Allusion (ə-ˈlü-zhən):[1] A reference/representation of/to a well-known person, place, event, literary work, or work of art . . . “a brief reference, explicit or indirect, to a person, place or event, or to another literary work or passage”. It is left to the reader or hearer to make the connection . . . ; an overt allusion is a misnomer for what is simply a reference.[2]
Summer was here and the time was right for dancin’ in the street—I believed it. I would find a way to dance in the street. Although I did not live in any of the cities catalogued by Martha and the Vandellas in their overview of where to dance in the street, I felt that my home town, Malarky, New Jersey would work. It was founded by Irish immigrants in the 1920’s. They worked in the cranberry bogs. Malarky holds a cranberry gala every summer. It is pretty tame. Vendors line the Main Street (Ocean Spray Avenue) selling cranberry-themed wares: cranberry jelly, cranberry wine, cranberry beef patties, cranberry and popcorn Christmas tree strings, cranberry cologne, cranberry car fresheners, etc. The big excitement was kids shooting people with their slingshots loaded with cranberries. But, that is about to change.
I got a cultural grant for $85.00 from the State of New Jersey to bring Martha and the Vandellas to Malarky for a reprise of “Dancing in the Streets” to get the residents of Malarky dancing in the street, inspired by the singing. My buddy Jerry set it all up. However, he found out that Martha was booked all summer at state fairs all over America, but there was a tribute band, Margo and the Vans, who were willing to perform cheap. They would sing the song for $200.00.
When I met them at the bus station, I was shocked by how old they were. Margo had a walker and the Vans weren’t far behind. One of them rode over my foot with her wheelchair. But, they said they were up to the task—that they could sing like ringin’ a bell. Margo was clearly high on something, but I let it slide.
The bandstand was built and the day came. I introduced the group to the modest-sized audience. Margo walked up to the mike and fell over dead. I yelled to the audience, “Don’t fear the reaper.” They panicked anyway. Margo was bleeding! She had been assassinated. There was a guy in leg braces with two canes that looked like an ancient Chubby Checker. He was going as fast as he could up the aisle waving a handgun. I got in front of him. He yelled “Boogety, Boogety, Shoo,” swiveled his hips, took a shot at me, and missed. I beat him over the head with my microphone, nearly killing him. I heard somebody yell “She’s alive!” Margo was sitting up and we called an ambulance. The State Police took “Chubby” away. He got 50 years in Rahway State Prison. His motive was pure vengeance, but I don’t know what for.
Margo and the Vans will be back next year. When I found out they lip synched, I was mad at first, but they are cheap. I think my dancing in the street dream will come true. The improved cranberry gala will put Malarky on the map and I will be a hero.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.
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