Dearest... Darlin' (RIP Burt Bacharach)

 In honor of the passing of the great Burt Bacharach... 

20 years ago (or more, date is unclear), I wrote a short story (to amuse myself mainly) inspired by the great Burt Bacharch/Hal David tune "Twenty Four Hours from Tulsa". My Mum was a huge Gene Pitney fan growing up, so this song was a major part of my universe from birth, basically. And I've always loved it. But it always amused me to think of what it would be like to actually receive a letter like that. 

Anyway, I'm thinking about the great Burt Bacharach who passed today, and how maybe somewhere in that big studio in the sky him and Hal and Gene are getting together to make another hit record. Heavy on the horns. 

I guess my story technically honors Hal David's lyrics but I truly wrote the story with the song playing in my head and the music tells the story too so it's a team effort, like all great Bacharach/David songs. Anyway. Don't think too hard on that.  Have a listen to the song, pour yourself a glass of something sad and sexy, and enjoy. 

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SOMEWHERE IN TULSA…

written by Sharon Penny (circa 2000-ish - 2023 edit)

[Inspired by Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa (Bacharach/David) 1963 ]

I stood on the front porch, staring at the letter in my hand, postmarked Memphis.
I don't know anyone in Memphis. The handwriting on the address looked kind of like Gary's. But why would he be writing to me? He’s coming home in a couple of days. 

Maybe it was a really boring business trip? 
I opened the letter. Hotel stationery from the Peabody Hotel, Memphis. 
And, yes, signed by Gary.

Dearest darling...

Dearest darling? Maybe I opened someone else's mail. I checked the envelope again – nope, that was definitely my name. Are you drunk, Gary? 

Dearest darling, I had to write to say that I won't be home anymore. 

What? We're getting married next week. What do you mean you won't be home?

Cause something happened to me while I was driving home and I'm not the same anymore...

What? A car accident? What the fuck?

I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa, only one day away from your arms.

No, wait, go back to the part where you said you're not the same anymore. You can't skip past that! Ok now I'm worried. And confused. Never coming home? And annoyed. What’s this 'twenty four hours from Tulsa' shit? Just tell me where you are! Isn't it easier to just say you're in Memphis? Why are you being so dramatic?

I saw a welcoming light and stopped to rest for the night, and that's when I saw her.

You saw 'her'? Who did you see? 

As I pulled in outside of a small hotel she was there. 

Did you hit your head and forget how to use pronouns, Gary? WHO IS SHE?!

So I walked up to her, asked where I could get something to eat and she showed me where. 

Still no idea who ‘she’ is. Seriously Gary, what the fuck? This shit reads like a Days Of Our Lives ‘Dear John’ letter. I don't understand what...Oh. Wait. "Dear John letter." Oh my god jesus I’m so stupid, of course that’s what this is. 
WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. 

Seriously Gary, go fuck yourself. 

I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa, only one day away from your arms.

You really are serious. You're trying to tell me that that you were almost home and now...what? You're staying? Because this, this, TOUR GUIDE showed you where to get something to eat? You’re killing me.  

She took me to a cafe; I asked her if she would stay. She said “OK”. 

You low-down cowardly cold-feet-having motherfucker. It must be such a lonely existence when you've been on the road for all of, what, two days? You're supposed to be on your way home your fiancée FOR YOUR WEDDING. Nice breakup Gary. Great job. No notes. 

 
I was only twenty four hours from Tulsa- 

Okay now you're being passive-aggressive. 

Oh the jukebox started to play, and nighttime turned into day. 

As we were dancing closely all of a sudden I lost control as I held her charms

So… you blew your top slow-dancing with a tour guide?  Of her many, yet unnamed 'charms', which ones exactly did you hold, Gary? I'd love to know.

And I caressed her, kissed her, told her I'd die before I let her out of my arms. 

I'm sorry what?
Who the fuck is this woman? Jesus, Gary, I get it, you got cold feet. Just say that. But what's all this you'll “die” before you let her out of your arms? Why? Because she showed you where to get a decent meal? This letter makes no goddamned sense.

I was only twenty four hours -

Shut the fuck up, Gary.

I hate to do this to you but I love somebody new. What can I do?

‘I hate to to this to you’? 'What can I do?' Please. Blow it out your fucking ass, Gary. Don't act like you're sorry. You're loving every second of this you fucking drama-queen. Anyway how can you be sorry when you haven’t technically told me anything. This whole stupid letter is nothing but subtext! 
“Sorry for avoiding the subject altogether anyway I met a tour guide BYEEEE”

And I can never, never come home again. 

Yeah no shit you can’t come home. I wouldn't let you in the house even if you tried. Also, you broke up with me BY WRITING ME A LETTER? You're too much of a coward to call and tell me. It’s just so mundane, that’s what really pisses me off. I mean, at least fake your death or do something crazy. But nooooo. Instead I get your weird passive-aggressive cryptic crossword letter. You're an asshole, Gary. I can't believe I ever wanted to marry you. 
FUCK you and FUCK your letter. I would rather spend the rest of my life under the misapprehension that you were eaten by wolves than to know that you were twenty four hours from Tulsa drooling on a fucking jumped-up tour guide. 

Rot in hell, Gary.

THE END