I was in the big chair perusing some collected works by Lord Byron,
when I began to doze into a semi-unconsciousness.  My wife had the
laptop and was perusing some collected works by Barry Manilow.  She
began to listen to them, one after another.  When I awoke, the seeds
of iniquity had been planted within.  For no reason I began to hum
and sing Barry Manilow songs.

My son asked me what it was I was singing.  "Uh... Metallica."  I replied.

"That's not Metallica."  He retorted.  "That's... Barry Manilow!
Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h!!!  You Freak!!!"

Now I write, in hopes of releasing my demon...

(Written to the tune, "Somewhere in the night.")

"I weep ...when the music comes
And I'll die when I start speakin'.
The demon smiles, it has me in such plight
Like a bad secret I've been keepin'..."

"Demon inside me, dread is the feeling
Why did she open this door?  Torture me!
Somewhere in the night, I must sing
Oh what a horrible thing."

"Barry's song, music too tragic to mend
I'll sing it over and over again.
Music so wrong, I am uptight
Clinching my fist and feeling contrite."

"I'll just go on feelin' spite
For Somewhere in the night."
.
.
.
"I'll just go on feelin' spite
For Somewhere in the night."
.
.
.
"Wish I could sing Barry White
Instead of Somewhere in the night."
.
.
.
"SOMEWHERE IN THE NIGHT!!!"

Drum roll
"Oh no."

Music comes to a crescendo
"Please not that."

Barry Manilow is playing his piano on stage
"OMG!!!"

He looks over and smiles at me
"I'm so fucked!"

I am in the front row, hands over my head
"Don't do this."

Swaying back and forth to the beat of the music
"NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!!!"
.
.
.
"Just go on and take my life
Over Somewhere in the night."
.
.
.
"Damn you, Barry Manilow!!!"