Mystery Writer (Paperback Writer, Paul McCartney)

Here's a little ditty from Gary Troup, author of Bad Twin, moments before 815 crashes into the ocean, to the tune of the Beatles' Paperback Writer.

Mystery Writer

Mystery writer (mystery writer, writer).
Well, Hanso confiscated my last book.
He didn’t want the public to take a look
‘Cause evil equations tend to foster fear.
What a mess that was!  So I’d rather be a mystery writer.
Mystery writer.

It’s the thrilling story of a clever man
And the time he spends with the Widmore clan.
A son is missing, so it’s up to Paul
To recover him.  Oh, it’s great to be a mystery writer.
Mystery writer.

Mystery writer (mystery writer, writer).

Sell a million copies.  Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
I’ll impress the critics and Cindy too.
Flying out of Sydney, I can see her smile.
Wrote this book for her, ‘cause I’m such a sappy mystery writer.
Mystery writer.

Well, I hope we make it to L.A. all right.
I was not expecting such a bumpy flight.
But at least I guess that if we crash right here,
Then my book will sell.  I will be a famous mystery writer.
Mystery writer.

Mystery writer (mystery writer, writer).
Mystery writer (mystery writer).
Mystery writer (mystery writer).
Mystery writer (mystery writer).
Mystery writer (mystery writer).

In the D. I. (Under the Sea, Alan Menken / Howard Ashman)

Ben Linus comes by his grousing honestly; his father Roger did a lot of complaining back in DHARMA days. Here's a song to the tune of Alan Menken and Howard Ashman's Under the Sea set during season three's The Man Behind the Curtain. Here, Horace, the hippie-ish DHARMA Initiative honcho (and one of my favorite minor characters) tries to convince a surly Roger to stick around.

In the D. I.

I get it. You’ve got the jitters
Because of today’s attack.
You’re lonely, depressed and bitter;
You’re thinking of going back.
Remember the day I met you?
Well, you were a mess back then.
Be glad I did not forget you.
I care about you and Ben.

In the D. I., in the D. I.
Though you may scoff here,
You’re better off here.
I’ll tell you why.
Even a Work Man has his place
Helping to heal the human race.
This job’s a gift, since
You’ll make a diff’rence
In the D. I.

The natives are acting funny,
But we’ll keep them all in line.
We’re not in this thing for money,
So don’t let me hear you whine.
You left nothing back in Portland
But unpleasant memories.
I’m here if you need support, man,
But spare me the snarling, please.

In the D. I., in the D. I.
Nice, cozy housing.
Beer for carousing.
Tasty fish fries.
All the Apollos you can eat.
Luaus Hawaii couldn’t beat!
Welcoming neighbors.
Purposeful labor
In the D. I.
In the D. I.
Quality schooling.
Ben is no fool;
In fact, he’s just shy.
I knew he’d find himself a pal;
Annie’s a kind and clever gal.
Don’t separate them.
Wonders await them
In the D. I.

The air is so rare
And clear over here.
It‘s green and pristine,
A thrilling frontier.
We smile on this isle,
And life’s free from strife;
It’s calm almost all the time, man.
We say “Namaste”
And croon DHARMA tunes.
We dance and romance
On warm afternoons.
There’s peace and release
And fun in the sun.
The climate is sublime!

In the D. I., in the D. I.
Here where we stack
Geronimo Jackson
Albums sky-high.
Why would you ever want to leave?
We have utopia up our sleeves.
Hanso’s a genius!
Minimize meanness
In the D. I.
Half-hidden hatches.
Debonair patches
In the D. I.
Stop getting hammered.
Many have clamored
For a position
In our great mission.
You should be thanking
Me for your ranking
In the D. I.