David’s Daily Digital Dollop: Dollop 89 – You’ve Got To Take Your Medicine Bob

Download the audio version of today’s Dollop here

I’m writing today’s Dollop in the eating area of the hotel. Our flight isn’t until 9pm, and although we had to check out of our rooms by 10am, they have allowed me to stay in this area until we need to leave. I’m not sure whether that invitation will still stand once I start reading out the audio version of the Dollop. There are people eating around me, and so I’m going to have to make sure that this Dollop is completely family friendly, as I don’t want to be turfed out onto the streets by the hotel staff for putting all their customers off eating because I’m audibly discussing vegan porn stars or pissing dog-ladies. Oops. OK, from now on I’ll keep it family friendly. I’m going to have to read those words out now. There is a devilish part of me that wants to write something really inappropriate, knowing that I’ll then be forced to read it out loud, but I must control the demon inside me. Wanker. No, stop it! Arsehole. No, don’t make me say these things, there are people eating! Shit, cock. No, demon, begone! I am an idiot. I am going to have to read that out now. I could delete it and start this Dollop again, but if I do that then I might get halfway through, only for my laptop battery to run out, thus making me fail the challenge.

The song currently playing in the hotel seems to entirely consist of a man singing, “you’ve got to take your medicine, we’ve got to take our medicine, I’ve got to take my medicine,” repeated over and over again, with the occasional “yeah yeah yeah.” I wonder how songs such as this ever get made.

“So, thanks for popping into the radio station and talking with me today. Now, I’ve got to ask you this. Your song about the medicine. How do you possibly come up with such powerful lyrics?”

“Well, there’s quite a story attached to that song. I was visiting my father in hospital and a nurse came to him and said, “you’ve got to take your medicine, Bob.” Bob is my father’s name you see, hence why she said Bob. Anyway, I turned to the nurse and I said, “what did you just say?” and she said, “I said, you’ve got to take your medicine Bob.” At which point I sprang to my feet and embraced the nurse, thanking her for providing me with the inspiration for my next sure-fire hit. I then immediately wrote it down. “You’ve got to take your medicine Bob,” I wrote. I excitedly passed the piece of paper to the nurse, and watched her as she read those words: “you’ve got to take your medicine Bob.” She didn’t seem as moved or as interested as I was expecting, but I guess she’d had a long shift and was just feeling really tired. She passed the paper back to me and walked off, seeming nonplussed, baring what had just happened.

Unfortunately, all of this had completely distracted the nurse from her originally intended reason for coming to us in the first place, which of course was to give my dad his medicine. Sadly this resulted in him dying later that day. However, before he slipped away we had an emotional moment where I sang him the first draft of my song. “You’ve got to take your medicine Bob, you’ve got to take your medicine bob, you’ve got to take your medicine Bob.” The nurse overheard my song and came sprinting towards my dad’s bed. “Shit,” she said, “I forgot to give him his medicine.” But it was too late, for in that moment he died.

Two really amazing things happened as a result of that incident. I was able to sou the nurse for negligence, and my dad left me a small fortune in his will. I was able to use the money from the nurse and my dad in order to buy a recording studio in which I recorded my sure-fire hit all about my dad needing to take his medicine. Looking back on that moment, it’s as if it was meant to be, you know? As if fate had predestined that event to happen.

Obviously, being a professional songwriter, I knew that the song needed to involve more than just “you’ve got to take your medicine Bob.” It took days of painstaking work to get the song perfect, in fact, I had to miss my dad’s funeral because I was just too busy writing. The first thing I thought was, “we need to lose the Bob, because it’s not scanning properly.” I then thought that just singing “you’ve got to take your medicine” over and over again was a bit bland. I was at a complete loss over what to do. These things take time and concentration to make happen. But then, I had a dream, and it came to me: “you’ve got to take your medicine, we’ve got to take our medicine, I’ve got to take my medicine.” I woke up in a cold sweat. I needed to write it down before I forgot it. I jumped out of bed and searched feverishly for a pen, all the while singing, “you’ve got to take your medicine, we’ve got to take our medicine, I’ve got to take my medicine” over and over again, fearing that I might forget this moment of divine inspiration. Eventually I found a pen and wrote it down. But I felt there was still something missing. But what? The song was almost there, so nearly perfect. But there was something.

It took another couple of weeks for inspiration to reach me. Again, it came in the form of a dream. “you’ve got to take your medicine, we’ve got to take our medicine, I’ve got to take my medicine, yeah yeah yeah.” Again, I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart racing. I jumped out of bed. Where was the damn pen. Eventually I found it, and added the final bit to the song: “yeah yeah yeah” I wrote, my hands shaking with excitement. I read it through, over and over again. It was perfect. I immediately went into my recording studio and laid down a vocal track. I listened to it back on loop, over and over again, sobbing, just so overcome with emotion. And that, my friends, is the story of that song that we all know and love today, and I want to dedicate it to my dad, who’s death made the song possible. His death brought that song to life, and in many ways, my dad lives on through that song.”

The song seems to literally just consist of a man singing those same words over and over again. Then again, I’ve kind of done a similar thing with today’s Dollop, essentially stretching out the same single point for over a thousand words, except I haven’t made any money from it. On the other hand, at least I haven’t killed anyone or got them the sack by writing this Dollop, unless the hotel receptionist who let me stay, is fired because I’ve scared away all of their potential diners by talking to myself, and calling myself a wanker and an arsehole. Oops.

This is my final Dollop from Australia, not that I’ve really mentioned anything about Australia in this Dollop. Tomorrow I shall be back home. As an extra special treat for putting up with my ramblings from Australia, I’ll head straight to Sainsbury’s as soon as I get home and have a conversation with the shop assistant. That’s what you want from these Dollops, isn’t it?

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