An Unexpected Vir(tu)al Party

[Envinyatar]

As the song came to a close, Envinyatar smiled and clapped his hands. “That’s old Jack Pryne!” He laughed at first, glad to hear the old balladeer’s song. “But wait,” he went on, his brow furrowing in disbelief and sadness. “Surely you can’t mean that he’s left us?” He pulled up a chair and sat facing Arry and Pio. “Envinyatar,” he said, nodding at the other man as he sat down. “Pleased to meet a friend of Pio,” he went on, extending his arm. Arry returned the greeting, grasping the other man’s offered hand.

“I traveled with him a couple of times,” Envinyatar continued. “What an easy guy to be with on those long dusty roads between little towns here and there.” He nodded his head and smiled at the memories. “Sometimes we’d stay in some farmer’s cow shed. Jack’d pay for our supper with songs and stories that’d set the farmer roaring with laughter. For my part, I split and stacked firewood for the farmer’s good-wife.” Envinyatar rubbed the back of his neck, and chuckled. “Jack always said I carried that firewood far better than I ever carried a tune! He did like my stories, though, of the places I’d been and the people I met. Later on down the road for us, I’d find he’d taken those very same stories and made them into songs.” A quiet pause in conversation ensued as the companions savored the picture their thoughts had painted for them.

“Say, how ‘bout I get us another round of drinks?” Envinyatar offered, breaking the pleasant silence. “And I know just the ones. Four Handsome Johnnys – one each for us and one for our old friend.” He heard the rasping sound of the Wyrm clearing her throat. “Make that five,” he corrected.

“And just what is this ‘Handsome Johnny’?” the Wyrm inquired, raising her brows.

Envinyatar laughed as he recalled Jack’s favored libation. “Why it’s gingered ale and a clear spirit from the far eastern country – vodka, I think it’s called. Goes down real smooth. Got a kick to it, though, if you drink too many.” He waved over a passing server and placed the table’s order.

As they waited for the return of their drinks, he tapped the guitar as it rested on Arry’s leg. “Let’s hear another of Jack’s tunes.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “How about that one about this goofy old world? That's a good one!”

Humming, just a bit off key, the beginning of the tune, he recalled the opening words of the song.
Up in the morning
Work like a dog
Is better than sitting
Like a bump on a log...