Thunk

Rhythms

The subtle hiss of a beer bottle cap coming off still reminded him of cymbals.

The fridge closing sounded like the light tap of checking the kick pedal before the drum check began for real.

Rhythm was in his head, always.

When people told him he was a great drummer, he told them he was born that way, and he believed it.

Jack “Smack” Sleeman turned on a football game. He preferred college, you got brief glimpses of the marching band, the band in the stands playing the fight song after touchdowns.

When the screen briefly went black as they cut to commercials, he could see the reflection of his Grammy. 

It always made him laugh. He had only been in the Loose Poodles for five months, but it was the months they recorded their one hit album before disintegrating.

The crack of a rack of pool balls came from the basement.

Colleen was taking pool league seriously, year three, no trophies.