Oh man, so today I was scrusin’ down the street in my hoopty playin’ a sweet g-clef variation with my saXXXXX hanging out the drover side window when some penny-copprt flashes the buzzers on me!
So I pull on over and get out of my ride, playing a fierce rendition of the nightcourt theme which I like to call Night Court (after hours.) It’s a slow burning sensual number that has been known to ruin more than a few third-party relationships.
Well this woman brass gets out of the cruiser swinging her nightstick like she was envious of something. I said, “Hey baby child, why are you bringing the Iron Curtin down on the saXXXXX man?”
Well she ponies on up to me and parts her lipstick reds, “Tom Garcia, don’t you ever go anywhere without that saxophone?”
“Baby…” I let a salacious B-G-A combination slide from my horn, “Do you go anywhere without your tits and ass? I’m the saXXXXX man. My horn is a part of me. Separatin the two would be like one of those painful special episodes from M*A*S*H*.”
I could see that she was pondering my words which were almost as sweet as my notes (which is really saying something), so I whipped up a minor key blues solo in D and before you know it that badge was up above her head and that gun holster was down around her ankles.
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