Tupelo was a shy man. But he felt the burning need to express what lay inside his bottle. To spill his golden notes across the room and fill every cup with his love. He anxiously awaited his turn at the microphone. After his wife left him, he had been needing to let loose with his art a bit. Just needed someone to listen. Listen without judging. Jenni called him to the front – he ambled across the room. Being a bottle it was difficult. But he made it.

"Buttery smooth honey floating tunes
 Through the skies bees zoom
 pollen! oh pollen!
 all abounds
 to tanks and bottles and bears
 and me
 to the big steel tanks in great ranks
 marching to mead
 mead to be
 a need to mead
 mead needs
 i mead to need to be
 a mead i be
 the tupelo

The crowd clapped politely. Tupelo exhaled. He felt better. It was time for the next act, and he had survived.

Join us for Open Mic tomorrow night – sign up at 5pm! We’ll be here with Jenni ’til 8pm! Will Tupelo Mead make his return? We shall see.