Music Club XVII

Mr Flinch: Unless your composition’s in an invisible folder, get out and don’t come back

Justin: Please don’t chuck me out. I know I’ve been slacking on the deadlines, but I’ll catch up. Starting now.

Mr Flinch: It’s not just the deadlines, Justin. When you started with me, you were one of the most talented, enthusiastic musicians I’d ever taught. You’re still talented, but it’s a long time since I saw any enthusiasm.

Justin: I have enthusiasm. I have so much enthusiasm it hurts to sit down.

Mr Flinch: It’s too late. I’ve only kept you on this long cos I hoped you’d snap out of your...stupor.

Justin: There’s no stupor. I’ve just been...busy.

Mr Flinch: Yes, busy doing everything non-musical. You don’t even come to the music club anymore. You used to thrive there. Now Dom’s the best I have.

Justin: That’s cos...I have my own music club. We discuss albums and stuff.

Mr Flinch: Listening to pop songs with your mates isn’t exactly what I had in mind

Justin: Not just pop songs. All sorts...and we play too. Bull plays the tuba.

Mr Flinch: Bull?

Justin: He hosts the club...in his basement. It’s soundproofed. So that’s why I fell behind, but I’m all ready to catch up now.

Mr Flinch: Justin, stop lying to me. You’ve never mentioned this before.

Justin: If you don’t believe me, come to the club. I’ll show you.