"I cannot do the act as the World's Only Singing Bird one more time," thought Henry. I cannot face another audience! Every day's an endless stream of cigarettes and magazines ..."
"Get up and get yourself together!" barked Henry's manager, Herbert Cohen. "The audience is depending upon you."
Cohen shoved Henry onstage with his guitar. Near feverish with booze and exhaustion, Henry gazed through the wire mesh fence into the audience of calico, Siamese, and alley cats, all licking their chops.
"If only I could perform in front of an audience of humans," muttered Henry, "instead of this damn social media world of cats!"
Yes, Henry tawt he taw a puddy tat and he did, he did taw a puddy tat! A whole audience full of them too. True, Henry has a lot of fans, but most of them are fans of his flavor, not his musical favorings.
Henry hitting the bottom is what I saw this week in the picture prompt above as part of the Friday Fictioneers Weekly Traveling Variety Show & Concert. Offerings of the other Friday Fictioneers are available by buying your ticket, taking your seat, and clicking here.
Good for Henry, he made it through another performance. No, Henry, don't give autographs!