The Ballad of mcpelandio

Say it slow. Say it fast. Either way, you’re already smiling. Would you like this adapted into a poem, a song lyric, or a different tone (e.g., sci-fi, melancholy, humorous)?

mcpelandio.

On the diner’s napkin, he’d written: “The world doesn’t need more sense. It needs more curious noise. Keep humming.” And under that, his name again, just because it felt good to say out loud.

He showed up in town on a Tuesday, when the rain had turned Main Street into a mirror. In his left hand: a dented suitcase. In his right: a harmonica that only played three correct notes. The fourth note—always a half-step too high—was his signature.

“mcpelandio,” he said, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.