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August 10, 2005
Volume 5, Issue 10
The theme for the day is a musical instrument. You must include a musical instrument in your story in some way.
Michele: Heart Full of Soul
“You must be the violin, Jorge. Be the bow! Be the instrument!”
When Jorge missed a note, Gustav whacked him with the bow. He was used to a strike or two during lessons, but this time, Gustav didn’t stop. He kept at Jorge, striking him on his shoulders, back and head. Jorge crouched in defense and Gustav beat the bow across Jorge’s hands, yelling “Be the bow!” as he did. Jorge managed to grab the bow from Gustav and pounced on him, driving the bow through Gustav’s skin and straight into his heart.
“Be the bow, Gustav. Be the bow.”
Laurence - Mohowuku
You won't find Mohowuku on a map. It doesn't exist yet.
Well, it exists, but not as an independent country.
Yet.
The ink is still drying on their constitution. The thatching on the Parliament Hut is fresh and tight. The god-totems have been polished to a luscious shine. Even the flag has that new-flag smell to it.
Minor problem with the anthem, though.
Oh, it's breathtaking. Majestic strings, soaring flutes... to hear it is to know the angels' laughter.
Sadly, the Mohowuku only know how to play steel drums.
The composer was absolutely furious.
And, according to the Mohowuku, delicious.
Ted: Down to Sugar's Place
The horn section was wailing, one sax joined by trumpet, trombone, and finally, a clarinet. It was the clarinet that made the song really wail though. Huey had practically been born with it in his mouth and had started playing down in the Bottom by the time he was six. He used to play his first set behind a blind, backlit so only his huge shadow would show. When asked why he would always say it was because the cops never stayed for the second set. That white boy has a real gift for keeping out of trouble down here.
Andy: By the Gazebo
Man, she had pipes, huh?
Do you remember that Fourth of July, we were all at the park and the band played the national anthem, she just broke into it, every word, sang all the notes, even the hard ones? And when everyone else heard her, they just let their own voices drift down to nothing until it was just her and that brass band? And how we looked at her, got all embarrassed, kids you know, but inside we felt proud at the same time?
I want to remember Mom like that, not like now, this fucking long goodbye.