The Da-Da-De-Da-Da Code Read Online Free PDF

age of twenty-seven. Johnson died at twenty-seven. And after him we have Johnny Kidd, out of Johnny Kidd and the Pirates, Pig Pen out of the Grateful Dead. Brian Jones, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain – the list goes on. They all died aged twenty-seven. It is
not
a coincidence. You see, they all had one thing in common: they were all Robert Johnson fans. And each of them, in their twenty-seventh year, got to hear something that they shouldn’t have heard. They got to listen to Robert Johnson’s thirtieth record. And they heard the Devil’s laughter. And if you hear the Devil’s laughter—’
    ‘You die,’ said Jonny Hooker. ‘You die.’
    ‘That’s what you do,’ said Mr Giggles. ‘Horrible business, eh?’
    ‘Horrible,’ said Jonny. ‘But wait,’ said Jonny. ‘What about the recording?’ said Jonny. ‘Where is it now?’ said Jonny, also.
    ‘Where indeed? It wasn’t to be found amongst the personal effects of the late Mister Cobain, or so I am informed. I am also informed that a certain secret government agency set out to find it. This certain agency has apparently been searching for it for years.’
    Jonny Hooker shook his head. ‘I will just bet,’ he said, ‘that there is not a single word of truth to any of that. I really, truly hate you, so I do.’
    ‘No you don’t, you love me, really.’
    Jonny Hooker shook his head again and found that his glass was empty once more. Although unaccountably so, as he did not recall emptying it. Grumbling grimly, he returned once more to the bar counter.
    O’Fagin was affixing up a poster to the wall.
    ‘What’s that?’ asked Jonny, feigning interest.
    ‘Blues Night on Tuesday,’ said O’Fagin. ‘Local bands. You should come along – you play guitar, don’t you?’
    ‘I do,’ said Jonny. ‘Regularly, in here, on Heavy Metal Nights. But I don’t know of any decent blues bands round here.’
    ‘I never said they were decent,’ said O’Fagin. ‘I only said they were local.’
    ‘I never even knew you had Blues Nights here,’ said Jonny, offering his glass for a refill.
    ‘Haven’t for years,’ said O’Fagin, receiving Jonny’s glass. ‘My daddy started them back in the nineteen thirties, but there was a bit of bother, so he stopped them.’
    ‘Bit of bother?’ said Jonny. ‘Fights in the bar and suchlike?’
    ‘Something like that,’ said O’Fagin, crossing himself and drawing Jonny’s pint. Which was no mean feat, as he did both with a single hand. ‘But all the greats played The Middle Man. See that faded photo up there?’ And he did head-gesturings. ‘That’s my daddy here in the bar. And Robert Johnson with him.’

5
     
    ‘You left that beer undrunk,’ said Mr Giggles. ‘Right there on the bar counter, you left it.’
    ‘I paid for it,’ said Jonny, and he strode on up the road.
    ‘But why did you leave it? Why did you leave it?’ Mr Giggles danced at Jonny’s side.
    The sun shone down and birdies gossiped in the treetops. A lady in a straw hat, waiting at the bus stop, watched the young man striding by and talking to himself.
    ‘Sad,’ said she, to herself.
    ‘Just leave it, Mister Giggles,’ said Jonny. ‘Just leave it.’
    ‘But why did you leave your pint?’
    Jonny ceased his striding and glared at Mr Giggles. ‘You did it,’ he said. ‘I know you did it.’
    ‘Did what? What?’
    ‘Blues Night at The Middle Man! That photo behind the bar! I’ve drunk in that pub for years and I’ve never seen that photo before.’
    ‘So you’re implying that
I
somehow brought it into being?’
    ‘It’s what you do to mess me up. Why won’t you leave me alone?’
    ‘Because you need me, Jonny, that’s why. You need me, Jonny, you do.’
    ‘I
don’t
need you. I don’t
want
you. I just want my own mind. I want to think my own thoughts, make my own choices.’
    ‘You wouldn’t be able to manage on your own.’
    ‘Other people do!’
    ‘Other people are not like you. Let’s go