EQUITY

A man works for the equity. He lives two weeks in his van in the office parking lot pulling twelve-hour days, befriends a raccoon, and gets the lowball offer read back to him by said raccoon. Then he turns into a raccoon himself and the two of them escape into the Venice alleyways to live free.

Joyous hot-swing, banjo and upright bass four to the bar, dominant sevenths marching round the circle of fifths so it never sits down to mope. One ache, reserved for the chorus. Comedy on top and a knife underneath: dignity, and being worth more than forty cents.

The seed was a dead MacBook and a negotiation. The take that won was the marimba cut, picked by ear over a long night of variants. The second it landed, everyone I know got a copy.