what I mean? Well anyway," Shirley continued, "Korn told me to come and park behind the Gopher and wait for him 'til after he was done playin' for the night. He told me not to wear a lot of clothes. Dress scanty, he said, so we don't have to waste a lot of time and then he-------"

***

The tables for the fete were richly set in white linen with matching cloth napkins. Candles and many lavish bouquets of flowers adorned each table. Placed beside the top rim of each plate were three stemmed wine glasses of variable height and size.

"Boy, they must think we're mighty thirsty!" Kenny tittered.

"We are!" Sylvia giggled.

"This is France. When in France