Funny Story about Music

A long time ago, during our college years, my brother and I went with one of our friends to hang out and play billards. The conversation came to music and the classic battle of who is better; Elvis or The Beatles. Dale was winning with at pool. I was hanging around, drinking my coke and losing. John had to step to check on the vehicle, cause it had been running hot earlier.

"I'm just saying the Beatles left a bigger impact on music than Elvis, "croaked Dale, "I am just saying."

"They called him the King of Rock and Roll, Dale, "I replied, "He didn't earn that title for nothing."

Dale gets the 4th ball in the pocket, "Yeah, CALLED him. He's dead, and the majority of the Beatles are still alive. What does that tell you?"

"That he sells more records?"

"You don't know that."

"You're right, I don't. I am just guessing." I say, gulping down the last of my coke.

"Do you even LIKE the Beatles?"

"Sure, I like the Beatles. There are a few songs I prefer. How about you?"

"Yeah, I like PaperBack Writer, Love Me Do, Come Together, Help and Last Train to Clarksville."

"Last Train to Clarksville?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"That's the Monkies, dude." I tell him.

Dale then misses his shot. He stares at me as if I just told him I wrecked his camaro. "What did you just say?"

"I said, that is the Monkies. Last Train to Clarksville is sung by the Monkies, not the Beatles."

Dale begins to approach me with a look on his face like he is about to punch me. "Bullshit." he whispers.

"I'm serious, man." I tell him.

"YOU MADE THAT UP!" He screams at me.

"Easy, Dale! If you don't believe me, go look at the Jukebox. It's on there. I heard it last week!"

Dales stares at me for a few seconds, and then throws his pool stick onto the pool table and walks over to the front of the building where the Jukebox is. At this point I can only assume Dale is through playing the game. Then John comes back from the entrance at the back of the building. He picks up his coke off the bar and takes a swig and then looks at me. "Who's winning?" he askes.

"Dale was, but I think he quit. How is the Oldsmobile?" I ask him.

"Seems okay now, but I am going to have it checked out tomorrow."

Before I could ask John anything further, we heard a blood curling scream from a female up front. As we turn to look, we see that it's not a girl that screamed but Dale. He's slowly backing away from the Jukebox in complete shock. The entire building is staring at him. He returns the gaze with a look that he had just been caught robbing a bank or something. He then turns around and bolts out the door, slamming it against the wall. John stares in disbelief. "What the hell is his problem?" John asks.

I sigh. "Dale just became a Monkies fan."